“I’m sorry that I can’t offer you hospitality to match yours.”

No salt room for Cora, then.

I love the mention of Odwalt’s blue tattoos. I wonder if they are connected to the game notion of magically protective Nordic Woad. That’s how I always think of it when I see blue face paint or tattoos in the games.

There's a reason the saying goes "The Truth hurts."

Count me as another of those that likes Odwalt, but there's somebody else that interests me. A cloaked man of strange and significant power that seemed to study Cora before retreating into the shadows.

I smell some Heresy.

So, the terms are set, the treaty is signed, the officers have been told by their general that they'll be working with the new Lord of Cardonaccum, and it's now time to meet the prisoners.

Odwalt's keen-minded sense of self-preservation showing itself got a bit of a chuckle from me as I read this. A shame that he had to bring up Wallace's death as they're going to meet what's left of Laird's men.

@SubRosa: Thanks for the nod to Destri's negotiations! I toyed with the idea of having a sweet roll there, but decided that this meeting was not as portentous as the Sweetroll Negotiations were! Yes, the coffee had to fill that role (pun very much intended!). GIven that there is little love lost between Lady Cora and her father, yes, it makes sense that she would use her mother's clan name. I'm glad you liked the Xerox magic here! Maybe that makes up for the absence of the Sweet Roll?

@ghastley: Yes, Thistlethorn is an excellent reminder of the weight of the responsibility on Lady Cora's shoulders. I'm glad you picked up on that little line.

@Acadian: It's not really illogical that some of Nirn's energy comes up to Lady Cora through the body of a horse. After all, animals are born of Nirn (the land ones, anyway). However, in mythology, horses are creatures of the ocean in many cultures, so it would make sense that Lady Cora would avoid riding a horse in order to keep as much of Nirn's strength as she can for what she still has to face.

@Grits: I'm not sure if Odwalt's blue tattoos are connected to the Nordic Woad power. It would make sense, though, that they are related! In that case, Odwalt would not want to lose those tats!

@BamBam: I enjoyed writing Odwalt, too. We won't see much more of him, as he is one of General Talos's senior commanders and therefore goes where the Dragonborn goes.

@All: That unnamed, mysterious, cloaked figure is a direct tribute to Destri's Interregnum. Those of you who are familiar with this unfinished epic (Destri, are you reading this? *nudge*) will recall who the cloaked, mysterious figure that always remains in the shadows is.

The story so far: Lady Cora and General Talos have signed their treaty. Lady Cora met some of Talos's commanders. One of them, Odwalt, is assigned to escort Lady Cora to the remnants of Sir Laird's retinue and his surviving family.

**************************
Chapter Sixteen

“The family is in here,” Odwalt stepped between the two guards and pulled back the flap of the tent. The same size as the others, it was set next to a crude stockade.

I paused in the entrance to scan the interior. No groundcloth. I entered and found myself confronted by a young boy, his fists pummeling my body. I managed to catch his wrists and push him back from me slightly. “Easy, Konrad,” I said. “I came to see if you and your mother are all right.”

“No!” Laird’s youngest son twisted in my grip. The middle son, Tevan, grabbed the eight-year-old and yanked him backwards. He squared his shoulders and faced me, his chin lifted in defiance. At thirteen he already stood just a few hairs taller than me.

“What do you care, Witch?” he demanded. I heard Laird’s imperiousness in his tone. “After you kicked us out into the cold?”

“Tevan,” a quiet voice reached us from the rear of the tent. I looked back to see Konrad holding his mother back. “Mind your manners. She is still the Lady of Cardonaccum.”

Reluctantly Tevan stood aside as Edine moved forward. The light from the brazier in the center of the tent highlighted her gaunt visage as she lifted her hands over the glowing coals. “I’m sorry we have to meet like this, milady.”

“I’m sorry, too,” I answered. “Lord Wallace t- trusted Sir Laird deeply. I r- regret that your husband would not let me do so as well.”

We regarded each other for several long breaths. The boys’ anger and resentment was palpable within the confines of the tent. Finally I took a deep breath. “I have been worried about you and the boys ever s- since I found out Sir Laird had departed with you. H- have any of you been hurt in the fighting?”

“Only minor scrapes and bruises,” Edine answered slowly, her voice breaking. “I was unseated when my horse bolted, and the boys put up quite the fight.”

“I don’t doubt for a moment th- that they did,” I said softly. “I would expect no less of the s- sons of the fine warrior Sir Laird was.” Edine closed her eyes and swayed slightly. Tevan reached for her elbow, but she gently shook him off. “I came to speak to you, Edine.” I continued after a moment. “I don’t want you to think I’ve been ungrateful for your c- company these past years, nor for your advice and friendship. It is because of that friendship I am here.”

“Are we still friends?” Edine’s voice was softer. “My husband aspired for Lord Wallace’s seat against his wishes. He may not have betrayed you, but he certainly betrayed his lord. How can you forgive him that?”

“What Laird did has no reflection on you, or your sons,” I answered. “He made his own decisions, chose h- his own path. No one told him to pursue the course he did.” I sighed. “What I’m really here for - “ my voice trailed off as I ran out of the words I needed to express my own thoughts.

“You want Cirsium back?” Tevan snapped from beyond his mother’s shoulder. “You’ll have to fight the entire Legion for it. Why don’t you just go to that General Talos and spread your legs for him? Maybe he’ll -”

The slap cracked through the tent. Edine glared at her son, spots of color stark on her pale cheeks, her lips compressed into a tight line. “How dare you speak to Lady Cora like this!” Some of her old spirit returned as she matched stares with him. “I should turn you over to her for execution in your father’s stead!”

“She threw Father out like a used up whore!” Tevan shouted back, his left cheek showing the print of her hand.

“She did no such thing!” Edine shot back. “It was your father’s choice to leave! As Arkay is my witness, it is my husband who was in the wrong -“ Her voice caught and she covered her face with her hands, turning away from Tevan.

“Mother,” he pleaded, touching her shoulders. “Please don’t cry.”

“Edine,” I said softly, taking a step closer to her. Part of me ached to take her in my arms and share her grief at the loss of her husband. For all his flaws, I knew Edine had loved Sir Laird deeply. “Edine,” I tried again. “I know what you’re experiencing -“

“No, you don’t!” Edine spat at me. “Your husband was honorable and fair, everything mine was not! The man you loved didn’t betray his liege lord!” She dissolved into sobbing.

I closed my eyes and turned my face away. “But I know what it is like t- to lose the man you’ve loved for so many years,” I said quietly. Unable to bear the sight of her standing there so forlornly, I rounded the brazier and enfolded her in my arms. Tevan glared at me but did not interfere when Edine grasped desperately at me.

After several long moments, her arms fell away, and Edine stepped away from me. She wiped at her face. “Forgive me, milady” she sniffled. “I’m not as strong as you.” She caught the startled look in my face. “You were so brave when they brought Lord Wallace back. You didn’t fall all to pieces like Larena did. You confronted General Talos in the courtyard and stood up to him. You weren’t afraid of him -“

“But I was,” I shook my head. “Still am. What he’s capable of, it frightens the daylights out of me.” I took a deep breath. “It is for th- that reason I’m here.” I looked from her to her sons. “Now that Sir Laird is dead, you are without protection.” I looked down and took her hands. “With half your h- husband’s men gone, your life and that of your sons are in danger. But it doesn’t h- have to be that way.”

“What do you mean?” Edine stared at me.

“I made truce with General Talos,” I said simply. “It was his c- condition for letting me speak to you and to your husband’s surviving men. Just because you are Sir Laird’s wife does not mean you are of the same mind as he was c- concerning my taking Lord Wallace’s seat.”

Edine backed away from me and moved to sit on the cot beside Konrad, who watched me with wide eyes. Tevan held his ground and faced me squarely. He drew breath, apparently for another tirade. But Edine stopped him with a simple “Tevan.”

“General Talos is making preparations for withdrawal,” I continued. “He will not s- stay here any longer than he must. That means Sir Laird’s manor will be accessible once again. Would you c- consider returning there and running it on behalf of Cardonaccum, as Sir Laird did for so many years?”

Tevan’s eyes widened as he glanced from me to his mother. Her face was as incredulous as his. “And my sons?” It was just a whisper from her lips.

“If they will swear fealty to me as th- the rightful Lord of Cardonaccum,” I said, “they can take their place in the vanguard when they are old enough. Furthermore, if Tevan should prove himself r- reliable, he can stand to inherit Little Oak when he comes of age.” I shook my head. “No sense punishing children for the s- sins of their fathers.”

Edine regarded me for several long breaths. Then she looked down at Konrad next to her. I took a step back. “I’ll need to speak to Sir Laird’s s- surviving men,” I said. “I’ll give you a little time to discuss it between yourselves.” This time I met Tevan’s gaze. “Like Lord Wallace, I don’t forgive betrayal, so once you make your decision, there’s no going back on it without c- consequence.” Without waiting for an acknowledgement, I spun on my heel and left the tent.

Odwalt turned from the nearby forge when I stepped out into the weak sunlight. He set the whetstone down and sheathed his sword with a question in his eyes. I met his gaze. “I’d like to speak to Laird’s men, please.”

“This way, Lady,” the tall Nord gestured for me to follow him. We wove our way through the tents toward the stockade gate. Four legionaries waited outside it, along with their watch commander. The younger man turned as Odwalt approached. “The men have been briefed, sir. They’re ready.”

I frowned at his words. Ready for what? Apparently Odwalt anticipated my suspicion for he turned to me.

“Sir Laird’s men may not react very well to the news of the truce,” he said. “I have your safety to think of in there.”

“I don’t need an escort -“ I protested, but Odwalt shook his head curtly.

“It’s a precaution, that’s all. If the men behave themselves, nothing will go wrong.”

“Those are famous last words, sir,” I warned him. He bowed, then nodded to the commander.

The gates swung open, and the four legionaries ran into the stockade. They made no sound other than the clattering of their plate armor, but still the prisoners within scrambled to get out of their way. I followed Odwalt and his commander into the muddy enclosure and moved past them to stand in the center of the rough prison. Two walls supported lean-to roofs, with rushes piled upon the mud. Several of the men lay beneath the shelters, bandages and blood stains and bent limbs indicating injuries. Another ten stood between the legionaries and their wounded comrades, watching them warily. One of them stepped forward and faced me. I recognized him as Cedric, one of Laird’s most trusted lieutenants.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Come to gloat over Sir Laird’s failure?”

“Gloating over death of good men is th- the last thing I want to do,” I answered. “I know you followed Sir Laird out of Cardonaccum, after I warned him of the consequences of such an action. Unless you chose to follow the s- same path he did, I fail to see why you should pay for his choices as well. Do you believe he did the right thing?”

Cedric, his face worn and haggard from a night in the cold, regarded me defiantly. Muttering passed between the men behind him. “He followed no Witch, and neither will we!”

A few of the others cheered his words, though their voices lacked heart. The rest merely muttered some more. I met Cedric’s gaze again. “Do you speak for everyone here? Or only for yourself?”

He drew himself up and opened his mouth to speak, but shouting and grumblings from several of the prisoners stopped his retort. Instead, he clenched his jaw and stared at me with hatred in his eyes. I stepped away from him and cast my gaze around the enclosure again, looking each man in the eye. Most of them looked away from me, but a few more gave me the same defiant glare as Cedric. “You,” I pointed at the nearest of them. “Do you feel the same way as Cedric?”

“”Blivion yes!” the man snarled. “No Witch should rule Cardonaccum!”

“Then go make your stand with Cedric,” I said quietly. “Any one else care to join th- them?”

Three others slogged through the thick mud to join Cedric and his supporter. I turned to glance back at Odwalt. He gave me the most imperceptible nod. Good. He’s taken note of these five. I turned back to the remaining men. “Any more?”

“We have no leader, milady,” a pained voice reached me from the far side of the stockade. “Why does it matter what we think?”

I gathered my skirts and made my way through the cold muck toward the voice. Beneath the lean-to at the opposite wall, a man fought off the restraining hands of two of his comrades as he tried to sit up. Dark stains bloomed across the bandage covering his abdomen. Fresh blood gleamed against the dried marks. I knelt down beside him and laid my hand on the edge of the dressing. I met his gaze. “May I?”

“You’ve no magicka, what can you do milady?” he grumbled, but nodded his permission. I lifted the edge of the bandage carefully and studied the deep gash beneath. Through the muscle. He should stay prone. Else it will fester.

“What is your name, soldier?” I laid the bandage carefully back into place and looked into his face. Like Cedric, he was worn and haggard, and very pale. I touched his skin. Cold and clammy.

“Tomsen, milady,” he answered. “I served Sir Laird for more’n twenty years.”

“Tomsen, would you serve me?” I asked him. “Would you come and s- support me as Lord of Cardonaccum? Or do you share Cedric’s opinions about me?”

“How can I serve anyone?” Tomsen answered bitterly. “I’m no good anymore, milady.”

“Once you’ve healed,” I replied, “even if you can’t fight anymore, you c- can still train the young ones. And if Edine accepts my offer, she’ll h- have need of good men to protect Little Oak.”

“You’ll accept me, even though I followed Sir Laird?” Disbelief warred with hope in Tomsen’s face.

“Did you follow him because you chose the s- same path he did?” I countered. “Or did you follow him because you were sworn to his s- service? There’s a difference there, as far as I’m concerned.” I pointed at the five sullen men standing in the center of the compound. “They chose Sir Laird’s path. There’s consequences for that. Likewise, those of you,” I looked around at the gathered men, “who followed Sir Laird yesterday because of your oaths, you have a choice today. Choose to join Cedric and his friends th- there because you won’t swear fealty to a Witch, or choose to follow me and come back home.”

“D’ye mean it, milady?” one of the other wounded men laying three bedrolls away leaned onto his elbow to see me better. I looked up to meet his gaze.

“Even if Edine declines, I s- still have need of men who know Little Oak and who can hold it for me.” I looked back at Tomsen. “As I see it, better you than s- some legionaries I don’t know or trust.”

“What?” Tomsen exclaimed. “Legionaries in Little Oak?”

“I made truce with General T- Talos.” I said. “It was the only way I could get to see you. Part of that truce is that a c- century of his Legion stay here and augment my fighting force. And the only way that works is if all of C- Cardonaccum supports the truce.” I sighed. “If you don’t come back with me, I will have no choice but to t- turn Little Oak over to them.”

“And if we come back with you, and swear fealty to you, what of them?”

I shrugged. “Then they’ll have to quarter at th- the donjon with Robert’s men.” I smiled ironically. “To be honest, I’d rather have th- them where Robert and I can keep an eye on them.”

“If Sir Laird’s wife comes back, shall we serve her?”

“You’d be responsible for her safety and welfare, as well as t- training her sons to take their place in the vanguard when they’re old enough.”

Tomsen laid his head back on the bedroll, his eyes on the rough rafters above us. The other man a few beds away looked down at the rushes. The other men murmured among themselves. Tomsen’s sigh drew my gaze back to him. “I’ll not speak for the others, but I’ll come with you, milady. I’ll follow you to the ends of Nirn and carry out your orders without question. So help me Arkay.”

Several of the wounded echoed his oath, as did the remaining whole men standing by us. I reached down to Tomsen’s right hand and gripped it firmly. “As Lord of Cardonaccum, I will stand behind you and s- see to it you have what you need. So help me Arkay.” I looked around at the gathered men. “Are you with Tomsen?”

“Aye!” they chorused. They slammed their fists to their chests and bowed their heads to me. “Lady Cora!”

“Then remain here. I need to go make th- the necessary arrangements.” I moved to rise, and one of Tomsen’s comrades reached a callused hand down to me. I accepted his offer and gained my feet with his assistance. “Have patience. I will get you out of th- this miserable place as quickly as I can.”

“Yes, milady,” several of the men bowed to me as I made my way back to the stockade gate. My stride faltered when I looked up to see Talos standing beside Odwalt.

Lady Cora acquitted herself wonderfully during both of these tricky encounters.

Segment one (womenz and childrenz tent). I was relieved to see Edine’s mindset. If Edine returns to Little Oak, Cora will need to keep a close eye on those two boys to see whether their father’s bitterness festers or dissipates with time and guidance from their mother. Although Edine sounds up to the task of schooling her boys, the real influence will need to be provided by the example of better men and knights than Sir Laird. And Cora has some in her service. Hopefully she can recruit a few more from Laird’s imprisoned warriors during her next stop.

*pauses for a cup of coffee with spiced pumpkin pie flavored cream *

Segment two (makeshift prison compound). The fact that Cora was able to find the right words to coax many of Laird’s men to her flag was real testimony to how much there is to her, and how well she has grown into her role. So, Talos was watching. . . . I expect he cannot help but be impressed by the gentle and wise leadership displayed by Lady Cora during this exchange with Laird’s men.

I must confess to a bit of confusion, based on the way you describe the boys. You state that Tevan is "The middle son" but later you're suggesting he might inherit Little Oak. I don't recall if the elder lad fell with his father or not, but if he had, would Cora still regard Tevan as the "middle" one?

