New Stories: The Leave-taking (Happened)

This story was another bone of contention between Laura and me. Again, it was over her insistence that showing much emotion is not "lady-like" so a tearful farewell would not be josephine's style. As I have explained before, I finally came to understand that what Laura meant was "dignified". Even so, I maintained that after all the royal couple had been through, even not knowing what lies ahead, both would be likely to find a leave-taking a dignified affair. I wound up asking Laura to write the story with me, back and forth, and Josephine finally broke down and wept. Phew! I was beginning to think Elerde could have the Ice Queen You can probably guess that Laura had no hand in the love scenes.

October 1, 769

The King and Queen emerged from the tiny cottage hand in hand. Edred approached them. "Sire, the escort is ready to leave, if it pleases you and my lady."

Lawrence frowned. "Nay, it does not please me. Not at all. Tell them they can wait a little while." To Josephine he said, "I need to talk to you about something. Can we walk a bit?" She nodded and took his arm, and they turned to walk in the meadow on the opposite side of the camp from the fortress.

Their love-making that morning had been hungry and intense, as if they could store it all up for the long time apart - who knew how long? There had been no words, as their bodies communicated with each other on a level beyond conscious interaction. It had nothing to do with slaking sexual desire but rather healing the grief and pain of yet another leave-taking, with the fresh memory of the fear they had each felt when the short visit to her family turned into the Queen's peril.

Lawrence and his Queen walked slowly, stretching out the little time they had left together. They did not speak but sought each other's company as a balm. Lawrence at last stopped and turned to her, taking both her hands in his. "Jo, we have to talk.. about what might happen."

Josephine gazed evenly into her husband's eyes. "Do we, my lord? Do you think that I am not prepared for whatever may happen here? I am prepared, if it is possible to be so... I beg you to put your mind at ease on that score, as I will do everything exactly as you have instructed me in the past."

The King's face clouded with impatience and a hint of irritation. Josephine knew him well and knew this only meant that he had some other deeper need he was avoiding bringing to light. She continued to look at him, waiting for him to look down, nod, and finally open his heart to her as he always did. He said, "And here I interject the gloom, selfishly, to salve my own fear of our parting, while you bravely set all in its rightful place. I know I can trust you with all, 'tis not that I fear.. but of losing.. this." He nodded to their clasped hands.

Josephine shook her head. "Dearest, that is the only thing for which I am not prepared...and for which I cannot be prepared, regardless of how much we speak of it, and that is the possibility of losing you... I do not accept that it may be so, and I will not accept it as long as you live... And if God's will should be otherwise, then I will find out what I will do then, because I will not think of it now....I believe that you will outlive me...not I, you..."

A look of pain touched his face. "God, Jo, I cannot bear the thought of life without you. Do not say such things." Then he paused, and went on, contritely, "You are right, my love. You are right. Nothing is served by saying what is not needful and may only serve to darken our little time together now

She stepped close to him and lay her head on his chest. She took his hands and pull them around her so they stood body to body. "There is no darkness for me in your presence regardless of what you may say...." and after a pause she added, "Do you feel that? I cannot tell which is your heart beating or which is mine, or if indeed we have only one heart...nor where I end and you begin..."

She lifted her head so she could look up at him. "I do not believe that it is possible to part us...even though we must be parted. No matter what shall happen I shall keep this moment always in my mind so that I can feel the part of me that is you. A thousand times a day I shall think of you, so that I face all things not alone, but with you...And whenever you think of me, you will know that I also am thinking of you...and you are not alone...."

She added in a softer, barely audible tone, "And if it should happen that you would ...would never return to me again in this life, I would go on exactly as I have said, thinking of you in every moment of the day and feeling that you are still a part of me, as you are in this moment..."

Josephine stepped back from him a little, her hands still upon his, and she tried to give him her most radiant smile, one that could last him forever if need be... But having forced herself to speak of the very thing which she most wished not to think of, tears sprang to her eyes suddenly and streamed unbidden down her cheeks. Her smile faltered... She tried to turn away, raising her arm to hide her eyes.

Lawrence gently held her hands so she could not turn away. He pulled her to his chest again and put his cheek on her head. "Oh my dearest, I have made you weep. I set out, I think, to air my own fear and sorrow at our parting, and all I have done is grieved you. If I could take back the words.."

Josephine replied from where her tears had wetted his mail shirt. "Nay, love, nay. 'Tis well we acknowledge what may come to pass. It serves no purpose to pretend we are not thinking of it."