It would appear that Laird had been poisoning the relationship between his people and Wallace's for some time. I'm curious to find out what happens to those Cora doesn't take back with her.

I expected about his much from the two sons. Looks like both are cut from the same cloth as the father. Edine however seems hopeful. She at least understands that is was her husband who precipitated matters, not Cora. There is a funny symmetry here. Just as Lady Cora has been forced to make an alliance with her former husband's enemy, so too is Edine. I am sure she will take Cora's offer. What other choice does she really have? In the long run however, it looks like the two boys will be a problem.

Cedric is it? I wonder if he is an entertainer? Looks like not!

Tomsen sounds familiar. One of the characters in Das Boot was Captain Thomsen, and his name was pronounced with the 'h' silent. He looks like a good prospect, if he lives.

Lady Cora handled Sir Laird's men well. I especially liked how she used the legionaries quartering at Little Oak as a point to help persuade them to come over to her side. Being defeated is bad enough, but knowing that the enemy who beat you will be living in your old house is just rubbing salt in the wound. Unless of course they are going somewhere else...




nits:
“What I’m really here for - “
Looks like your closing quotation mark is an innie rather than an outie. That is why I use straight quotes all the time. They are the same coming or going.

“Did you follow him because you chose the s- same path he did?” I countered. “Or did you follow him because you were sworn to his s- service? There’s a difference there, as far as I’m concerned.”

I liked this distinction very much. Allies who keep their word above their judgment might be more reliable than ones whose opinions might change.

And Talos is watching. Good, I hope he is impressed.

So, Edine knows the type of man that she married and widowed her. That shows promise and hope for her surviving boys.

I find myself sympathizing with Tevan, but that's mostly on account of recent experience, and yet I still found his words insufferable. Much as I don't think physical discipline is a useful tool, the lad needed that smack upside the head, and probably another.

The divisions of Laird's men-at-arms was a nice touch, and Cora's question about whether they followed out of duty or out of agreement struck me as typical of her: find the truth of the matter and the solution presents itself. It looks as though she'll have the majority of the men she needs.

Glad to know I was right about Mr. Shadowy.

And, oh, great, he's here. (See, see, I made it an entire post without saying it.)

@Acadian: One of the things I wanted to do with Laird's family was show them as individuals with their own personalities, their own prejudices, their own priorities. I kept seeing Edine as this strong woman who has long served in a submissive role as wife to a domineering Lord. Now that she is a widow, this is her chance to show the stuff she is really made of. On the one hand Laird was a good leader and a good fighter, on the other his notions and ideas of the roles of women and children (and Witches) are reflective of the culture he grew up in, a culture that is undergoing tremendous changes at this point in time. Compared to the other races, I think Bretons would have the richest, most complex culture and traditions due to the mixture of Aldmeri, Nord and even Dwemer customs with a little bit of Yokuda thrown in to leaven the combination. As the Aldmeri Dominion fades into history and the Bretons hold back Hammerfell and Skyrim from their borders, I see them drawing upon the best of all of these races and weaving them into a tapestry that is an amazing construction of their own.

@ghastley: If you go back to Chapter 14, you'll see that General Talos informed Lady Cora of the eldest son's death at his father's side. As I saw that family, it was the most logical outcome - the eldest son would not let his father bear the brunt of the attack by himself, especially as said son is old enough to fight (and probably eager to do so - I think I had him as fourteen in my cast of characters). As the eldest surviving son, Tevan now stands to inherit Little Oak when he comes of age. I hope that clears things up for you?

@SubRosa: Tevan may have to unlearn some things, but I think Edine is just the perfect person to accomplish that task. As she loved her husband, she was fully aware of his faults and will be extra motivated to ensure Tevan doesn't meet the same fate. Eventually the Little Oak men who choose to return with Lady Cora will return to Little Oak with Edine. At the moment, however, they will return to Cardonaccum to heal first.

@Grits: You are right about Lady Cora's logic behind her question to the men - she realizes that loyalty to an ideal may be stronger than loyalty to a mere mortal. Keeping one's word, no matter how unfortunate it may be, makes such a person more trustworthy as you know what to expect from that person. Yes, General Talos is watching, indeed!

@BamBam: Wow, two posts without the rabid fanboyism that usually accompanies General Talos? That's impressive self-control! Yes, I was sympathizing with Tevan too, but agree that Edine is the perfect person to give him that Gibbs slap!

The story so far: Lady Cora spoke to Edine and provided her with options she did not know she had. Then Lady Cora met with Laird's surviving men and given them an ultimatum of sorts. She has one more task to perform before returning to Cardonaccum. We get to see a little bit more of Odwalt in this chapter . . .

******************************
Chapter Seventeen

To avoid the General’s gaze, I paused and inspected the enclosure one last time. I’m missing someone. Onchu. Where is he?

Odwalt stepped forward, his boots squelching in the mud. “Is there a problem, Lady?”

“I haven’t s- seen Onchu,” I studied the men again.

“The priest?” Talos apparently knew the name. He turned to look at the big Nord.

“There was no priest among the prisoners,” Odwalt shook his head. “At least, no priestly robes anyway.”

“He’s not here,” I turned back to Odwalt. “What happened to the men th- that died yesterday in the fighting?”

“They’re in the rear,” Odwalt answered. “We found a small farm and used its courtyard for them.”

I hid my grimace. “Please take me there. I need t- to find Onchu.”

“It’s no place for a -“ Odwalt began, but Talos shifted restlessly.

“Take her there. Let her see the bodies.” He turned and stalked out of the stockade.

“Yes, sir,” Odwalt spoke to his departing back. He turned back to me. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I’m not hungry,” I answered automatically, then stopped myself. Of course. This is best done on an empty stomach. “I’ll be fine,” I assured him.

A short time later I doubted my own assurance. In spite of the cold weather, the stench that hung heavy over the small steading caused my stomach to heave. I lifted my cloak over my nose and fought to keep the bile down. Odwalt waited until I recovered to some degree, then nodded to the burial detail.

“We’ve only begun separating our dead from those belonging to Laird,” he turned to me. “I suppose you’ll want to recover the knight’s body?”

“If only for h- his family’s sake. His oldest s- son, too.” I managed to speak without gagging.

He led me to a corner of the courtyard, where a few bodies lay stretched out. “These were the most finely dressed,” he said.

I dug my toes into the mud of the farm’s courtyard and made myself look closely at their faces. The tallest one was so badly battered I could only recognize him by the flaxen mane he boasted. “Yes, this one is Sir Laird,” I said. “He was carrying a shield with a red th- thistle on it -?” My gaze moved back to Odwalt.

He nodded toward the main house. “We put their arms in there,” he said. “I recognized that one as the one Lord Wallace carried into battle.” His eyes moved back to me. “We just identified it last night. I haven’t had the chance to ask the General about it.”

I turned back to the bodies. Next to Laird lay a younger form with the same flaxen hair, this one braided in the Nord style. “And this one is C- Connor, his son.”

“Very well, Lady,” Odwalt waved one of the burial detail over. The man had the air of some authority, and I surmised that he must be in command of this grisly task. “Brynhyfr, see to it that these two are set apart from the others,” Odwalt ordered, indicating Laird and Connor. “We may need to return them to Cardonaccum.”

“Yes, sir,” Brynhyfr nodded with the briefest of glances at me. As he set men to the task, I studied the remaining two bodies. They were of Laird’s senior command, one the captain of his manor thistlemen and the other the commander of his fighting force. Still no Onchu. I moved to the other bodies.

“It’s still messy, Lady,” Brynhyfr stepped after me. I turned back to look at him over my shoulder.

“I need to see all th- the bodies,” I answered. “Laird’s and Legion both.”

Odwalt moved to Brynhyfr’s side. “Are you looking for anyone in particular?”

“Onchu, th- the priest of Arkay who rode out with Sir Laird,” I answered. Odwalt glanced at Brynhyfr.

“There’s no one in priestly robes here,” Brynhyfr’s blue eyes on me were wary.

I turned to face the men. “And you’ve never heard of a quarry escaping detection by t- taking on the accoutrements of the enemy?”

“Sir,” this came from one of the detail carrying Connor’s body. He had paused at my words. “We did find priestly robes on the field, but no priest. And the knight’s baggage was broken into. We have no idea what may be missing.”

“Good man, Jony,” Brynhyfr nodded at the man. “Carry on, then.” The gaze he turned back to me held new respect. “Very well, Lady, we’ll check them all.” He gestured to the far side of the courtyard, where neat rows of bodies lay. “Let’s begin there and get out of the way of these men.”

“Thank you, sir,” I gathered my skirts and squelched through the mud after him.

Bracketed by the two big Nords, I worked through the bodies, examining each face and form. Few had the priest’s pudgy body, and none had his face. After a final look around, I shook my head, bemused. Where is that damned priest? Did he run off during the heat of the battle? If he did, it wouldn’t surprise me. He never had the courage to face up to any one he considered stronger or superior to himself.

I looked up at Odwalt, who watched me patiently. I shook my head. He turned to Brynhyfr. “Let’s go through the remaining bodies,” he said. “I’m sorry to get in the way of your men, but obviously it’s important to the Lady to locate this priest.”

“I don’t want to s- slow your detail down,” I turned to Brynhyfr. “The man I am looking for, if he dropped about t- two stone in the heat of battle, would pass for a soldier. Otherwise, there are not many bodies like h- his here.”

Brynhyfr’s brows rose. “Likes the good life, eh?” He turned back to the burial detail still working on the stacked bodies and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Men!” His breath drifted in the late autumn chill as his charges paused in their work and looked in his direction. “If you find any fat pigs in there, bring them to the Lady!” A wave of chuckles drifted across the courtyard as the men nodded their acknowledgements and returned to work. Brynhyfr turned back to me. “Sorry for speaking of your dead friend like that, Lady.”

“He’s not my friend,” I answered. “And I’m beginning to doubt h- he’s dead. I think he just didn’t s- stay around long enough to impale himself on a Legion blade.”

“Well, now that you’ve narrowed the search down for us,” Brynhyfr glanced at Odwalt, “why don’t you wait outside? There’s a grain shed where you can be out of the wind. We’ll bring any fat ones we find to you.”

“How much longer, do you think?” Odwalt asked his subordinate.

Brynhyfr shrugged. “About another hour or so, the way these men are working.”

Odwalt squinted at the sun, then turned and spoke to one of his aides. The man acknowledged his command and left the courtyard. Odwalt turned to meet my gaze. “Shall we take Brynhyfr’s advice, Lady?”

It had been a long morning. I sighed and nodded. Odwalt led me out of the farmstead. As Brynhyfr had said, there was a small three-sided shed set off to one side of the nearby grain field, its cribs full of grain from the recent harvest. Within its shelter, Odwalt brushed the chaff from the upper surface of a roughly-sawn stump used for chopping wood. He motioned for me to use it as a stool.

To my surprise, Odwalt did not waste time seeking a seat for himself, but crouched down among the scattered stalks that covered the ground within the shed. He didn’t speak, and I had too much to think about, so silence joined our small company.

Before long, his aide returned bearing a laden basket. He set it down between Odwalt and me and murmured something to the commander. Odwalt nodded and reached for the container. Beneath its rough-spun flax cover, he retrieved a wheel of flatbread and handed it to me. “Eat something,” he said. “I doubt you had anything since you left Cardonaccum, Lady. Besides, I’m hungry.”

My stomach confirmed his guess, and I accepted the flatbread with some hesitation. Odwalt reached back into the basket and pulled out a wedge of white cheese. After wiping his dagger on the napkin, he cut off a piece of it and passed it to me. I watched as he assembled a sandwich of sorts by rolling his own flatbread around another slice of the cheese. As he bit into his meal, I looked down at the ingredients in my hands. After a moment, I mimicked his technique and began eating.

Odwalt finished his sandwich first and licked his fingers. While I brushed the crumbs from my lap, he fished out an apple and held it to me. I regarded the red and green globe, then accepted it. He bit into his with gusto, and silence fled the crunching of the apples as I joined him in the enjoyment of the fall harvest.

“T’was a barefoot Witch in the village where I grew up,” Odwalt regarded the thin core in his hand. I looked up from my apple, only half-eaten so far. Avoiding my gaze, he tossed his core out the shed. “Never could understand how she could bear the snow and cold without something on her feet.”

I hid my smile at his comment, obviously aimed at me. Don’t tell him why. “Never reveal your vulnerabilities to the enemy.” Wallace’s words echoed in my mind. But if Odwalt is familiar with barefoot Witches, he must know why. “Did you ever ask her why s- she went barefoot even in the winter?”

Odwalt didn’t meet my gaze. Instead, he found a pitcher inside the basket and busied himself with filling the two cups with it. Milk, I noted as he handed one to me. He drank his down in a single draught and turned his face back outside. “Nope. Too scared of her.”

“Why?”

“Huh,” Odwalt shrugged. “She’d look at you funny, and next thing you know, you’re pissing blood and broken glass, or crapping rocks the size of these apples.” He shot me a glance as I spluttered into my milk.

“And you’re not afraid I’d do the s- same to you?”

Odwalt drew out another apple and bit into it. “I was a tyke then,” he answered. “I left home when I was twelve, never saw her again.” He turned back to the view beyond the shed. “‘Sides, you don’t seem as mean-spirited as she was, Lady.”

I finished my apple thoughtfully. Because of my stammer? Or because I’m easily the smallest person in this entire camp except for Konrad? But he hasn’t exactly been disrespectful of me, just cool. Or is it because of General Talos’s orders?

“Sir?” Brynhyfr’s voice stopped my thoughts. He stepped within the shade of the shed. “We only found two bodies that could be considered fat,” he said, saluting Odwalt. “I’ve placed them near the entrance so the Lady doesn’t have to go back inside.”

I leaned down and set my empty cup back inside the basket. “Thank you for your kindness, s- sir,” I stood and shook out my skirts. Odwalt rose to his feet smoothly despite his large-boned build and met my gaze. “I’ll go take a look at them now. I s- still need to return to Edine for her decision.”

Brynhyfr was as good as his word. I did not have to enter that foul courtyard to examine the two corpses. “No, neither of them is Onchu,” I sighed. So he is on the loose somewhere. Will he survive? Or will he be killed by something due to his lack of wilderness experience? If he survives, will he come back to cause me more grief?

“Very well,” Odwalt nodded at Brynhyfr. “You may finish up here.” He peered through the open gate. “Good work, men!”

“Sir!” They answered with a clatter of salutes and barely a hitch in their activity.

What's there to say that hasn't already been said? I'll just raise a few thoughts that occurred to me while reading.


Talos' men don't want her within striking distance of their leader while carrying a big sword. I like bits of common sense like that. Too often have I read stories where the swords and spiky armours and belts of human skulls (all covered in blood) are apparently invisible to everyone until its fight-time. Of course they let her keep hers in the end but the distrust is still there.


Talos and Cora dispense with most of the political nonsense during negotiations. None of that 'I know that he knows that I know, but let's pretend I don't' stuff. Of course, it helps that the framework of the truce had already been established in their previous meetings.


Laird's sons follow their late father in opinions. That makes sense to me. Laird has had a literal lifetime to spoonfeef them his version of events on everything and he seems like the man who would punish any (even verbal) disagreement from his wife. Combine that with them being sons of Cardonaccum's elite, and I doubt there would have been many who daredsay to their face that valorous Sir Laird might be wrong about something. And those that did, well obviously they are simple-minded fools under the barefoot witch's spell so ignore them.


Cora says that the sins of the father should not reflect on his children. Given her backstory, it is something she said as much for herself as for Laird's offspring.


She basically repeats this argument to his troops later on, but with more appropiate words for that target group.



Ironically, the guy i'd pegged as the least threat once he got out of the castle is still at large while the greater threat and his heir are dead.

A gruesome task indeed. I almost smiled at the potential image of pudgy and bloody Pillsbury dead inside a Legion uniform. . . but alas, the wormy doughboy has escaped it seems. His robes on the field of battle provided the perfect blend of both clarity and mystery surrounding his disappearance.

And it seems we've located the stolen shield of Cardonaccum as well!

‘I hid my smile at his comment, obviously aimed at me. Don’t tell him why. “Never reveal your vulnerabilities to the enemy.” Wallace’s words echoed in my mind. But if Odwalt is familiar with barefoot Witches, he must know why. “Did you ever ask her why s- she went barefoot even in the winter?” - - What a wonderful touch of ‘Wallace’ here, as well as a sharp reminder of how Cora has grown into her role – which now includes requisite precautions for self-preservation and constant care in choosing her words.


Nits? Both of these are dialogue, so if they are written as you intended the characters to speak, please ignore my comments -

“There were no priest among the prisoners,” - - Odwald oddly chose to mix plural and singular (‘were no priest’), but since most of his dialogue is grammatically okay, I wonder if you meant for him instead say ‘was no priest’ or perhaps ‘were no priests’.

“We’ve only begun separating our dead from those of the knight’s,” he turned to me. “I suppose you’ll want to recover the knight’s body?” - - Since ‘those of the knight’s’ applies possession twice, would not ‘knight’ or ‘Sir Laird’ be correct? The advantage here might go to ‘Sir Laird’ to add both clarity and avoid using ‘knight’ twice in close proximity.

We did find priestly robes on the field, but no priest.
Uh oh, looks like Onchu slipped away like an eel. I expect we will see him return to cause trouble, once Talos and the Legion are gone.

“If you find any fat pigs in there, bring them to the Lady!”
This had me laughing! Imperial Hoggers!

“Never reveal your vulnerabilities to the enemy.”
Good advice. This way she retains an air of mystery.

Well that was a fun tromp through the corpses with Odwalt and Brynhyfr. It was a disgusting task, but at least the company was good. General Talos' army seems distinctly Nordic now what the Battle of Sancre Tor is over. Dragon of the North and all that. Which leads me to believe that the guy in the cloak was actually Ysmir, not Zurin.

So the sack of suede slipped out and saved his skin, eh? We knew there had to be something going wrong with this trip.

The details about uneasy stomachs and dealing with the dead was a nice touch. Never pleasant, that, unless you've got enough torches burning about to deal with the worst of it.

As for the control of my rabid-fanboyism, I should point out that all you've really done is inoculate me from being consumed by wild fantasies of what we'll get to see from Talos in this story. Mr. Shadow's appearance and your confirmation of his identity means that the Talos you're righting is a political, military, and societal genius. An awesome guy, to be sure, but not one that will be shown shouting down the gates or clearing stormy skies on his own, and most definitively not 'Fus Ro Dah'-ing some hapless assassin off a cliff as a practical demonstration of his more powerful, inner self.

Talos Stormcrown is a man.

Ysmir Strundu'ul, Dovahsebrom is something else entirely.

“Sir,” this came from one of the detail carrying Connor’s body. He had paused at my words. “We did find priestly robes on the field, but no priest. And the knight’s baggage was broken into. We have no idea what may be missing.”

So Onchu slipped away. Neat that Cora had already anticipated he might be disguised in Legion gear.

The meal and conversation shared with Odwalt was my favorite part. I like the way he didn’t ask what he was asking.

@Cloudy: Glad to see that you are still reading. It's good to hear your input on things. Not to give too much away, but of the three baddies (Laird, Broc and Onchu), Laird is the least of them.

@Acadian: Thank you very much for the nits - they have been corrected according to your sure guidance. I really loved the interaction between Cora and Odwalt here - he is wary of her and of the "hold" she seems to have over Talos, especially given her reputation as a Witch, yet he is somewhat familiar with Witches and she doesn't quite fit the mold. I would say he doesn't yet know what to make of her, and is correspondingly careful in his interactions with her.

@SubRosa: I've always been somewhat confused by what is Nord and what is Colovian - Cuhlecain is described as a Colovian king, but Falkreath, his small kingdom, is described as a city in southwestern Cyrodiil. I've come to the conclusion that the difference between Colovians and Nords are a matter of degree, and that the borders of Skyrim fluctuated greatly over the eons. You may be right about the cloaked figure from earlier!

@BamBam: I wouldn't be so quick to write off General Talos as a man - after all, he has the Dragonblood in him!

@Grits: Yes, I loved writing that scene between Lady Cora and Odwalt - I can almost see the struggle between the courteous gentleman and the rough Northern warrior here. Who wins? Ultimately I have to hand it to him to find the delicate balance between the two sides of his nature. I've always pictured him as being raised in the true Nord ways, and taught by a very tough mother to respect women, not treat them as chattel. Perhaps his father died when he was young and left his mother alone to deal with a large passel of kids?

The story so far: Lady Cora has spoken with both Edine, Sir Laird's wife, and his men. Her search for Onchu has proven fruitless. Now she must head to Cardonaccum and announce the treaty to the folk awaiting her return.

************************
Chapter Eighteen

Edine insisted on riding in the first cart with some of the wounded men, including Tomsen. “They are my responsibility as much as they are yours, milady,” she said to me as she clambered stiffly into the wagon. Konrad paused a moment, then climbed in after her, scrunching down in one corner.

Tevan moved to take the ox’s lead from the battered soldier. He glanced at me, then looked away, rubbing the animal’s neck.

The wounded had been placed in two ox carts, the bullocks found at a nearby farm whose family had fled the oncoming Legion. I made a note to keep these animals safe until the owners returned. They were strong, solid beasts, valuable to the farmers in this rocky country. Around them, the soldiers who had sworn fealty to me waited, their hands empty.

General Talos had refused to return their arms to these men just yet, instead putting the weapons into the charge of Lieutenant Alorius’s men. “Once we have vacated the area,” he had advised me, “Alorius will return the blades to your men. I trust you will emphasize that there will be no attacks on my men by yours.”

“Then give me time to s- speak to my folk,” I had said. General Talos had agreed, and now Lieutenant Alorius’s century waited just out of sight around a bend in the road, about five miles away.

Titus brought a chestnut mare up. The horse flicked her ears at me, then tossed her head. “You may ride this horse, Lady,” he offered the reins to me. “She is my distance mount - she is calm and has a comfortable pace.”

I rubbed my right hand down the mare’s long nose, neatly bisected by a long, narrow stripe from a oval star between her wide-set eyes. “I truly appreciate the k- kindness, sir,” I replied. “But I’d prefer to walk.”

“That shield is heavy to carry for long, Lady,” Titus indicated Cirsium, now leaning against my left hip. “And you’d be walking uphill.” He showed me the hook on the saddle cantle that accepted the handstrap of a shield. “She can carry it for you.”

“Not only that,” General Talos appeared at my side, “If your men see you riding a Legion horse, they’ll be less likely to shoot at my Lieutenant. I like him very much and would like him back in one piece, eventually.” He picked Cirsium up and attached it to the saddle.

I had to admit Talos was right. Still I eyed the mare, reluctant to sit her. Talos regarded me for a moment more, then leaned down to me. “Are you afraid of horses, Lady?”

“No,” I shook my head. How to explain?

“I’m certain you’ll be fine for the short time you’ll be sitting on her back, Lady,” he whispered. “She’ll carry you safely back to your donjon before you have a chance to fall ill.” He stepped back and met my gaze neutrally.

He knows entirely too much about me. Again I stroked the mare’s nose. “What is her name?” I asked Titus.

“Rosehill,” he answered. “Born and bred in the Colovian highlands, so she’s sure-footed on this rocky terrain.”

Talos knew I would accept the offer of the mare before I even drew breath to answer. He picked me up by my waist and swung me lightly onto Rosehill’s back. I bit back a yelp as his strong hands helped me find my balance in the saddle. Rosehill lowered her head at a touch from Titus, allowing Talos to guide my right leg over the pommel to the opposite side. He reached for the near stirrup, but I pressed my heel against Rosehill’s round side. Obediently the mare stepped sideways from Talos, pivoting around Titus.

“No stirrups, please, General,” I said, reaching down until my left hand found the stirrup leather. I jerked it up and draped it across Rosehill’s neck in front of the saddle. Talos and Titus watched in some amazement as I did the same with the other side. “I’m much more c- comfortable without them,” I added, shifting my seat and adjusting my skirts around my knees. “I usually just ride bareback.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so!” Talos half-exclaimed with a smile. His face transformed and became much less forbidding than his usual neutral expression. “Alorius would have left the saddle in the baggage train!”

“Then how could I carry the shield, General?” I countered. “It would just pull me r- right off the horse!”

Talos chuckled suddenly. “Point taken, Lady.” As suddenly as the sun disappearing behind a passing cloud, his face grew stern again. “Take this,” he handed me a rolled cloth. I looked at it. Red and black. Legion colors? His hazel eyes met mine when I looked up. “It’s one of our small standards. When things concerning the truce are settled with your folk, have this flown from your eastern gate tower. This will be the signal for Alorius’s men to approach Cardonaccum peacefully. We will also start our withdrawal at the same time.” His face grew dark. “But if you run into trouble, fly it from the western tower, and we’ll come armed.”

“It will be flown from the eastern tower,” I promised. “Th- thank you, General.”

He adjusted Thistlethorn at my back so it didn’t pull so much on my left shoulder. Then he gripped my knee. “Do you remember what you said to me this morning when Lucius brought you to my compound?” After a moment’s thought, I nodded. “You’ve always had my respect, Lord Cardonaccum.” He stepped back. “Travel safely.”

Titus flipped the reins over Rosehill’s head and handed them to me. He gave the mare a final pat and moved aside. “I will wait for your signal, Lady,” he said. Rosehill swung her head and nudged my right knee with her delicate muzzle.

“I will see you later, sir,” I gathered up Rosehill’s reins and twisted around in the saddle to look back at my pitiful train. Edine met my gaze and nodded. Ready. “Let’s go, Rosehill,” I whispered to the mare. At the slightest squeeze from my heels she started off at a sedate pace. I heard Tevan girrup the ox. Almost immediately the creaking of the oxcarts followed.

After a couple of strides, I decided to trust Rosehill and released the reins, letting them rest on her neck so that they swung loosely from her mouth. She did not hesitate but continued with her long, slow stride. Titus is right, she has an easy pace. I ran my hand down her crest, and she flicked one ear back at me but did not falter. Her sturdy body swung easily from side to side beneath me, and she followed the road unerringly.

Somehow Rosehill understood that the oxen would not travel very fast, and she matched her pace to theirs. I made certain to sit quietly on her back, and she made certain to move quietly under me. Her ears flicked busily back and forth and to the sides of the trail, but she showed no unease of her surroundings at all.

The sun was already gone from the western slope of the dean when we reached the last climb to the gates of Cardonaccum. After I checked on the train to ensure there were no stragglers, I looked ahead at the towers. Dark figures with steel glinting golden orange in the late afternoon sun lined the parapets above the gates. I thought I recognized Robert’s golden mane in the center and waved. He waved back, then turned aside. Faint shouts preceded the creaking of the drawbridge over the moat. It drowned out the sound of the falling water from the overflow gap beside the road.

Rosehill lifted her head and stopped as the drawbridge dropped into position. Four of the thistlemen ran out, their weapons drawn.

“Put your weapons up,” I said quietly. “Help get these people inside.” I kneed Rosehill to one side to make way for the carts. Robert strode out to meet me.

“I see you have Cirsium back,” he spoke quietly when he reached Rosehill’s shoulder. “And on a Legion horse, no less. I take it your mission was successful?”

“Yes,” I said as the first wagon rattled by. “Some of Laird’s men are wounded and need immediate c- care. Please have Siné tend to Tomsen r- right away.”

“How bad are the casualties?” Like the good soldier he was, Robert was already counting the walking and the wounded as the men moved past. “Half of Laird’s force?”

“Half of them died in the battle,” I answered. “Five of the s- survivors refused to follow me, so they’re still with Talos. Edine and her two youngest sons will r- return to Little Oak when the men have fully recovered.”

“Talos and the Legion?” Robert rose his brows at me.

I handed him the rolled standard. “Safeguard this, Robert,” I said. “I will explain once everyone’s inside.”

He tucked the cloth beneath his cloak without comment and turned back to the castle, calling orders to the thistlemen still within. After the last of the former prisoners passed me, I nudged Rosehill forward. She fell in behind the others and walked across the drawbridge without hesitation.

She’s used to the noise of bridges, I thought to myself with a smile. No wonder Titus likes riding her on the long marches. Soon we were within the bailey, and the drawbridge was being drawn up behind us. One of the younger thistlemen - Calum - took Rosehill’s reins. I looked aside to see Enrick waiting to assist me down. Throwing my left leg over the high pommel of the saddle was a little difficult, but the captain steadied me with a hand on my hip until I was ready to dismount. Unlike Wallace’s restless Nightshade, Rosehill stood quietly as I placed my hands on Enrick’s wide shoulders and slid off the saddle.

Once my bare feet were on firm ground, Enrick took his hands away from my waist and stepped back. “We’re glad to see you back safe, milady,” his dark expression belied his neutral tone.

“I’m glad t- to be back,” I laid a hand on Rosehill’s rump and walked around behind her. Enrick followed me and removed Cirsium from the saddle. I smiled at Calum. “Her name is Rosehill, and s- she’s on loan. Please make certain she is well c- cared for. I don’t want her owner to have any c- complaints when I give her back.”

“Yes, milady,” Calum responded. “I’ll make certain of it meself!” He smooched at the mare, and she followed him calmly toward the stables.

Enrick regarded the activity in the courtyard. “I take it these men are what’s left of Laird’s contingent?”

“Most of them,” I answered. “Five of them r- refused to swear fealty to me, so I left them in General T- Talos’s care.”

He snorted. “I’m certain we all know what kind of care they’ll get.” He looked back at me. “What will happen now?”

“I need to speak with Sir Rodric, Sir Broc, R- Robert, Captain Padriac and you,” I answered. “Then I will need to address the folk of C- Cardonaccum.”

“Where do you want us to meet you?” Enrick asked.

“Is Sir Rodric walking yet?” I asked.

“With a crutch, yes,” he answered. “No stairs yet, though.”

“Let’s meet in Lord Wallace’s study, then,” I decided. “Give me about half an hour or s- so.”

“Very well, milady,” Enrick saluted me. “I will notify Robert and Captain Padriac. Robert can speak with the knights.” He turned and walked away.

I moved to where Tevan and Konrad assisted Edine from the cart. Tomsen and the others had already been removed and carried to the hospital set up in the barracks. I spotted Siné already on her way there. Thank Arkay for Robert.

Larena ran down the wide steps from the donjon. “Edine!” she called. “Milady! You’re safe!” She bobbed to me before throwing her arms around Edine. “Oh, I feared so much for you when I found out Sir Laird had taken you out of here!” Edine hugged her back for a moment, tears springing in her eyes again.

“Larena,” I said quietly. “Could you please take Edine and the boys back to the r- rooms they had before? Make certain they have something h- hot to eat and drink. And get them out of th- those dirty clothes. Have Jannet arrange baths for them.”

“Yes, milady,” Larena took Edine’s arm through hers and began to lead her away. Edine hesitated and glanced at me.

“Go on,” I said. “You’ve had a difficult t- time. Now let Larena spoil you. Tomorrow’s soon enough to worry about Little Oak.”

Her arm still linked through Larena’s, Edine managed a half-curtsy to me. Konrad fell in behind her, his feet dragging in exhaustion. Tevan watched them go, then turned to me.

“Milady,” he looked down at his feet, “I - I apologize for the mean things I said to you before.”

“It’s natural to think one’s father is always right,” I said sadly. “Believe me when I tell you I know full well what it’s like t- to learn your father is made from clay, after all.”

Tevan bowed. “I’ll never repay the harm my father has done to you.”

“You are not allowed to r- repent for your father’s actions,” I hardened my voice. “He is the only one who can, and he’s dead. Water over the edge,” I pointed in the direction of the moat where the shimmering fluid fell away into the dean below. “You and I, we have t- tomorrow and the future to focus on. If you can give me what your father gave Lord Wallace so many years, I’m c- content with that.”

“Just tell me when to start!” Tevan straightened up his shoulders.

“You’ve had a hard day yesterday, and an even harder night,” I answered. “For now, go with your mother and rest. I’ll speak to you again t- tomorrow.”

[i]A/N: thought you might like a couple more images to enjoy. Rosehill in this story is a real horse - my first horse, Devan Rosehill. She was a Morgan who came to me at the age of 13. I was owned by her for the next eighteen years, and learned so much from her. Everything about Alorius's Rosehill is directly from mine. Rose passed away in 2009 and I still miss her, especially with this gorgeous fall weather.

And here is my sketch of General Talos.

“Not only that,” General Talos appeared at my side, “If your men see you riding a Legion horse, they’ll be less likely to shoot at my Lieutenant. I like him very much and would like him back in one piece, eventually.” He picked Cirsium up and attached it to the saddle.’ - - I’m liking Talos more with every appearance he makes.

“It will be flown from the eastern tower,” I promised. “Th- thank you, General.” - - Oooh, I like everything that went into this whole little bit about flying the Legion standard.

I’m so glad Lady Cora consented to ride Rosehill. Between the Legion mare and shield/sword of Cardonaccum, she and her train of riding wounded made for a powerful picture as they returned home to their castle. To me, it all enforced how much she really is Lord Cardonaccum – returning from her first ‘campaign’.

What a nicely done (and comforting exchange) between Cora and Tevan. Welcome news indeed!

Loved the wonderful picture of the real Rosehill! Having known the real Superian, I can identify with how comforting it is that when you put her in print it, in a way, immortalizes her. Thanks for sharing.

Nit: “Tomorrow’s soon enough to worry about Little Oaks.” - - Since you have consistently referred to Edine’s home as Little Oak in this episode and previously, I suspect the ‘s’ is an oversight?

"I made a note to keep these animals safe until the owners returned. They were strong, solid beasts, valuable to the farmers in this rocky country."
This little, throwaway observation was a nice subtle piece of character building in Cora. On one hand it speaks to the simple harsh reality of life in Highlands of Scotland High Rock, and on the other it shows Cora living up to her responsibilities of not only leading her hold, but doing so fairly. Many leaders would have simply taken the bullocks as their own with no thought of their owners.