He held her tight for some time, feeling her breathing at first ragged then calming. He sought to soften the moment. "My lady, you will rust my iron mail."

Josephine pulled her head back and gave him a wry smile. "Well, now, I should not like to do that and weaken its protection." She tried to smile again, but again could not summon the strength.

Lawrence said, "That is all.. I shall not grieve you further. I will do everything I can do with honor to come back to you." He reached to stroke her hair. He smiled, "Now promise you will take care of that ridiculous Irishman on the journey back. I do not think he is all that well riveted together these days."

Josephine laughed softly and smiled. The King kissed away a single tear at the corner of one of her eyes. "I will look after Shannon, my darling. I promise."

"There is no sense postponing the inevitable. You should go. You need to make the bridge by tomorrow night."

"Oh Lawrence, I love you so," Josephine said as she embraced him with all her might.

"I love you as well, with all my heart." He turned her and put his arm around her shoulders and guided her back to the camp.

A bleary eyed Shannon was there by the empty carts that were going back to Lincoln for supplies. The bard was taking leave of a young woman he had been with since their arrival just a few days before. Lawrence and Josephine exchanged looks.

The Queen waited until the woman had stepped away from the kiss and said to Shannon, "If you do not object, I will ride at least part of the way back to Lincoln in the cart." She knew Shannon would not ride, but wanted him at least to have her company.

"I should be that grateful if ye would, me lady," Shannon said, with one of his funny lopsided smiles. He helped her up into the cart, then climbed in himself after handing her his lute to stow. A man at arms brought the Queen's horse and tethered it to the back of the cart.

Lawrence came around the side where the Queen was settled into some fur covered straw and reached for her hands. "Be safe and kiss the children for me? Tell them I will be home as soon as I can be. I miss them sorely."

Josephine's eyes were full of tears, so she just nodded. He kissed her hands, then stepped back. He signaled to the captain of the escort, and the man called "Forward!" As soon as the horses had cleared the way, the carts lurched into motion. Josephine turned and looked back at her tall, handsome husband who was waving. She waved back but soon her horse was between them and she could no longer see him. Finally the spearmen came into line behind them.

Beside her Shannon picked up his lute and started in on a boisterous, funny song to ease her sorrow.

From the ramparts of Ratherwood Malcolm watched the small force go. "Tell me, the Queen is riding among them?" he asked the younger man at his side.

"Nay, I cannot see her.. nay, wait, I do. She is not riding. She is in a cart with a man with red hair."

Malcolm smiled. "Then our timing will be perfect. This could not have turned out any better if we had planned it this way." He clapped the astonished younger man on the back. "Now things are going to get much more interesting."

Next: Supply Lines Are Cut

New Stories: The Long Road to Keito Uxello (Happened)

March 769

The journey across Crístlicland was wearing but remarkably uneventful. The weather held bright and warm save for drizzle just east of Lincoln. If there had been any brigands lying in wait for unwary travelers along the rough roads, some little more than cowherds' paths, they had seen the mounted and unmounted guard and slipped back into the woods they hid in. The terrain was mostly so gently climbing and descending that one only realized one had reached the top of the Wolds by turning around and seeing how the land sloped behind for miles.

The journey took seven days, the Queen taking the hospitality of houses great and modest along the way. This she enjoyed, meeting people of all kinds was a favorite part of traveling. And besides being delighted to have the Queen bedding down in their homes, her hosts were treated to some rare entertainment from her grace's minstrels.

Josephine spent one melancholy and homesick night at Ratherwood, feeling lonely in the big bed where she and her young King had consummated their marriage so many years before, or so it felt. But in the morning she looked forward to crossing the River Trenta near the village of Cromwell via the bridge that her own and her husband's fathers had built about twenty years ago. Once across, she was home. Affynshire, dear, dear Affynshire.

The only tedious part of the journey was the de rigueur stay in the capital as the guest of the governor general, Cynewulf. The man was a Crísliclandian and not particularly familiar with the very country that he governed for Lawrence and herself. She found him unctuous and self-aggrandizing but bore the pomp he insisted was her due. She stayed only one night, much to the man's irritation, but she explained that her uncle was terribly ill and that she needed to make haste. She made a mental note to let Lawrence know that Cynewulf had not even known who her uncle was in spite of his being an earl and a member of a long respected family.. and her own kin.