“If your men see you riding a Legion horse, they’ll be less likely to shoot at my Lieutenant. I like him very much and would like him back in one piece, eventually.”
And this says much the same about General Talos.

“I usually just ride bareback.”
Now it is my turn to not mention any dirty innuendos. Nope, not a one.

Very clever plan to use the legion banners. Once more we see Talos thinking ahead.

And so nice to meet the Real Rosehill. Not to mention the slightly real Talos.

I was happy to see Edine stepping up to responsibility right away. Cora is a great role model.

The exchange between Talos and Cora about riding was subtle and delightful. And she usually rides bareback?

Her arm still linked through Larena’s, Edine managed a half-curtsy to me. Konrad fell in behind her, his feet dragging in exhaustion. Tevan watched them go, then turned to me.

What a relief for the family to be back in the fold. Tevan’s words bode well for his future.

How fun to meet the real Rosehill, and I loved your sketch of General Talos! He reminds me of Karl Urban. It’s great to imagine him now in the story the way you see him.

So Talos loans Lady Cora a horse, a standard, and a duress signal.

Smart.

I'm interested to see how the rest of Cardonaccum will take the news that they are now the allies of the Legions. It looks as though Cora's doing everything to prepare for this, including having Cirsium back. Good to have a horse for carrying such a thing.

I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Which I suppose is either me trying to meta-read this story, or just the simple fact that your pacing is thoroughly measured and executed and only leaves me wanting more. Either way, I'm sitting eager for the next installment.

It's a nice touch to include the photo of your old horse, and your sketches of Talos and Odwalt were a welcome sight.

And for the record, I'm not writing off a man. I'm actually doing quite the opposite, writing off the legend and myth and leaving the man. I guess that's writing off the Deity-Walking-Nirn status as well, but hey, toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.

Unlike everyone else, it took me a while to get what Talos' remark regarding the horse meant. Then I realized that if the legion man was riding and Cora was walking, she could be seen as a hostage. With all the arrowy results.


I gave the situation with Onchu some more thought and have come to the conclusion that his threat is more a matter of timing than scale. Yes, mister 'I'm so virile' and Laird could claim Cardonaccum right there and then. The priest however, once he gets to a nice big city, can drum up a crusade.


I also see that Talos even after victory isn't going to just assume things will work out. The contingency with the flag says alot about him and frankly, I can't disagree with his caution. Until Cora is the official lord of Cardonaccum both outside and inside, then he can rest easily. Till then, he keeps his swords sharp and his bows strung.

Speaking of Talos, he looks different than I imagined. Still an awesome sketch though. Is that a scar on the righside of his mouth, or just shading?

@Acadian: I knew you would enjoy the picture of Rosehill. I have more of her, but as they're all film pics, not digital, I would have to go digging through my collection to find them. I had been waiting for the perfect story to put Rosehill, and she said this was it! I hope to show more of her personality in upcoming segments throughout the story.

@SubRosa: Cora is one of those folks who understand the relationship between happy employees and a healthy profit. Investing in her people, i.e. returning the oxen to the crofters, will only benefit Cardonaccum in the long run. Nice job filling in for Dee Foxy!

@Grits: Perhaps it is Edine (the older of the two) who is being the role model for Lady Cora? Either way, I was as relieved by her answer to Lady Cora's question as Cora herself! As for the sketch, Karl Urban in that movie reminds me of General Talos! Talk about perfect casting!

@BamBam: I understood what you meant about the myth and the legend. I'm just saying not to write off the myth or the legend just yet. After all, such stories have a grain of truth in them. Centaurs are just the way the first equestrians appeared to those who had never seen men ride horses (or women, for that matter). Fire-breathing dragons and giants probably were inspired by the discovery of dinosaur fossils which has been ongoing throughout human history. And I could go on, but I have a Nanowrimo write in to head off to this afternoon . . . Glad you enjoyed the pic and the sketches.

@jackcloudy: I think you hit the nail on the head regarding Onchu. Maybe not about the crusade, but definitely about the trouble he could stir up once he reaches Wayrest or Sentinel or one of the other cities around Iliac Bay. I think we all carry our own image of Talos (or Alorius, or one of the other legendary figures in TES history) in our heads. As for the scar, if you want it there, then that's what it is. I haven't pictured him with any facial scars, but that could change!

The story so far: Lady Cora has returned to Cardonaccum with several survivors from Laird's escape, including the widow Edine and the two younger sons Tevan and Konrad. Now she must tell the others of her treaty with General Talos.

****************************
Chapter Nineteen

Jannet exclaimed as I entered the great hall. “What did you do, milady? Traipse through the barnyard after the oxen?”

“You h- have no idea,” I started for the stairs leading up to the second floor.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Jannet moved remarkably fast for such an old woman, standing in front of me with her arms akimbo. “I’ll not have ye tracking that filth through my donjon!” She took me by the arm and led me to a nearby bench. “Just wait right here and I’ll bring you some hot water and towels, milady.”

I slumped back against the wall with a weary sigh. It was now late afternoon, and my early rising began to tell. After a few moments, one of the castle women brought me a mug of hot strong tea. I hunched over it, letting it warm my hands and belly. After a moment, Jannet returned, wide wooden tub on her hip and towels draped over her arm.

I managed to pull my skirts halfway to my knees as she set the tub before me. She ignored me when I tried to stop her from kneeling on the floor. I barely kept the tea from spilling as she brusquely picked up my mud-encased right foot and set it into the hot water. I put my left foot in before she could reach for it, earning a fierce glare from the old woman.

I set the mug on the bench beside me and leaned down to wipe the mud from my feet, but Jannet slapped my hand. "Never mind, milady!" Her tone brooked no argument. "I'll make certain your feet get cleaned right proper! I should have never let you go so long without a decent lady's maid!"

I submitted to her ministrations. "But I've always taken c- care of myself, Jannet," I answered with little conviction. "You know that I've refused time and time again." It was an old argument, one that Jannet often brought up when she didn't approve of my behavior as a Lady of Cardonaccum.

"Hush," she snapped quietly. "You may be a barefoot Witch, and a widow, but you are now first and foremost the Lord of Cardonaccum!" She took one of my feet out and wiped it dry. I leaned back against the stone wall and sipped at my tea, too tired to argue.

She's right, I mused to myself. I am first and foremost Lord of Cardonaccum. But I see it differently than she does. While she sees the role as being one of proper decorum and manner, I see it more as one of leadership. Without Wallace, it is now up to me to see his people - no, my people, safe through this winter. And the next. And so on, as long as I may live.

But Wallace left me barren. I had to face the truth that I had ignored since his passing. And with no heir, who will carry on after me? Who stands to inherit? Do I marry again? Who? It has to be someone that the people will accept.

Dion of Lysium? Cornel of Farrun? My mind ran through the local nobles who held steadings near Cardonaccum. Wallace insulted most of them when he refused to take a second wife from among their families. Instead he hopscotched over the Wrothgarians and chose me. Why?

“There,” Jannet looked up from her brisk toweling. “All finished.” She set my left foot on the floor and leaned back, her gnarled hands in her lap. “Shall I order dinner for milady?”

“Find Niall and Siné,” I rose to my feet, “and meet me in the study in half an hour. And please have someone from the kitchen bring me some stew and bread.”

“Yes, milady,” Jannet refused my offer of assistance and rose to her feet, tub at her waist once more. She turned and walked away, her aged body bent by the weight of the tub. I watched her go. She came with Lady Elspeth, but stayed after she died. Why did she? Jannet could have gone back to Lysium and continued serving in Dion’s family. But no, she remained here and became Wallace’s housekeeper.

Wearily I made my own way to the stairs and entered the study. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow on the panes. It’s getting late. I have to send the signal to Lieutenant Alorius soon. Else they’ll attack Cardonaccum.

Robert knocked at the open door of the study when I sopped the last of the stew with the final bite of bread. Beyond him, I could see the forms of the two captains. “Come in,” I waved them to enter. “Where are Sir Rodric and Sir Broc?”

“Sir Rodric sends word that he is on his way, milady,” Captain Padriac spoke with a slight bow. “He is not yet able to move fast, so he may be the last to arrive.”

“Very well,” I pushed the dinner tray away and sipped at my tea, now cooling. “I will wait for Sir R- Rodric. I have also requested Niall, Jannet and Siné’s attendance, as what I have to s- say affects all of us.”

Robert regarded me silently, his eyes somber. The two captains exchanged glances, but said nothing. Footsteps warned us of the approach of another person. Sir Broc entered the study, brushed past the soldiers without acknowledging their presence, and bowed flamboyantly to me. “Milady, I am here,” he proclaimed. “What do you wish of me?”

“Step over there,” I pointed at the windows. “There are still a few more people yet t- to arrive.” Just then, Niall and Jannet moved into the room, nodding respectfully at Robert and the captains as they passed the men.

“We are here, milady,” Niall bowed deeply with none of the flourish of Broc. “Siné is escorting Sir Rodric, they will be here shortly.”

“What is this meeting about?” Sir Broc demanded, turning his back to the late afternoon light. “The defense of Cardonaccum? Or how you managed to recover Sir Laird’s family?” His eyes narrowed at me. “What exactly did you do?”

“Milady will tell us in her own time!” Robert growled at the young knight. I could see the irritated flush on the big man’s cheeks.

“Of course, milady will tell us when she will,” Broc replied smoothly, not sparing a glance at the big man. “I just hope it will be soon.”

“Would now be soon enough, milady?” Sir Rodric spoke from the doorway, where he leaned on Siné’s strong shoulder. At my gesture, she led him to the chair in the center of the room and eased him into it.

I smiled fondly at the older knight. “You were right, Sir Rodric,” I answered. “You are the last to arrive.” I cast my glance around the room and rose to my feet. “Thank you all for coming. I h- have vital news for you. But first,” I turned my glance to Siné, standing behind Sir Rodric’s seat. “How is Tomsen and the rest of the wounded?”

“Tomsen will live,” Siné answered in her soft voice. “But he won’t fight again. Those wounds are too severe and disabling.” She straightened her shoulders. “As for the rest, some are in dire shape, and the others will return to fighting condition in time. I will know more after I’ve had a chance for a more thorough examination.”

“And you will have that chance, Siné,” I said. “The reason I called you here, and the rest of you,” now I glanced at each man and woman in turn, “is to tell you the t- terms of the truce I’ve established with General Talos.”

“Truce!” Broc exclaimed, stepping forward from the window. “You made a truce with that Colovian fetcher? By yourself?”

“Why not?” Rodric overrode the younger knight’s indignation. “She is the Lord, after all. And she did ask for our opinions, as any good Lord should.” His gaze turned back to me. “What are the terms of the truce?”

“As you have seen, he has returned Sir Laird’s family and most of the s- surviving men to my care,” I said, pouring myself a fresh cup of tea. “And he has agreed to immediately withdraw his t- troops southward.”

“And in return he gets - what?” Rodric’s eyes were steady on mine.

“Cardonaccum becomes an ally of his, and s- stands watch on An Sloc,” I replied. Rodric nodded to himself, approval in the lines of his mouth. “Also, a century of the Legion remains here to r- reinforce the soldiers.” He blinked.

“What?” Sir Broc’s reaction was violently explosive as he stepped toward me. Robert and Enrick leaped forward to block his advance. “We have to host a century of our enemy?”

I met Broc’s gaze. “Not we,” I kept my voice quiet. “Only the L- Lord of Cardonaccum.”

His eyes flashed. “The Lord of Cardonaccum?” he repeated. “And who may that be, milady?”

Robert glanced at me as he strong-armed Broc backwards. “Will they be stationed within the castle?” he asked.

Relieved not to have to face down Broc just yet, I nodded. “At least for the t- time being. Lieutenant Alorius may have different ideas, but for now we can put th- them up in our barracks.”

“Alongside our men?” Enrick moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Robert, effectively blocking Broc from shoving his way forward again. “The space’s a little tight as it is.”

“We’ll have to manage for a day or two,” I replied. “Some of our men will h- have to go with Dame Edine to provide support until her own men are well again,” I nodded at Siné. “That should resolve the s- space problem for now, at least.” I turned my gaze to Robert. “We’ll have to c- continue the castle on siege footing through the winter.”

“That means hot-bunking,” Robert nodded with a growl. “It’ll be a challenge.”

“We’ll figure something out, R- Robert,” I agreed. Now I turned to Siné. “How soon will Sir R- Rodric be well enough to return to his own manor?”

“As long as he travels by oxcart,” Siné responded, “he can leave on the morrow.”

“What!” Rodric exploded in mock outrage. “Ride in an oxcart! I’d rather kiss the backend of my war charger!” He turned his blue gaze on me. “Are you that anxious to get rid of me, milady?”

I’m anxious to get rid of Broc, I thought silently at him. “Not really, Sir Rodric,” I kept my voice steady. “But I think you and your wife would rather s- spend the winter months within the c- comfort of your manor. And snow is coming - the roads will be closed soon.”

Finally Broc managed to step past Robert and Enrick. “And I, milady?” The anger in his eyes belied his conciliatory tone. “Certainly you are not sending me away when you need a man at your side!”

“Sir Broc,” I stifled my sigh at his transparent ambition. “I do not need you or any other man at my side to c- carry out my duties for me. Robert Whitearm and Captain Enrick Dougal shall c- command the fighting men on my behalf, and I have Niall,” I nodded at the cadaverous man, who bowed solemnly in response, “to assist me with the castle folk. You,” I turned back to the younger knight, “really should r- return to your manor and settle in for the winter.”

Broc regarded me blackly, but remained silent. Abruptly he bowed to me, but his flourish held barely suppressed rage. He turned and stalked out of the study without another word.

Enrick and Padriac exchanged glances, then looked to Robert. He in turn, regarded Sir Rodric thoughtfully. Niall’s face remained expressionless, as always. Siné returned my gaze neutrally, but I could see indignation in Jannet’s visage.

“Well,” Sir Rodric puffed through his mustache, “there’s that.” He turned to me. “Of course we shall return to our manors, once General Talos has withdrawn fully. How soon do you expect that to happen?”

“I expect t- tomorrow,” I turned to my castellan. “Robert, please take that cloth I gave you and fly it from the eastern gate tower. Make certain it’s the eastern one, not the western. That’s the s- signal for Lieutenant Alorius to bring his century up. They’re about five miles away, so it’ll take them some time to c- come up to the gates.”

“Very well, milady,” Robert overcame his flash of surprise and bowed to me. “If you will excuse me -“

“Just one moment more, Robert,” I held up a hand, then met Captain Enrick’s gaze. “I need to know that I have your s- support in this. The men are not going to be willing to s- share their quarters with the enemy.”

“Don’t worry about it, milady,” Enrick nodded courteously to me. “Robert and I will see to it ourselves.”

Captain Padriac turned to Sir Rodric. “And I support my lord as always,” he said. “So if he agrees with milady -?”

“Of course!” Rodric rumbled. “Milady is the one who went into that lion’s den and purchased our safety and freedom. The price for it is relatively mild.” He winked at me. “Though I would prefer to stay and lend milady my support, I can do so as well from our manor. And you already have capable folk here,” his waving hand indicated the others remaining in the room. “I would be just deadweight eating you out of house and donjon!”

no, my people, safe through this winter
There was a lovely self-admission of Cora's place in Cardonaccum. No longer is she an outsider who married in.

“Step over there,” I pointed at the windows.
Where it will all the easier to push him out...

I see Sir Broc continues to be a problem. He seems to be stepping up from simply being a lecher who wants to marry into power, to filling in the absence left by Sir Laird of questioning Cora's right to rule. At least she got rid of him for the winter. But I am afraid that banishing him to his manor is only going to give him time to stew, and plot, against her. Perhaps with the help of Onchu?

Perhaps they can put up Talos' men in the Salt Room? I wonder if in 400 years there will be a plaque on the wall that reads: "Tiber Septim slept here."

All in all that went pretty well. The people we expected to support Lady Cora did, and the one we know is trouble simply showed his colors once more. I am looking forward to seeing how Alorius seasons this pot you are brewing, and his century.

nits:
[i]I’m anxious to get rid of Broc I thought silently at him. “Not really, Sir Rodric,” I kept my voice steady. “But I think you and your wife would rather s- spend the winter months within the c- comfort of your manor. And snow is coming - the roads will be closed soon.”
Looks like an errant italics mark got left at the beginning of your sentence.

The foot-washing scene said much about both women – all of it good.

‘Dion of Lysium? Cornel of Farrun? My mind ran through the local nobles who held steadings near Cardonaccum. Wallace insulted most of them when he refused to take a second wife from among their families. Instead he hopscotched over the Wrothgarians and chose me. Why?’
- - As Cora ponders the possibilities for remarriage, I believe she answered her own question. If the time comes, I expect her choice will be, like Wallace’s, an outsider.

‘Sir Broc entered the study, brushed past the soldiers without acknowledging their presence, and bowed flamboyantly to me. “Milady, I am here,” he proclaimed. “What do you wish of me?”
- - What a completely characteristic and smarmily Brocish entrance! I see Milady has the wits and tact to not exactly answer his question honestly.

“Of course!” Rodric rumbled. “Milady is the one who went into that lion’s den and purchased our safety and freedom. The price for it is relatively mild.” He winked at me. “Though I would prefer to stay and lend milady my support, I can do so as well from our manor. And you already have capable folk here,” his waving hand indicated the others remaining in the room. “I would be just deadweight eating you out of house and donjon!”
- - Another stand up and cheer moment! LadyLord Cora has done it! Honestly, ya gotta love some of these guys like Robert and Rodric. Sure, Broc and Pillsbury represent likely problems ahead, but overall, Cora is really stepping up to her role. Not too shabby for a barefoot witch.

I enjoyed the foot washing scene with Jannet. Cora’s thoughts filled in the meaning behind Jannet’s simple words and actions.

The meeting went well, and it made me wonder how the news of the treaty will sound to the regular folks once it works its way down the ranks. The coming winter sounds like it will bring close quarters and closed roads. This segment really brought up how the season is itself a danger.

I’m already looking forward to the next part!

I'd have thought Jannet would be pleased to see her wearing something on her feet, even it was clay shoes!

Cora needs to let herself use the noble "we" when she's speaking as Lord of Cardonaccum. Third person would be better, except that Broc would seize on that and assume she's not referring to herself, and TES has made it a Khajiit thing.

Sending the knights to look after their own holdings for the winter should get rid of Broc for a while. And it will give Laird's lads a chance to grow a bit, if they can take on some responsibilities.

I look forward to finding out how Sir Rodric will make the journey, and if anything gets kissed.

Man, and I would have loved to have seen Sir Broc stay at Cardonaccum, with some legionaries helping themselves to his manor on a rotational duty so that Lieutenant Alorius and his men got some space on a weekly basis.

I'm still waiting for the other shoe (or is it skirt length?) to drop, but I'm glad to see more of the members of Cardonaccum accepting the truce and their new Lord. Even if it does require the time-consuming task of washing a bare-foot witch.

And for your mention of how dinosaur skeletons influenced the myths of dragons, you get this:
Biology and Dragons

I think the fire thing comes from being 100% certified Grade-A Awesome.

@SubRosa: Of course banishing Broc to his manor for the winter would give him the space he needs to further his own plots! But if Lady Cora didn't banish him, we wouldn't have much of a story, would we? Actually, we see why she thinks that is the best course of action later in the story. Riiight, Cardonaccum would still be standing in 400 years to boast such a plaque in the Salt Room! Actually, they renamed it the Tiber Septim Room! Thanks for the nit!

@Acadian: As I see it, Jannet fills the void in Lady Cora's life that was left when her mother died. It just seems like the culmination of a logical evolution for Jannet - originally a nanny, then a lady's maid, now a housekeeper. A mom fills all of those roles for the family (and then some). I see Jannet as a mom frustrated by the lack of children to call her own. Thanks for your endorsement of Broc's entrance! I wanted to keep his smarminess fresh in everyone's mind! We will see just how much Lady Cora, Lord of Cardonaccum, has grown into her role at, oh, about chapter 33 or so.

@Grits: I wanted the upcoming winter to be a constant presence, because it is inexorable, unlike General Talos, Sir Broc and the Pillsbury Priest. Thanks for your endorsement of my writing decisions. I enjoyed the foot-washing scene, too. Jannet really shines here.

@ghastley: I doubt that Lady Cora would ever let herself become so presumptuous as to speak of herself in the third person. After all, she comes from very humble beginnings.

@Captain Hammer: It would be nice, wouldn't it, if the legionaries would take advantage of Broc's well-appointed manor over the winter, as you suggest. But I think Lady Cora's more afraid of having that smarmy butthole in her castle all winter than of what mischief he could cook up at his manor. I loved your linky. Is it scary that I actually understand most of that long-winded comment about which dinosaur type it could really be?

To all: Sorry for the late post. I have been so wrapped up in my Nanowrimo that I lost track of the days and forgot that today is my normal posting day for Cardonaccum. I banged out over 4700 words on this project, and that brings me to over 23,000 words total. I'm happy with the way this story is going. Don't worry, Cardonaccum has nearly forty chapters written, and I still have the best part to write! Thanks to all for reading this past Nanowrimo endeavor (the first 26 chapters were written for Nanowrimo 2011).

The story so far: Lady Cora has returned to Cardonaccum and notified her knights and captains of the treaty terms. Now she has to ready the castle for the arrival of Lieutenant Alorius and his legion.

*********************
Chapter Twenty

“Lower the bridge!” Robert’s stentorian blast echoed off the stone walls of the bailey. Torchlight flickered around the castle and creaking gears filled the dusk with their complaints. The drawbridge landed on the far bank with a dull thud as the off-duty castle thistlemen and Wallace’s fighting force, what remained of them, gathered in the courtyard.

I waited on the donjon steps as the bailey gates drew open with much cursing and wooden groaning. Behind me, several castle folk murmured among themselves, waiting for the first glimpse of the approaching Legion century. Above, the red and black standard snapped in the westerly breeze, barely visible in the fading light.

Robert approached me from the gate towers. “They are at the bottom of the cliff, milady,” he announced. His blue eyes flashed a glare at the murmuring folk behind me, quelling their excitement for a moment. I nodded and moved down the steps. “You will meet them?”

“Of course,” I answered. “It is my duty as Lord of Cardonaccum.” Briefly I considered asking him to come with me. But Wallace never requested anything of Robert, only commanded. “Come with me, Robert. I’d like C- Captain Enrick on the walls - just in case.”

“Of course!” Robert nodded curtly with a final glare at the castle folk. He fell into step beside me, shortening his long stride to match mine.

As we passed through the gates, I glanced up at him. “Please think k- kindly of the castle folk. These are unusual times for them.”

“Unusual times for us fighting men,” Robert growled. “Never has Cardonaccum surrendered to the enemy before!”

“And we haven’t surrendered this time, either,” I returned, feeling a little heat rise in my cheeks. “I merely s- sought an understanding that was beneficial to both the General and myself. He did open the door, you r- recall.”

“Aye, that I do,” Robert muttered. “But not many folks know he made the first move, you see. The men are wondering if you caved in too easily once Talos showed his strength.”

“Do you?” I challenged Robert. “If you doubt me, now’s the time to say s- so!” Aware of the men watching from the walls, I didn’t hesitate in my stride, but I could tell my tone had checked him.

To his credit Robert didn’t falter either, but kept his blue gaze ahead. “The time for doubting is past,” he said finally. “I don’t know how much courage it took for you to walk alone to General Talos’s camp and confront him by yourself. I doubt I have that much!” He took a deep breath and let it out in an audible sigh. “Lord Wallace saw something in you years ago, when he chose you for his second wife. I don’t think I’ve seen all of it yet, but what I’ve seen so far is mighty impressive for such a little woman.”

We reached the far bank of the moat in silence. I looked down the steep slope and spotted the marching pennants of the Legion century winding their way up the road toward the gates. Their pace was slow, accompanied by the slow skirling of pipes.

“I wonder why they use pipes instead of drums for the march?” I wondered aloud.

Robert shrugged. “Who knows?” He considered their approach for a few minutes. “That lieutenant of Talos’s is quite the horseman.”

I followed his gaze and spotted the lead rider, seated on a chestnut stallion almost as feisty as Nightshade. The horse jibbed at the bit, swinging his hindquarters from side to side, impatient with the slow pace of the marching troops. Yet Titus sat the horse easily, as if his body melded with the stallion’s much like a centaur. I couldn’t see how he maintained control over his energetic mount, for his hands and legs remained still and motionless.

“Looks like his parade or war mount,” I remarked softly. “He loaned me his marching h- horse.”

“That little mare?” Robert exclaimed. “That was a true lady’s horse!”

“He likes Rosehill for long distances since she has a nice gait,” I replied. “After riding h- her, I can appreciate his meaning.” I nodded toward the chestnut stallion as he danced toward the precipice yet again. “Better than c- constantly fighting that much wild energy.”

“Aye, and both horse and rider would be fresh by the time they arrived to the field of battle,” Robert agreed. He turned and glanced back at the gates. “Enrick is on station, milady,” he added. “We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”

“I expect there will be problems between the men,” I kept my voice quiet to avoid carrying to Titus, now nearing earshot. “I am counting on you and Enrick to keep our men in line.”

“And theirs?” Robert’s brow arched in the gathering dusk.

“We’ll have to depend on Lieutenant Alorius’s good sense,” I answered. “To be honest, I rather liked him.” He’s not as cold or inscrutable as Talos. And he did show me kindness in lending me his mare.

“Then we’ll have to petition Arkay that the Legion commander has the sense we are hoping he has!” Robert muttered as the red stallion snorted and blew his way to a head-tossing halt before us. His short mane fluttered along his arched neck as he eyed us with white-rimmed dark eyes. I noticed that he had the same chiseled head as Rosehill, the same red color as she. He possessed only a single white star which gleamed softly through the dark leather bridle he wore.

“Greetings, Lady Cora,” Titus managed to bow while keeping his mount restrained. The horse pawed fiercely at the cobblestones as the legionaries clattered to a halt behind him. “Shush, Inferno.” The stallion jibbed so violently his brasses clattered and foam flew from his lips. I reached out and laid my hand on his nose, as I had done for Nightshade so long ago, yet not so long ago. “Lady -“ Titus caught his breath as Inferno snorted, then subsided beneath my palm as I blew into his nostrils. The commander’s gaze beneath his helm was wide with wonder as Inferno stood still, no longer tense or thrumming with frustrated energy.

“I see why you like to ride Rosehill on the long marches,” I murmured to Titus. “This one is quite full of h- himself.” I drew myself straighter as one of the legionaries stepped forward to take Inferno’s rein. The horse only flicked an ear at him, his attention riveted on me. “Welcome to Cardonaccum, Lieutenant Alorius. You’ve met my c- castellan, Robert Whitearm.”

“Yes, I have,” Titus dismounted with ease, running a gauntleted hand along Inferno’s neck, sleek with lather. He nodded at the legionary and reclaimed the reins. “Sir.” He gave Robert a courteous nod.

“Lieutenant,” Robert returned. He stepped aside as I turned back for the gates. Titus fell in on my right side, leading Inferno opposite.

The four of us - Robert, myself, Titus and Inferno, walked across the broad drawbridge. Behind, I could hear the troops following at a crisp march.

“We will have to picket some of your h- horses,” I said to Titus. “I hope there are not too many stallions among your Legion. Nightshade is not fond of c- competition, and it seems to me Inferno is of the s- same mind!”

“Put him next to Rosehill,” Titus responded. “She’ll put him in his place right quick. After all, she’s his mother!”

“Really?” I glanced past him at Inferno’s profile. “I thought he r- resembled her somewhat.”

“As for the Legion horses, the rest of them are mares and geldings,” Titus continued matter-of-factly. “They’ll be fine if you picket them outside your stables. Honestly, my men can camp in an out of the way corner of your bailey.”

“Nonsense!” Robert growled. “We’ve room in the barracks, as long as we hot-bunk. If your men are up to it, they can share the watch with ours.”

“Fair enough,” Titus answered. “Though I wouldn’t want to cause resentment among your men.”

“We’ve been on combat footing for the past s- sevenday, Lieutenant,” I broke in. “They were hot-bunking before Lord Wallace left to meet General T- Talos on the field.” And lost half of our fighting force there. Titus sent me a sidelong glance, but didn’t speak. He knows what we are thinking. By Arkay, he’d be thinking the same too, were he in our place! “In any c- case, our knights will be leaving soon, and taking their men with them. That should give everyone s- some breathing room.”

“Good, I’ll be certain to let my centurions know,” Titus remarked as we passed beneath the archway of the gates. “My men have been warned to be on their best behavior.”

“As have mine,” I stopped to let the stable grooms approach Inferno. “But I still expect some friction between them - after all, I’m c- certain your men are as proud as mine!” I faced Titus as he surrendered Inferno to one of the boys. When he met my gaze, I took a deep breath. “We shall h- have to be prepared for it.”

“Of course, Lady,” Titus nodded respectfully. “I expect given time things will settle down.” He jerked his head at the approaching men. “They know to keep a sharp eye out for trouble.”

I glanced up at the sky. “It’s getting late, and nearly t- time for dinner. I would like you and your s- sergeants to join me, Castellan Robert and Captain Enrick at dinner in the hall this evening.” The sergeants, weathered veterans all, shifted uneasily. “It would be best if we all got t- to know each other by face and name.”

Titus regarded me for several long breaths. “We accept your gracious invitation, Lady,” he said finally. “But give us time to get our men and animals squared away.”

“Would two hours be enough t- time?” I asked. “Your men can be fed at the s- same time as ours, as well.”

“Two hours will be adequate,” Titus nodded.

I stepped back. “Then I shall hand you over to R- Robert’s hospitality. I’m certain you will find it better than last time!”

Titus smiled. “I certainly hope so!”

I watched as the legionaries followed Robert to the barracks wing. Their horses were led away to the stables, where the grooms had set up picket lines for them. The horse-master, a bow-legged man with grizzled hair, caught my gaze and darted to stand before me. “Milady? Yon stallion can’t be put on the picket, can he?”

“Inferno?” I gazed toward the stables, where Inferno tossed his head and nearly lifted his boy off the ground. “Lieutenant Alorius said to put him next to R- Rosehill. She’s his dam, Cadric, she’ll s- settle him down.”

“Aye, milady!” Cadric knuckled his forehead and darted off. I turned and mounted the steps toward the front door of the donjon.

Within, I found pandemonium as children fought to peer through the narrow slits at the legionaries passing through the bailey. Behind them, a few of the unmarried castle women craned their necks and stood on tiptoe. I shook my head to myself. I wonder how many of these girls will be suckling babes this time next year. That’s another source of potential trouble. Best speak to Jannet about this.

I found Machara berating another hapless kitchen boy, this time for letting his knives go dull. I waited until her tirade was finished and caught her attention before she could find another victim. “I need your help t- tonight, Machara,” I said. “I’ve invited the Legion commander and his sergeants to dinner with me, Robert and Enrick. We’ll be dining in the great hall, of c- course.”

The big cook’s eyes widened. “What on Nirn shall I feed those Colovian heathens!”

“They worship the Eight, just as we do,” I admonished her firmly. She blinked, then lowered her gaze contritely. “I think r- roast beef and roasted r- root vegetables will be most welcome on this cold night,” I continued. “Along with fresh baked bread and butter, of c- course.”

“And wine, milady?” Machara’s eyes were distant, and I knew she was already planning the logistics of dinner.

“I will have Niall bring up some of the red from five years ago, as well as this h- harvest’s beer.” I drew her attention back to me with a hand on her wrist. “Do Lord Wallace proud with th- this meal, please.”

“Of course!”

“I don’t think I’ve seen all of it yet, but what I’ve seen so far is mighty impressive for such a little woman.” - - Aww, you gotta love Robert here.

A grand arrival by the Legion that, overall, is going well so far. How neat and appropriate that Rosehill is Inferno’s mom!

I find myself wanting to think good things about Lieutenant Alorius and, so far, I’m cautiously encouraged.


Nit? “I merely s- Sought an understanding that was beneficial to both the General and myself. He did open the door, you r- recall.” - - I suspect that ‘Sought’ is capitalized here due to oversight?

You already tried Haggis and failed. If they could survive that (and without any whiskey!) then it no longer matters what you try.



So they'll move along briskly and get it over as soon as possible.

creaking gears filled the dusk with their complaints.
This was a wonderful turn of phrase.

“I wonder why they use pipes instead of drums for the march?” I wondered aloud.
Maybe the dreadful racket is supposed to make their enemies quit the field without even fighting?

I enjoyed the extra detail you gave to Inferno, and both the comparison to Rosehill, and the revelation that she is his mother.

A very clever idea of Lady Cora to invite not only Lt. Alorius to dinner, but also his ncos, and her own two main soldiers. As she said, it is a good way to get everyone on the same page.

Ahh, and nothing like some good English beef and potatoes!

“I wonder why they use pipes instead of drums for the march?” I wondered aloud.

Robert shrugged. “Who knows?”

I love how Cora voiced her curiosity but Robert wasn’t distracted into a discussion about it. And of course the possible answers make the reader smile.

The arrival of the Legion was a delight. I felt as if I was watching more than reading it. The rush of activity inside as the kids and unattached women took a peek at the newcomers was an especially vivid touch.

Mmm, roast beef for dinner. I’m looking forward to it already.

So Lieutenant Alorius prefers to stick with the same bloodline of horseflesh. Nice touch, that, making Inferno the colt of Rosehill. It seems that he will continue to surprise me. I like him.



I can just imagine seeing that face. It's the same one my mother used to get when she was absentmindedly asking me what I wanted for dinner on my last night home between college semesters.

And now I'm hungry too. Thanks for that, Rider. I'm going to go rustle up some grub.

@Acadian: Yes, Inferno as Rosehill's son is logical, considering that I also owned the real Rosehill's son (one of three she had for me) and based Inferno on Nat. Unfortunately all of my best pictures of him are on film, not yet converted to digital. An oversight I intend to fix. After Nanowrimo. I think you will end up liking Lieutenant Alorius.