Once past the capital, the Queen mixed anxiety for her uncle with nostalgic reminiscences of familiar scenes from her childhood. At long last the road angled uphill , wound into thick woods, and she knew she was nearly home. Her family's stout wooden house with its many outbuildings soon could be seen through the woods. With joy she saw that her aunt and all three of her cousins stood outside in the dooryard, anxiously awaiting her arrival.

Modron stood in front of her three sons. Looking at them all, Rory realized as he walked up to join Josephine, who had dismounted, that he was about a whole head taller than the tallest of the four. The Britons were smallish in stature, darker haired and round-faced. He knew that while the Queen was small and slight, her coloring was clearly the product of an Anglian father.

Modron's face was smiling but her cheeks ran with tears. Rory and Shannon could catch a thread of the words the woman uttered, being Celtic language speakers themselves, but Irish and Brythonic were different enough to make real conversation with Josephine's kinfolk impossible. Shannon noticed that the Queen whispered something in her aunt's ear when she leaned to kiss the salt stained cheeks, and the woman turned and smiled at the Irishmen. "Oh, dear, and I was not being hospitable," the older woman cried in thickly accented English.

In turn each of them took her hand and kissed it, making her blush a little. The Queen introduced her aunt, then turned to smile broadly at the young men who stood waiting.

"I cannot believe I am here standing among you again, and you all so tall and well grown. Let me introduce my friends, Rory McGuinness and Shannon O'Neill. They are minstrels who have been staying at my lord's court."

The young men and their mother all looked very pleased to have two minstrels among them.

Josephine went and took the hand of the fellow who looked to be the eldest, though probably no more than 22 or 23 summers. He had a bow slung over his right shoulder and a quiver of arrows behind his left. "This is my cousin Ruallauh."

Rory looked astounded. "Ruallauh ap Ceretic?"

The man smiled and took Rory's proffered hand. "The very one. You have heard of me?"

Shannon was looking at his tall friend, puzzled.

"Aye, and 'tis a great honor to make the acquaintance of the best archer in all the land!"

Josephine's pride was great. "Had I ne'er told you that Ruallauh the Archer is my cousin?"

She introduced the next young man. "This troublemaker is my cousin Cingen."

This fellow laughed and responded, "What, Sunshine, no plaits for me to pull?"

"And last but not least, this is my cousin Ioruert."

This young man was eying the Queen's sword curiously. "Cousin, he said in his lilting accent, "I did not know you were a warrior queen." He himself was armed with a sword and dagger.

Josephine laughed and promised, "I shall let Shannon tell you all about that at meat this evening."

Modron broke in, "Dearest niece, you must remember dear Clotuyali!" She indicated the old servant who stood discreetly off to one side.

Josephine's face lit up. "But e'en so! Dear Clotuyali! I am so glad to find you here as well this day! How well I recall how carefully you watched and guarded my sister and brother and me along with our wild cousins when we were children."

The old man bowed and his smile and eyes were merry. "Your grace, I too am happy to be here no matter the reason. How is your brother Lorin?"

He thrives as my lord's chancellor.. though he oft frets that by not taking this land's throne he has broken faith with its people."

Ruallauh shook his head. "Nay, cousin, all in this land know he made certain the land would be as safe as possible by turning the reins over to a strong and worthy man, your noble husband."

Then Rory spoke again. "My lady," he said to Modron, " me friend and me have no wish to burden ye with our hospitality. We can sleep the night in the barn and go on our way."

Modron did not need to see Josephine's brief look of distress to assure the two minstrels they were more than welcome. "Nay, nay, good man, do stay with us at least a while. My husband can only be happier if you should give him a song or a tale."

Josephine turned to smile at Rory and Shannon. "My friends, my aunt speaks the truth. My uncle relishes music and the bard's art in general. I know that you can help bring that to him and help him heal." Catching her cousins' expressions changing to sorrow, she quickly turned back to her aunt. "He will heal, will he not?"

Modron took her niece's arm. "'Tis not known, my girl. 'Twas his heart, we think. He is very weak. Clotuyali, please make these fellows comfortable at our hearth, the minstrels and these armed men as well. I shall take my niece to see her uncle now." She drew Josephine with her into the house.

Ceretic, being an earl, had an unusually large house for this part of the foothills. It was thatched with straw brought up from the valley, like any house, but it was tall enough to have a sleeping loft. As the two women went to a steep stair up to it, Josephine asked, "Aunt, do my cousins live here with you and my uncle?"