@ghastley: Oh, that's ghastly, ghastley! I laughed myself silly at your comments, especially about the pipes vs. drums. Never thought of it that way, but it makes sublime sense.

@SubRosa: Of course, I had to have Machara feed Acadian! Food does not get the emphasis here that it did in OHDH, but we try to make up for it in its sumptuousness. Lady Cora is not the soldier Julian was, so I doubt that she is as preoccupied with food as our hardworking pilus. And yes, that idea of Lady Cora to get everyone together over a meal is a stroke of genius.

@Grits: I took time to think of how Lady Cora would see the arrival of a whole bunch of unfamiliar men in varying degrees of hairiness would impact the castle folk. She understands all too well the appeal of men with mysterious origins.

@BamBam: I'm glad you like Lieutenant Alorius (or was it Inferno you were referring to?) And yes, my mother gets that same look too whenever I asked if a friend could stay for dinner. I hope this upcoming episode fills up your (virtual) stomach!

The story so far: The legion has arrived, and now Lady Cora is hosting the officers with her own company. We will see how they get along.

********************
Chapter Twenty-one

A sudden hush fell over the bustling hall and drew my attention from the ale flagons in Niall’s hands. At the far end, before the doors now being closed, five men in glittering mail stood close together, helms tucked neatly into the crooks of their elbows. Scarlet cloaks swirled from shoulders made wide by steel pauldrons. The hilts of arming swords rested at their right hips. Three of the men wore white armbands, while a fourth wore red on his right arm. I recognized the fifth as Lieutenant Alorius.

“This is fine, Niall,” I said to the steward, and turned from him to walk to the center of the hall. Titus spotted me and said something to his men. The five of them made their way to meet me on the clean rushes, the castle folk falling back with craning necks. “Welcome to Wallace’s hall,” I looked from legionary to legionary. Each man met my gaze squarely. The one with the red scarf nodded respectfully at me, but the others only stood stiffly. They’re uneasy. This could cause trouble. I wondered at the best way to put a soldier at ease.

“Thank you for inviting us, Lady,” Titus drew my attention back to him. He turned to the eldest of the four sergeants, the one with the red scarf. “This is Quintius Fannius, my pilus hastatus.”

Fannius bowed slightly, just enough to convey respect of my station, but not so much as to be obsequious. “Lady,” was all he said.

Titus waved toward the remaining three. “Fannius’s optio, Manius Laelius, the signifier, Aulus Numicus, and the cornicen, Vibius Memmius.”

I made certain to repeat each man’s name correctly, pronouncing each syllable slowly to prevent my stutter from surfacing. “Forgive me, I thought all of you were sergeants?”

Vibius glanced at Fannius, who gave the slightest nod. “Pardon me, Lady,” the younger man spoke softly. “We do not have sergeants in the Legion as you do among your fighting forces. But you could say our duties are similar to those of your sergeants.”

“Memmius’s grandfather was Breton, much like you,” Titus addressed the surprise I knew showed on my face. “He once served in Lainlyn as one of the fighting men of that barony.”

“Then you are familiar with Breton customs, sir?” I asked Vibius.

He shuffled his feet like a shy teenaged boy and shrugged. “Somewhat, Lady,” he said finally.

A change in the hushed murmuring of the hall alerted me to Sir Rodric’s approach. This time, Captain Padriac supported him.

“Sir Rodric, I’m glad you could join us,” I said when he stopped beside me. Quickly I performed the introductions, the Colovians first, then the knight and his captain to the others. Robert and Captain Enrick joined us before I finished, and were included in the formalities. I glanced around again, this time in vain.

“Whom are you looking for, milady?” Robert had caught my glance.

“I had requested Sir Broc to join us,” I caught his glower. “I thought it best if these Legion men knew us by s- sight and name.” I turned back to Titus. “It is my hope that by meeting like this, and getting to know each other, we may get along better in the future.”

“Well, last I saw of Sir Broc,” Rodric remarked, taking some of his own weight from Padriac’s shoulder, “he was in a very foul mood.” He met Titus’s gaze. “He’s young still, and rather impetuous. Not that it excuses any bad behavior on his part -“

“Understood,” Titus answered with a nod. “It’s a rare young man who knows how to comport himself when the battle has gone against him.”

I was not alone in considering Titus’s words. General Talos would be that rare young man? He seems much older beyond his years. And has the battle ever gone against that one? “Well, I see Niall’s giving me the s- signal,” I said finally. It was true, he had been standing in the archway leading to the dining room beyond the great hall. In his understated way he had been silently telling me that the table was now ready. “Our cook is quite fine in her skills, but t- temperamental if kept waiting. I’d suggest we go in to dinner now. Sir Broc can join us when he can.”

“Excellent idea!” Rodric exclaimed, as Padriac resumed his role as pack mule to the older knight’s bulk. “After you, milady!”

“Lieutenant,” I waved Titus to my left side, “and Castellan,” Robert to my right. “Shall we go in together?”

For the briefest of moments the two men hesitated, and I could sense their bemusement. Shall they offer me their arms? But that implies that I am subordinate to either of them. I resolved their dilemma by gathering my skirts in both hands and setting off, my head high. I may not be as beautiful or elegant as Lady Elspeth, but I won’t shame Wallace’s memory as his widow.

They fell into step beside me, and we made our way across the hall toward the dining room. About half the size of the great hall, it still was impressive in its proportions, with its corbeled ceiling and tall windows, now dark with the night outside. Chandeliers hung suspended over the long table, casting enough light for twenty guests. At each place pages stood behind the heavy chairs, ready to assist their guests. Each chair had a high back, with even taller posts jutting ceilingward, providing convenient protrusions for helms and baldrics. At the head of the table, Thistlethorn hung from the back of the lord’s chair.

Niall and his chief assistant, Gavin, drew the chair back as I approached it. I paused before taking my place before it. “Lieutenant, please sit on my left,” I gestured him toward the appropriate chair. “And Robert, on my right.” As they moved to take their seats, I directed Quintius to sit beside Robert, Enrick next to Titus. Manius sat at Enrick’s left, while Sir Rodric took his place across from the optio. Padriac and Vibius finished the left side of the table, while Aulus took the last seat on the right side, with the final chair empty, awaiting Sir Broc. Niall made a quiet suggestion to Titus, who placed his helm on the left post of his chair and hung his short blade from the right.

The legionaries followed Titus’s example. My own folk had already disposed of their weapons, long blades all of them. We stood at the table as Siné entered from a side door. She moved to the foot of the long board and folded her hands.

“I do not know your customs, Lieutenant, legionaries,” I said quietly. “But here at Cardonaccum, we s- say grace before every meal. Normally I would have the priest accompany us, but as he has left the field of c- combat, we shall have to make do with our healer. Siné, would you please speak to Arkay on our behalf?”

“Yes, milady,” Siné’s melodious voice drifted down the table. “For food where many walk Nirn in hunger, for faith where many walk Nirn in fear, for friends where many walk Nirn alone, we give you thanks, Arkay. Amen.” As we echoed her, I looked up to see Vibius glancing sidelong at the slim healer. He averted his eyes hastily when she raised her gaze to meet mine. “Enjoy your dinner, milady, gentlemen.” As she turned and left the table, I hid my smile at the young man’s discomfiture. Of course he would notice her. Siné is as beautiful as she is compassionate. But she is devoted to her calling. None of the men here at Cardonaccum have succeeded in getting her to look at them as other than patients.

“That was most appropriate,” Titus addressed me. “I do hope that we will become friends in time,” his gaze moved around the table at the others. “If it suits you, we would like to offer our own.”

“Of course, Lieutenant,” I answered. “Go ahead.”

Titus met Quintius’s gaze across the table and nodded. The pilus turned his gaze downward. “Akatosh, bless us sinners as we eat our dinners. Amen.” This time I heard stifled chuckles from Enrick and Padriac as they repeated the close.

“That was very short and - ah -“ Sir Rodric tipped his head back, his eyes twinkling, “succinct.”

“Yes, quite,” I nodded to Niall and gathered my skirts as he and Gavin pulled the chair under my descending rump. On both sides of the table the pages, two to a chair, did the same for the guests. Once we were settled, Niall returned to my place with a flagon of wine and filled my goblet. Gavin accompanied him with a large flask of ale as they went around the table, offering the men a choice of either. Titus, Robert and Sir Rodric chose the wine, a dry red, while the legionaries, Enrick and Padriac selected the ale.

“To our truce,” I held up the pewter goblet once everyone was served. The others echoed my toast before sampling their drinks.

Then Titus rose his own goblet. “May truce grow into friendship.”

“Hear! Hear!” Sir Rodric was most enthusiastic. I regarded him closely, but he seemed quite sober. He met my gaze with a wink, then turned to Aulus, seated at his right, to ask him a question.

A creamy chicken and wild rice soup was served first. As I expected, it was almost hearty enough to be a stew. I watched as the Colovians savored their first taste of Machara’s divine cooking. The surprised looks on their faces told me they had not expected much of our cuisine. I shall have to be certain to tell Machara good work on this dinner. She has made a proper impression on these men.

I didn’t eat much of the main course, already full from the soup. The roast beef with root vegetables marinated in au jus was direct from the gods, perfectly seasoned with rosemary and sage. I contented myself with watching the Colovian soldiers devour every last crumb on their plates.

“Hmm, that was quite delicious,” Titus murmured as the pages cleared away the dinnerware. His gaze followed my own plate as it headed for the kitchen. “But aren’t you hungry, Lady?”

“I am not a big, fighting s- soldier like you and your men,” I answered to Robert’s sudden coughing. “I don’t need as much nourishment to sustain myself.” I sipped at the wine. “But I am glad to see all of you enjoy Machara’s c- cooking.” The red fluid swirled in the bowl of my goblet as I leaned back in the chair. “It is my hope that by having us all sit t- together, we would get to know each other. I can imagine that your men aren’t too happy at being left behind to baby-sit a minor h- holding at the back end of the north wind.” I tipped the goblet at Titus’s startled glance. “With winter coming on, no less.”

He tossed back the dregs of his wine in an attempt to recover his balance. “I’m certain that yours aren’t happy at sharing their barracks with us,” he met my gaze levelly. I regarded him thoughtfully. Out of Talos’s shadow, he is turning out to be quite the accomplished officer himself. No longer does he seem so boyish. “I appreciate your thoughts behind this dinner, Lady,” Titus continued. “But nothing you can do will force our men to respect each other, let alone get along. They will have to figure things out for themselves.”

“Of course,” I nodded my agreement. “I do not expect the men to c- claim blood brotherhood by the morn. I think it is more realistic for those of us at this table to establish a working r- relationship among ourselves. After all, it is up to the leaders to set the example for the men to follow. If they see you,” I gestured with my hand at Titus, then Robert, then each of the remaining guests at the table, “t- treating each other with decent civility, it would be more difficult for them to harbor hate and resentment for former enemies.”

Quintius cleared his throat and set his goblet down on the board. Titus nodded for him to speak. “With all due respect, Lady,” the pilus turned his dark gaze to me, “it will not be easy.”

“So noted, sir,” I replied as Niall refilled my wine. “I can not expect to fully appreciate the magnitude of the t- task before us. But if we,” again I made a circling motion to include all the guests at the table, “do not work together with respect and c- consideration for each other, it will become not difficult, but impossible, for the legionaries and the thistlemen to work together.”

The pilus nodded thoughtfully. “I see you are not flighty, Lady.” Robert shifted suddenly beside him, but I quelled him with a glance.

“I am a child of Nirn,” I said quietly. “My strength comes from the ground. Flightiness is the last word one can use to describe me.” After a sip of my wine, I set the goblet on the board. “Dessert will be a short while coming. Please, ask each other questions. Speak freely, and do not worry about offending a high-born lady, for that is not what I am.”

The men regarded each other warily for several breaths. Finally I sighed. “Let me ask a question, then.” I turned to Quintius. “I understand that as pilus, you are one of the senior leaders under Lieutenant Alorius, c- correct?”

“Yes, Lady.” Unease flickered through Quintius’s eyes.

“Then please satisfy my curiosity. Why such short swords?” I gestured toward the blade resting against the back of his chair. “Our men use longer swords, and Thistlethorn is easily twice as long as your blade. Yet people speak of the Legion with fear and r- respect.”

“Milady has never seen combat with the Legion,” Robert added. “Enrick and Padriac can enlighten her as to how effective the Legion’s use of the short sword is, but they can not explain the why.” I smiled at the sly glance he sent me. “And knowing milady as I do, the why is the answer she seeks.”

“This,” Quintius reached over his shoulder and drew the short sword from its scabbard. Ignoring the sudden tension around the table, he took it by the leaf-shaped blade and extended the leather-wrapped hilt to me, “is the gladius.”

I hesitated, but with his unspoken encouragement I took the hilt in my right hand. Unlike Thistlethorn, it was surprisingly light. Its double-edged blade gleamed in the light from the chandeliers as I examined it closely. “Gladius?” I repeated.

“The legionaries are trained for close-quarter combat,” Quintius explained. Silently I returned the blade to him. He sheathed the gladius before continuing with a lecture of close quarter combat techniques. Enrick and Padriac volunteered their own experiences on the receiving end of Legion tactics. Listening to their discussion, I realized why Wallace had lost to them, my husband who had successfully held off raiders and neighboring nobles seeking to annex Cardonaccum to their lands. I managed to submerge my grief with my fascination for their military talk.

All too soon, pages brought in the dessert - candied apples and wine-poached pears. Each small plate also held a slice of gingerbread. Cups of strong tea were set at each place. The legionaries regarded the fruit with suspicion, but when Titus took the first bite and rolled his eyes in appreciation, they began sampling their servings.

“Lady, we’ve never had anything so fine,” Titus remarked after a sip of the strong tea.

“When Machara has more notice,” I answered, cutting a piece of pear and wiping up some of the poaching juice with it, “she outdoes h- herself with pastries. Perhaps another time she’ll give you the chance to s- sample her best work.”

“Too many sweets spoil fighting men,” Rodric shook his finger at me.

I leaned my chin on my hand. “But the mule works more happily for the c- carrot than he does for the stick.” Coughing around the table caused Rodric to grin widely at me.

“Too many carrots will make the mule fat,” Quintius mock-growled around a mouthful of apple. Rodric clapped his shoulder heartily.

“Then the mule will just have to work harder,” Enrick countered, catching the last crumb of gingerbread. This time chuckles replaced the coughing. Robert caught my gaze and gave me a slow nod. Whatever you’re trying to do, it seems to be working, he appeared to say.

“Lady,” Titus raised his tea cup to me, “it seems to me that we are not so resentful of being separated from the Legion after all!”

A loud bang stopped my response. I looked down the table toward the archway leading into the hall. A form stumbled into the pool of light cast by the chandeliers, sword in hand.

“‘ello, gentsh! Milady, have ye shtarrted w’ out me?” It was a very drunken Broc.

A big episode and a big meal! I'm with Lady Cora - the thick chicken and rice soup (with some wine) sounded superbly filling. But she's right that those around her likely have pretty big appetites.

‘I made certain to repeat each man’s name correctly, pronouncing each syllable slowly to prevent my stutter from surfacing.' - - Very clever, for the technique will surely aid in remembering all the new names as well!

I enjoyed the reality of praising the short blade (and shield) for close-in formation combat that has helped successfully propel the Legion across so much of Tamriel.

Gee, all things considered, this went pretty smoothly. Well, uh oh. . . here comes Broc.

Feeding the reader is always welcome, but at this rate we'll be getting obese!

Acadian already hit the points I was going to comment on. It's interesting that you point out the short sword as a close-combat team weapon, at the same time as SunRosa's turning her villagers into the same kind of outfit. Are you two conspiring?

Alorius' men have some good, solid Latin names. I see he brought all the important people, from the centurion down. I liked Cora's stumbling over their titles compared to Breton sergeants.

Vibius Memmius once serving in Lainlyn was a nice touch of weaving game lore into the story.

I also liked how Cora pondered on how Talos might take being the loser. I expect that he would not take it very well. He might not force choke people like Darth Vader, but I expect there would at least be a tantrum, and lots of broken furniture.

That was a wonderful conundrum on etiquette and position faced by Lady Cora when it came time to actually walk into the dining hall. Deftly averted by gathering up her skirts.

Likewise, very clever seating arrangements. She had mixed them all up, so that they cannot form the obvious cliques the table, and only talk to the people they already know.

It looks like the legionaries were expecting more haggis, and perhaps laverbread! What a pleasant surprise for them.

A nice nod to the capability of the short sword. RPGs so often underrate it, and just see it as something that does less damage than a longer blade. But of course the reality is quite different, especially when one is standing in a dense formation of men where it is literally impossible to swing a 3 or 4 foot blade.

All in all the dinner seemed to go pretty well. Until that cliffhanger at the end of course! Here comes trouble!

Dinner with guests, how wonderful.

It's nice to see how Cora handles these new guests, and how she's juggling the potential for hostilities with the need to make sure Legionaries are fully integrated. I enjoyed the dialogue at the feast, especially the bit about the gladius; severely underrated weapon, that.

All in all, I daresay that that little meal went very amicably and...wait...Broc?

Oh dear.

Yum, cream of chicken soup with rice! That was enough of a meal for me, too. Lady Cora may not be a high-born lady, but she demonstrated her considerable skills throughout the dinner. I enjoyed her banter over the poached pears.

Listening to their discussion, I realized why Wallace had lost to them, my husband who had successfully held off raiders and neighboring nobles seeking to annex Cardonaccum to their lands. I managed to submerge my grief with my fascination for their military talk.

This was my favorite moment in the update.

Yikes, a drunken Sir Broc, sword in hand. Here’s a chance for a demonstration of respect and civility, or not!

@Acadian: Yes, that was a big episode, wasn't it! In more ways than one, indeed. I'm glad you approved of dinner--Machara had you specifically in mind when she whipped this one together. I just had to put in that bit of Legion close-quarters tactics because this is what Lady Cora wanted to learn from Wallace's men. Now it's Alorius's men who get to teach her!

@ghastley: No, we are actually writing our stories independently of each other. The first twenty-five or so chapters of this story (of which this is Chapter 21) were written for Nanowrimo two years ago. I believe SubRosa is writing Seven in the moment, albeit with her usual care in crafting strong sentences to provide a solid foundation for a compelling story. Or you could just say that great minds think alike.

@SubRosa: As I was writing this two years ago, I was thinking to myself: Now I've gotta make sure this episode gets the SubRosa seal of approval for accuracy! I'm glad that the fact that I'm modeling the Legion after the historical Roman Legion comes so clear to a fellow student of military history.

@Colonel Mustard: Dinner with guests is always rife with potential for conflict. I guess that's why it's such a common feature in murder mysteries (and hence the popularity of such dinners featuring a mock murder). Yes, I wanted to make a clear point about the short sword that is so overlooked in games. It is a stabbing weapon, therefore ideal when you are glaring eyeball to eyeball with your foe. This is literally a blade you can bury to the hilt in someone, pull it out and keep going without having to engage in fancy footwork.

@Grits: I enjoyed the comments over the poached pears, too! It was at this point in the dinner that I could feel the tension beginning to thaw between the Legion men and the thistlemen. The little stray thought that you quoted is one of my favorite parts in the whole section.

@all: It seems that Broc made quite the entrance--everyone of you have remarked on his appearance. Of course our favorite Mr. Smarmy isn't going away meekly!

The story so far: Lady Cora has hosted a rather successful dinner with her thistlemen and Lieutenant Alorius's men. However, a very drunken Broc has shown up to throw a monkey wrench in the works. (I know, it's a modern phrase, but I challenge you to come up with a medieval or even Roman Empire version!)In any case, I find drunken dialogue very difficult to write, so if you think a drunk sounds differently, I beg you to enlighten me!

********************
Chapter Twenty-two

Robert and Enrick shot to their feet, the heavy chairs skidding back from the table. I too managed to rise, but found myself pinned between the table and the massive lord’s chair.

“You are late, S- Sir Broc,” I managed to put a heavy dose of censure into my voice. My hands gripped the edge of the board to keep me upright. “I would not keep my guests waiting for you.”

“Of coursh ye wouldn’t!” Broc’s highland accent became more pronounced beneath his slurring. “Milady dosh what milady wantsh, no?” His sword tip lowered to the floor, and he leaned heavily on it. “I shee ye makin’ nice w’ the man who killed yerr hush- husband.” He leered at Titus. I caught the clenching of the lieutenant’s fists on the table. Broc straightened up unsteadily and swung his blade to his shoulder, nearly overbalancing backwards.

Robert took a step toward Broc, but the younger knight stumbled sideways, managing to evade the big castellan’s charge. He reached Rodric’s chair and leaned on its back, his gaze still on Titus.

“Sir Broc!” Rodric roared, twisting around in his chair in a vain attempt to make eye contact with his junior colleague. “You’re sloshed past your eyeballs!”

“Am I?” Broc wiped his sweating face with his left forearm. “And ye’ve been drrinkin’ w’out me, my frriend.” He staggered to Robert’s chair and glanced at Rodric with drunken scorn. “I shee milady ish leadin’ you by the noesh.” He turned to me. “An’ now milady’s workin’ her Witch mashik on th’ Legion.” He bowed with less than his usual grace, nearly striking his forehead on the arm of the lord’s chair. That deadly blade wavered close to my own shoulder.

Titus rose to his feet, his men following suit, as Robert reached for Broc. I held my hands up to stop them in place. “Sir Broc,” I said quietly. “You are making a f- fool of yourself. Stop this n- nonsense now, and leave.”

He stepped back, that sword rising from his shoulder to reach for my face. I kept myself from flinching as its tip wavered mere inches from my nose. “Fool of meself?” he roared, his face turning dusky. “Ye, who bid me to foolishly follow ye into inshanity?” He swung his blade in Titus’s direction. “What’d she do to your Generrul?” A belch escaped his lips, and I nearly choked on the alcoholic fumes. “Shpread her legs for him? Think she’d do th’ shame fer ye?”

I felt the flush spread up from the round neckline of my kirtle at his words. “Sir Broc!” Anger caused my voice to crackle across the hall. His sword snapped toward me as he stiffened, startled. “You speak t- treason!” He stared at me. “Dare you challenge me?” I caught Robert’s scowling gaze and nodded curtly. “Perhaps you’ll think t- twice after you spend the night in the salt room and sober up!”

As Robert moved toward Broc, and Enrick rounded the far end of the table, the younger knight backed away, swinging his sword around him in unsteady defense. He feinted toward the two men, keeping them at a distance. I realized that they were unarmed.

In that same moment, Quintius leaped onto his seat and leaned his foot onto its back, causing the chair to topple backwards. He jumped clear to land behind Broc. As the drunken man tried to confront this new threat, Quintius neatly blocked his sword arm and twisted the sword out of his slack grip. He sprang backwards, the long sword pointing to the floor, as Robert and Enrick rushed the disarmed knight.

Broc shouted in rage as the two men easily overwhelmed him, pinning his arms to his sides and dragging him to the archway. Robert’s shouted orders to the castle thistlemen drowned him out. As several thistlemen appeared, Quintius moved along the board and tossed Broc’s sword in disgust onto the table before the empty seat beside Aulus. He turned toward the doorway and waited, spine straight, feet braced, hands behind his back. Robert said something to the thistlemen, who took Broc into their custody and disappeared.

Enrick stopped before Quintius. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “Normally Sir Broc’s not this troublesome.”

“I’ve seen my share of drunks,” Quintius responded with a shrug. “A little teamwork is all it takes to resolve the problem.”

Wish it were that simple. Suddenly I realized how badly I was shaking. As Robert and Quintius returned to their chairs, the castellan’s gaze on me grew concerned. “Milady?”

I managed to sit down with some modicum of grace. “I’m all r- right,” I assured Robert. Beyond him, Quintius glanced at me from replacing his seat. Instead of taking it, he bowed to me.

“Lady, it was a fine meal,” he turned to Titus. “If you’ll excuse us, sir, we’d best be getting back and making certain the men are settled for the night.”

“Very well, Fannius,” Titus resumed his seat. “Thank you, gentlemen.”

The four legionaries clapped fists to mailed chests, then collected their helms and gladii before heading out the dining room. Rodric signaled to Padriac, who moved around the table to his side.

“If you’ll excuse me, milady,” he bowed from his seated position, “I’d best get to bed. I’ll be traveling by oxcart tomorrow and I am certain it will be more exhausting than riding my charger!” He rose as Robert and Padriac pulled the heavy chair backwards. Once again leaning on his captain, Sir Rodric made his farewells before limping out of the dining room.

I fought the temptation to give in to my anger and weariness. “I am s- sorry, Lieutenant,” I murmured as Robert returned to his seat at my right. “I cannot tell you h- how embarrassed I am by Sir Broc’s behavior.”

“Drink makes men behave in unexpected ways,” Titus responded, his eyes on the strong tea still in his cup. He swirled it and took a sip before he met my gaze. “It also makes them show their true colors.”

“So it does,” I agreed. “Sir Broc was loyal to my h- husband when he was alive, but he does not hold me with the same respect.”

“Forgive me for being blunt, Lady,” Titus lowered his gaze to the board. “It appears to me that Sir Broc sees you as little more than a tramp.” He held up his hand placatingly at Robert’s growl. “I know, that was out of bounds, and I apologize.”

“It’s not the first t- time I’ve been accused of that,” I said wearily, laying my hand on Robert’s wrist. The big castellan calmed down, but continued glaring at the lean Colovian.

“This Sir Broc makes me concerned for your safety, Lady -“ Titus began. This time Robert slapped the table with his big hands, shaking me off as he shot to his feet.

“It is none of your business, Colovian!” he grated between clenched teeth. Titus remained seated, his gaze unflinching on Robert.

I leaned forward and tugged at Robert’s sleeve. “Actually, it is h- his business,” I said quietly. “One of the reasons General Talos stationed Lieutenant Alorius with me is t- to ensure I don’t lose my place as Lord of Cardonaccum. Do you r- remember?” Slowly the big man settled back down, though his scowl didn’t ease.

“Your loyalty does much to set my mind at ease, Castellan,” Titus nodded respectfully at Robert. “Do you agree that we share at least this much in common? That the Lady’s safety and her place on the seat of Cardonaccum is a priority for both of us?”

Robert cleared his throat, then finally nodded curtly. “Aye, that much is true,” he begrudged. “Though I question the motives of your General Talos.”

“That’s understandable,” Titus inclined his head again. He turned to me. “And what will you do about Sir Broc?”

“He has been told to leave t- tomorrow for his manor,” I answered. “Though as drunk as he is tonight, I wonder if he’ll be in any c- condition to head out in the morn.”

“Are you certain you want him out of your sight, Lady?” Titus asked. “After all, it is advised to keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

“True, and ordinarily I would do th- that,” I suppressed the shudder at the thought of bearing Sir Broc’s continual insinuations through the dark days of winter. “But with your men h- housed in our barracks, I fear that his behavior and words may incite his men to stir up trouble.” I shook my head. “It would only end badly.”

Titus was silent for several moments. “But back in his manor, what’s to stop him from plotting against you?”

“Nothing, really,” I leaned back wearily in the chair and sipped the tea, now cooling. “We shall need t- to be prepared for action from that quarter.” I met Titus’s gaze. “He has a younger brother that Wallace wanted to place in ch- charge of that manor. But Tywin is too young for knighthood. He hasn’t even begun squire t- training yet.”

“What Sir Broc said to you tonight was treason,” Titus would not let it go. “That is a punishable crime, at least in the Colovian Estates.”

“As it is here,” I answered. “But he was drunk when he said those th- things. Never has he been so blatant when he was sober. I’d rather wait until he condemns himself through s- sober, overt action before I punish him.”

“And after tonight,” Robert added, “we know just how he really feels about milady sitting in milord’s seat. We’ll watch him all the closer for it.”

“Very well,” Titus drained the last of his strong tea. “Both of you know Sir Broc better than I do. All I see is a foolish young man who is desirous of your body, Lady, as well as all that comes with it.” Again Robert growled at him, again Titus waved a placating hand.

“Robert,” I admonished him gently. “You know I appreciate h- honesty above all else.” I turned back to Titus. “And I do appreciate your honesty, Lieutenant, though it may be blunt at times.”

“And I appreciate the same from you, Lady, and you, Castellan.” Titus shifted to rise, but I put my hand out to him.

“I’d like a little more of your t- time, Lieutenant, if you don’t mind.” When he sat back, I turned to Robert. “Please excuse us. The things I wish to discuss are best k- kept between the Lieutenant and myself for the moment.”

“Milady,” Robert began his protest. “You shouldn’t be alone with -“

“Did I not tell you to hold me in the same r- regard that you once held Lord Wallace?” I kept my tone soft, but he flinched at my reminder.

“Of course,” he replied. “But it’s difficult, after that so-called knight insulted you -.” His voice trailed away.

“Worry about it no more,” I assured him. “Go, please.”

I waited until Robert had left the room before turning to the shadows behind me. “Niall, Gavin?”

“Yes, milady,” Niall appeared at my side. “Do you wish to leave the table?”

“Yes, please,” I answered, irritated at my inability to depart the board without assistance. I have to replace this lord’s chair. As they drew the chair back, two other pages did the same for Titus. “Lieutenant, let’s t- take our wine and sit beside the fire,” I gestured toward the hearth behind me. “This way the folk can c- clear away the dishes and leave us in privacy.”

Niall understood the implicit command and had the pages clear away the remains of dinner very quickly. Titus and I sat in silence, facing each other across the small table beside the flickering flames. As the folk departed the room, Titus met my gaze.

“There is something I am wondering about, Lady,” he began slowly. “But it may be too personal for you to answer.”

“It won’t hurt to ask,” I answered, cradling the goblet in my palms.

“I understand that when Lady Elspeth passed away, several of the local nobles tried to interest Lord Wallace in their daughters. Instead he went across the mountains and chose you. Why?”

I avoided Titus’s gaze, swirling the wine in my goblet as I struggled to gather my whirling emotions under tighter control.

“I’m sorry, Lady,” Titus’s soft voice held contrition. “I can see that you miss your husband terribly.”

I met the lieutenant’s gaze. “It is something I’ve wondered, myself.” I said finally. “I’m not beautiful like h- his first wife. I have no magicka to c- call my own.” I caught his frown. “My strength c- comes from Nirn. I can tell you this since General T- Talos seems to know it already.” I pulled up the hem of my skirts to reveal my bare feet. “As long as my feet are in contact with Nirn, I can withstand magic directed against me, and I r- remain strong and healthy.”

“But we’re on a stone floor,” Titus’s voice held bemusement. “And the upstairs is wooden, I believe.”

“Stone and wood contain the energy of Nirn,” I answered. “They have been merely shaped by mortal hands, not altered or processed. Wool, leather, even paper all have had the power leached out of them.”

“So when you rode Rosehill -“ Titus was still struggling to understand my strength and weakness.

“The strength of Nirn is great indeed,” I said. “It is slow to wane, and slow to renew. The time I rode R- Rosehill was not long enough to make me significantly ill.”

“How many here know of this?” Titus waved his hand vaguely, indicating the donjon and the bailey beyond.

“Just about everyone,” I answered. “When I first came h- here, one of the women insisted I wear shoes. I was young, and anxious to make a good impression, so I let her have h- her way. I grew very ill over the period of a few months.” I looked down at the goblet. “It was Lord Wallace who understood the s- source of my illness, and he made me swear never to wear shoes again.”

“No wonder you loved him so,” Titus murmured. “Do you think to hide your grief? It shows in your eyes every time you speak of him. There are other times when you say nothing, but I can see it, so it must be when you think of him.” He turned his face to the fire. “I can not imagine what it is like for a woman to lose the man she loves.”

I considered him over the rim of my goblet. Is he married? Does he have a love back home, wherever home is for him? “Is there s- such a woman for you, Lieutenant?”

“My wife,” his voice was a whisper. “Two girls. I haven’t seen them for two years.”

“The life of a soldier is a h- hard one,” I matched his tone. “Who suffers more, the soldier torn away from his family, or the family left behind t- to wait and hope for his return?” He did not answer for several breaths. “My turn to ask you s- something, Lieutenant?”

He shook himself and met my gaze. “What is it you wish to know?”

“What sort of man is General Talos?” I held his eyes steadily. “Will he h- honor our truce, or have I made a deal with the daedra?”

Titus fell silent again, his eyes shadowed from the fire. “He is cunning,” he said finally. “He is ambitious, and will stop at nothing to gain that ambition.”

My heart sank. “What is his ambition?”

“To be Emperor of Tamriel.”

Dun dun daaaa....wait, I already knew that.

As someone who has extensive experience with drunkenness, I can assure you that Broc was convincingly pished.


Hehe, going to have to borrow that.


Interesting that Cora wasn't more severe with Broc; after all, that was treason and while looking like a soft touch has its benefits in this situation it leaves me worried that other malcontents might think that they can get away similar deeds without much in the way of repercussion. If I'd been in her shoes (or rather, lack of them) he'd be stripped of his Knighthood and out on his arse faster than you could say 'Talos can go teach his grandmother to suck eggs'.

I was focused on Titus’ manner, actions and reactions throughout both the Broc episode, and the fireside chat. You were right – I do like him. He has the presence and polish of an officer that includes a noble and frank level of honesty.

“What Sir Broc said to you tonight was treason,” Titus would not let it go. “That is a punishable crime, at least in the Colovian Estates.”
“As it is here,” I answered. “But he was drunk when he said those th- things. Never has he been so blatant when he was sober. I’d rather wait until he condemns himself through s- sober, overt action before I punish him.”
- - I will not second-guess milady. Her choice was difficult and, likely, contained elements of both careful calculation and an element of tolerance. Naturally, I hope Broc fetches up again while sober and gets properly skewered so he cannot cause more trouble.

Just when I thought Sir Broc could not make a bigger ass of himself! At least it ended without bloodshed. For now at least. If Cora were a cold-blooded ruler, or a hot-blooded one, he'd be dead after that display. But luckily for him, I do not think she is anxious to execute people. Though I expect that by the end of this story, Sir Broc's head will be stuck upon a pike.

“I understand that when Lady Elspeth passed away, several of the local nobles tried to interest Lord Wallace in their daughters. Instead he went across the mountains and chose you. Why?”
Now that is the million drake question, is it not?

So Titus has a family. I was wondering about that myself. He is a young up and comer, if he was not married yet, I figured it could not be too long.

“He is cunning,” he said finally. “He is ambitious, and will stop at nothing to gain that ambition.”
That sounds like the Talos I expect.

The big question is whether Broc was sober enough that he'll remember any of this later. And will everyone else remind him, or just watch and wait? He does seem to be getting the proverbial "enough rope".

Oh, Broc, I don't think that thine lady started without thee. It's more like you started the heavy drinking without anybody else.

It was nice to see the dinner go so well (mostly) for Cora and her guests. The alternation of seating arrangements was a nice touch and a subtle way of pushing forward with her goal of integrating the legionaries into life at Cardonaccum. The discussion of tactics and the legion's success rate was particularly good, nothing beats a dinner conversation among knights and soldiers talking tactics over the roast beef.

I'll join the others in voicing my approval of this new light that's shining on Titus. He's articulate, honest, and personable, but you also see that he's unyielding and brutally cunning.

Also, the exchange between Lady Cora and Titus after everybody else is gone. I'm hoping that she comes to a better end, but Cora reminds me of Robb Stark remarking that a vassal who drew his sword "only meant to cut my meat for me." The new Lord Cardonaccum seems equally deft at (s)wordplay.



I retract earlier statements made to the contrary. That was what I was waiting for, to see if you would be bringing GENERAL TALOS STORMCROWN, DRAGON OF THE NORTH!!!! to the story. Now, let's see if he gets angry.

@Colonel Mustard: Don't worry, when Broc acts up again, we will see Lady Cora come down very, very hard on him. Thanks for your endorsement of my drunken dialogue, it is much appreciated!

@Acadian: Titus is a gem to write--I guess I can call this the secondary character syndrome. I love writing secondary characters, as you have seen with Jannet, Robert, Rodric, and now Titus. The problem is keeping their moments restrained so they don't take over the whole story! As for Broc, he will properly fetch himself up once more, so don't worry!

@SubRosa: Your expectations concerning Sir Broc are tempting! But events will take their due course, and you will see where Broc's head ends up.

@ghastley: Yes, that is exactly what Lady Cora is doing--giving Broc enough rope. Not only does she have to worry about the opinions of her own crofters, she also has to worry about those of the nobles surrounding Cardonaccum. Because of her position, any hint of tyranny on her part can lead to one of the other myriad minor nobles inhabiting that part of High Rock taking over her seat under the claim of "fighting tyranny." Her liaison with Talos is bad enough.

@BamBam: Titus is a really cool character in his own right. I'm glad that he has been so open about himself as far as his motivations and priorities. We will see more of these discussions between Lady Cora and Lieutenant Alorius. And yes, Talos is indeed THE DRAGONBORN OF THE NORTH!!!

The story so far: Titus's legion has come to Cardonaccum. A very drunken Broc has disgraced himself in front of Lady Cora and her guests. Now we move on through the winter into the following spring.

*******************
Chapter Twenty-three

I wiped my hands dry as I stepped out of the stables. Behind me, soft whickerings assured me that the latest foal was doing well. The mare, one of our saddle horses who had been bred to Wallace’s stallion Nightshade, had little difficulty with the delivery. She had accepted this first foal quickly, showing all the appropriate maternal behavior that I liked to see in broodmares. The foal, a sturdy little colt with spidery legs, was strong and energetic, whinnying before he was even completely discharged from his dam’s womb.

We will have to move them out to the stud farm. Nightshade, too, now that there is no one to ride him into battle anymore. I had stopped by his stall and whispered my congratulations into his ear. Standing next to him, I had noticed the fresh hoofmarks in the walls. He can’t be cooped up now that we’re moving into spring. Though the grooms exercised him daily on the long line, it was not the same thing as far as Wallace’s favorite mount was concerned.

“What did Foxglove have?” Enrick greeted me in the bailey as I made my way toward the donjon.

“A fine colt,” I answered. “Strong, healthy. Black, of course.”

“Not another Nightshade!” Enrick mock-groaned. “Two stallions in the same stable are too much already!”

I chuckled. “Actually, I am thinking of sending Nightshade out to the stud farm along with Foxglove and her colt. He needs the room to run.”

“Aye, where the grass is greener and the mares are prettier!” Enrick lifted his eyes to the blue sky above. I caught Titus’s approach.

“Except for R- Rosehill, you mean,” I said to Enrick, directing his attention to the Legion commander.

“And younger,” Enrick added hastily as Titus stopped beside us. “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, Captain,” Titus returned the greeting. “Lady. I take it you have another foal this morn?”

“Yes, Foxglove had a colt.”

“Congratulations,” Titus smiled at us. “The more time I spend here, the better I understand Cardonaccum’s reputation for fine horses. I am certain Foxglove’s colt is an excellent specimen.”

“Of course!” Enrick exclaimed. “He’s sired by Nightshade, no less!”

Titus rose an eyebrow. “I haven’t yet bred Inferno. He is still quite young. But I like to think he is at least close in quality as your Lord’s stallion.”

I laid a restraining hand on Enrick’s arm, but the captain was smiling. “Having seen your Rosehill,” he remarked, “I wonder if Inferno will pass on her docile temperament.”

“Inferno is a t- typical stallion,” I broke in lightly. “Just as Nightshade is t- typical himself. It would be wise not to deny them the prerogatives of s- stallionhood.” I turned to Titus. “If you think you can spare him for a s- sevenday, Inferno is welcome to visit our stud farm. I find myself curious about h- how he would cross with our bloodlines.”

“It’s all Cadric can talk about,” Enrick remarked. “He thinks Inferno would be a good cross on Nightshade’s daughters.”

“Rosehill is getting on in years,” Titus commented with a sidelong glance at me. “I am at a loss in finding her replacement--" His voice trailed off deliberately. Enrick’s grin widened.

“Then we have little time in finding a granddaughter of hers suitable enough to take her place!” I exclaimed. “Just tell Cadric when you want to s- send Inferno off, and he’ll see to it!”

Titus made a show of thought, rubbing his chin with overt deliberation. “Well, I suppose if I’m going to do it, it should be now. Before the ground dries enough for the bandits and war parties to come out of hibernation.”

“Then I shall leave you to it,” I gathered my skirts. “As for me, it’s been a long day already, and I have many h- hours to go yet!” It was true - I had spent the early morning hours sitting with Foxglove while she flirted with the idea of foaling. In the end it seemed as if the foal impatiently crawled his way out before the mare could decide what to do.

As I headed for the donjon, I heard Enrick ask Titus about the drilling patterns for the day. By the time the Legion commander replied, I was too far away to catch his words, but I could hear the easy tone of his voice.

In the beginning it had been difficult, but the early rapport that had developed between the Legion officers and my own endured. As I had hoped, seeing the leaders get along and work together with minimum friction had set the example for the rank and file. Now, with the scent of spring softening the chill air and the snow blanket shrinking day by day, the men drilled together quite often. Cardonaccum’s scouts and rangers taught the legionaries how to use the terrain to gather information, how to read the movement of hostile forces in the swirling of ravens in the hills, and how to predict the chaotic weather patterns.

In exchange, Titus’s men taught Enrick’s fighting soldiers the tactics of close-quarters combat, until my men could handle the gladii as handily as they did their own long swords and pikes. Robert’s own castle thistlemen soon took to carrying similar leaf-shaped blades on their hips along with their halberds.

The warmth from the weak sun lingered on my shoulders as I entered the shadows of the donjon. Robert met me in the center of the great hall. “Good morning milady, colt or filly?”

“A black colt with an attitude,” I replied. Robert laughed softly and shook his head. “Listen, I think it’s t- time to visit the crofters in the hills,” I continued. “It’s lambing season, and I want to make certain they lack for naught.”

“And find new sources for your alchemical fiddlings, I’m certain,” Robert added. “How many thistlemen, do you think?”

“T- two should be enough,” I answered. With Broc still licking his wounded pride at Northside Manor, both Titus and Robert fretted over my safety each time I ventured outside the walls of the bailey. While I understood and appreciated their concern, I refused to remain cooped up inside the castle. The guard escort was our compromise.

“And I will be taking Servius Terentius,” I named the Legion healer. “I hate to take Siné away from Cardonaccum when so many folk are s- still fighting the chills. Terentius has been interested in our folk ways, I think he’ll welcome the opportunity to learn new things.”

“The Lieutenant is fine with this?” Robert asked. I nodded. “Well, that’s good. The man carries a sword, too, after all.”

“Give me t- two of your bowmen.” I can use their keen sight to spot early blooms. The snowbells and the crocuses should be coming up in some areas.

Soon I was leaving Cardonaccum Castle behind. Two thistlemen, dark Rory and burly Mungo, accompanied me, one in front and one behind. Servius, lean in his ranger leathers, paced at my side. After a winter of foraging for alchemical flora with me in the dean south of the castle, he had become accustomed to my ability to travel barefoot over rough ground.

We headed to the eastern hills, past the clearing where Talos had pitched his headquarters. Beyond the bramble thickets we found snowbells and crocuses on the southwestern faces of the stones, where the sun had the longest to warm the dirt. They had not yet bloomed, but Servius found them very interesting nonetheless.

“So they’re at peak potency when they’re just blooming?” he asked. “About when would that be?”

I glanced at the sky. “As long as the sun stays out all day today, and we don’t get frost t- tonight,” I spoke slowly, “tomorrow or the day after.”

“That soon?” Servius peered closer at the tiny plants. I straightened up and glanced at Rory. Feet braced on the boulder above us, he scanned the area around us restlessly.

“Yes, that soon,” I answered. “If we get the chance, we should come back this way tomorrow.”

“I’d like that very much, Lady,” Servius unfolded his lean form from his kneeling. “And where are these crofts you seek?”

“Just over that ridge,” Rory answered for me, pointing up hill. “There’s a nice vale there where the grass is getting an early start. Good lambing grounds for the ewes.”

“Then let’s go,” Servius’s eagerness spurred the thistlemen on. Rory leaped down from his vantage point and took the lead up the slope. Mungo brought up the rear, constantly turning and stepping backwards to scan our back trail. Both thistlemen carried their bows ready in hand.

The sun was at its zenith when we reached the first of the five crofts clustered at the head of the vale. Sheep filled the stone pens up on the windy slopes, and crofters moved among them with their herding dogs.

One of the croft wives gathered at the stream spotted us. She shaded her eyes with her hand, then waved. I waved back. The women collected around us as we drew near.

“Greetings, milady!” they spoke together. “Welcome to Pyke’s Dell!”

“Thank you,” I answered. “We came to see if you needed anything after the winter. It hasn’t been too hard on you, has it?”

“No worse than usual,” the senior woman shrugged round shoulders. “Old Mam Pyke passed at midwinter,” she turned and indicated a fresh cairn that had not been there last fall. “And Annie’s lost her wee bairn to th’ plague last month.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Mona,” I said. “It’s so hard when a little one dies. Do you still have the plague here?”

“Ah, no,” Mona shook her head. “It was just th’ wee one. And Mam was old an’ forgetful, you recall.”

“Yes, I had noticed that she was not recognizing very many of her family when I last visited,” I agreed. “And she had become so frail. How many years did she s- see?”

“Let’s see,” Mona put her hands on her hips and tipped her head back. “She was twenty-three when I was born, and I’m thirty-nine now. That would make her -“ She paused as her fingers ticked off the sum. “- sixty-two years.” She nodded decisively to herself. “Yes, that’s right. Sixty-two.”

Servius’s brows rose. “Only sixty-two?”

“Only sixty-two?” Mona echoed him indignantly. “I’ll tell ye that’s a nice, round age! I’m past me prime as it is!”

I could see Servius struggling to understand the highland burr. “This is Servius Terentius,” I introduced him. “He is a h- healer from the Colovian Estates.” I turned to him and quickly translated Mona’s accent.

“Ach, part of th’ truce?” Mona eyed him speculatively.

Servius understood that much. “Yes, ma’am,” he bowed to her. “And I’m here to learn new things.”

“Ach, you’ve come to the right place, then!” Mona exclaimed. She turned to the other women and made shooing motions. I noticed a couple of the younger ones, still unmarried by their flowing hair, eyeing Servius speculatively as they lingered behind the others. Rory caught my gaze and smiled wryly. In his late thirties, he already had a daughter approaching marriageable age. Often I overheard him complaining that she was giving him grey hairs where the sun didn’t shine with her growing interest in boys.

“It’s spring,” I said to Rory, gesturing toward Mungo, who was watching the girls with an interest of his own.

“So it is, milady,” he responded as Mona drew Servius after him toward the rough stone building in the center of the settlement, where they pooled their alchemical resources. “At least Mona’s happily settled with her man!”

I felt a twinge at the reminder of my own happiness with Wallace. The buried grief stirred deep within my breast.

“Forgive me, milady,” Rory turned his face away. “I didn’t mean to remind you -“

“It’s all right,” I answered. “I’d rather remember the good times we had together, than the end.” And it was true, I could easily forget the sight of Wallace’s ravaged face now, simply by recalling the moments we had shared. “I’ve been blessed to have been s- settled with a man I loved.”

“And now we are all blessed with you, milady,” Rory bowed to me. He stepped back and whistled to Mungo. “We’d best check the perimeter. Send word when you’re ready to leave.”

Nightshade and Foxglove. I love your horse names, even if they are a bit poisonous! Now I expect the other horses to be named Monkshood, Hemlock, Oleander, Yew, Larkspur, and so on...

With all the talk of stallions, I could not help but think of Sir Broc. He is a typical stallion as well. I expect that after spending the winter cooped up in his manor, there are hoof prints on his walls as well.

Robert’s own castle thistlemen soon took to carrying similar leaf-shaped blades on their hips along with their halberds.
An army equipped with Stings! Seriously though, I have always loved the elegant flowing curves of the Xiphos. The Gladius looks like a butcher's tool in comparison. Which I suppose is rather appropriate...

“And I will be taking Servius Terentius,”
I wonder if four centuries from now, Servius will have an descendant who becomes a wastrel of a Count?

I loved all the time spent on everyday country life. The discussions about horses and their breeding, likewise with the sheep, the gathering of ingredients just when they come to ripeness, and so forth. It is a wonderful little touch that adds a great sense of realism to the entire story.

In the beginning it had been difficult, but the early rapport that had developed between the Legion officers and my own endured.

I love how this part comes after the little scene with Titus and the horse planning has provided an example. *takes notes*

I like Servius already. Secondary character syndrome? Yes, please!!

grey hairs where the sun didn’t shine

Lol. That was a real tea-spitter. Never saw it coming!

Devoting the first scene of this episode to horses – what’s not to love about that?

I’m pleased to see the truce held through the winter and that the disparate forces even grew close enogh to share some of the unique features of their own tactics. It seems the only hoof marks on the walls from being cooped up all winter are those from Nightshade. And perhaps from Broc inside his manor?

Then off to chase flowers and sheep.

‘she was giving him grey hairs where the sun didn’t shine’
- - Hey! Who’s been peeking under my kilt?


'I felt a twinge at the reminder of my own happiness with Wallace. The buried grief stirred deep within my breast.
“Forgive me, milady,” Rory turned his face away. “I didn’t mean to remind you -“

- - Rory’s pretty insightful here. . . . And again, here:

“And now we are all blessed with you, milady,” Rory bowed to me.‘

Ooh arr, that were right proper parochial, that were.

The transition from winter to spring was well handled, and works as a way of showing how the Legion is integrating into Cardonaccum, and the season itself served as a nice little allusion to new life etc springing forth. The glimpse into the daily workings of the area around Cardonaccum was interesting as well, and the setting was nicely evoked; made me think a bit of The Chalk from Terry Pratchett's Nac Mac Feegle books.

Glad I commented on the previous one before this story pulled a time-skip.

So, Sir Broc's been packed off for the winter, and without the drain on the cellars the tempers have cooled and the rapport has grown. I wonder, though, has his time at his manor been spent fomenting insurrection, or was he content to ferment drink for his inebriation. Perhaps I forget that my wordplay requires previous inoculation.

So, it's off to the crofters, while Titus looks into trading stud services for a new travel-horse. Cyrodillic mercantilism at its finest.


Of course, it looks as though Inferno isn't the only Cyrod stallion whose stud services may be required.

The pacing and material of this installment was a touch. The immediate domestic matters of Nightshade's new son, followed by the discussion of logistics for the new season and then Lady Cora's decision to begin visiting the crofters helps work in the feel of having spent a winter in Cardonaccum with spring now upon them. Just don't rush off to summer.

Also, wanted to ask, 450 years, give or take, is enough for a true-breeding, black stallion's bloodline to eventually produce true-breeding, white stallions of High Rock, yes?