"Nay, dear, they are all three wed and live in their own homes. Ruallauh lives up near our hunting camp. The other boys live just a stone's throw from this house. You shall have seen the houses as you rode hither."

The Queen's eyes took a few moments to adjust to the dark of the loft. Then she could see him, her uncle, lying gaunt and pale, on the bed made of woven straw covered with blankets. Her heart sank seeing him. He did indeed look close to death. But a surprisingly strong voice came from the bed,. "Sunshine, my girl, what a joy it is to see you again. I am sorry I cannot rise.."

Josephine went quickly to his bedside and sat on the stool next to it. She found and held her uncle's hand. He had only a weak grip to return for her own stronger one. "My uncle," she breathed. "I am sore aggrieved to see you so ill."

Ceretic shook his head. "One look at you, my dear, and I shall be as a young man again." He was speaking to her in her family's language again. She found she remembered it as she listened to it, though she knew her accent and skill with it must have faded with the years. But no one here in this room was going to say anything about that. "Look at how beautiful you have grown. It fair takes my breath away. Methinks your marriage must be a love match, like Modron's and mine. Only that may make a woman stay lovely all the days of her life."

Josephine took the hand she was holding and put its palm to her cheek. "Aye, Uncle, a love match indeed. My lord husband is a good man, a strong man, and he adores me." She smiled as she said the last. "And we have beautiful children."

"You must tell us all about them. Are they as wild as you were, little girl?"

"Not as yet. Our oldest son, Peter, is like his father, so I am told. Cheerful and confident. The girls are but babes yet, and our adopted son, Tavish is quiet and serious."

Modron, who had sat on another stool, said "Like your brother then?"

The Queen looked over at her. "Much like, it seems."

"And none then like your sister, God keep her?" her aunt went on.

Josephine crossed herself. "Nay, thanks be to God. No melancholia in these four. Saint Viviana save us from that."

"I should see to our guests," her aunt said, rising. "Ceretic, my love, our niece has brought us something very special indeed!"

"And what is that, my dearest?" Ceretic croaked.

"Musicians! Two minstrels from Ireland!"

Ceretic's face lit up and he actually regained some color. "Oh m y dear, how wonderful!"

At that very moment the three could hear a lute being played. "That will be Shannon O'Neill, who is a brilliant musician, Uncle," Josephine explained. "A singer and a lute player and one of the funniest people you will e'er meet."

"Funnier than Cingen?" her uncle smiled.

Josephine laughed quietly. "I actually had occasion to make that comparison myself last fall. I will mayhap tell you that story too. We have so much to catch up with.. I shall stay and visit as long as I can."

Next: War Plans Take Shape

New Stories: The Sword Challenge (Cut)

awrence leaned in the door to the Queen's chamber as she was get ready for the day.

"My lady, I shall be occupied with council all morning, but mayhap you would like to join me in sword practice after midday?"

Josephine turned quickly on her stool. "Aye, my lord!" She added, "With you, my lord?"

He smiled. "Aye, with me. And bring your sword." He slipped back through the doorway, an affectionate grin on his face.

Josephine was animated throughout the morning. She spent almost every morning in the nursery with her small children. Peter was now nearly two and a half years old. The twins were fourteen months, and their adopted son Tavish was seventeen months. The Queen would help bathe and dress them, play with them and simply spend as much time with them as she could. As often as possible Lawrence would steal time away to join her.

Peter was a stout young boy with pale hair and large blue eyes. He was a happy child, energetic but also inclined to be serious and thoughtful. "Where's Papa?" he asked this morning.

His mother was pulling his small tunic over his head. "He is busy this morn, my love, I am sorry. He must meet with his ministers."

The boy accepted the explanation. He brightened when the Queen assured him that his father would see him later that day.

After a midday meal in the nursery, Josephine went to her chamber to dress for the practice. It was a chill December afternoon but the swordplay would make her too warm, so she made sure she was well covered but able to take off layers as she warmed up and that her movement would not be hampered by cloaks or other loose clothing.

Then she went to the chest where her sword was stored. She opened the lid and reached in for the long wrapped article. She lifted it reverently, unwrapped the cloth, and took the hilt of the beautiful instrument in her right hand. "Why has my lord asked me to bring my sword, I wonder? And will he have his own? Surely he does not plan to spar with me this day," she thought.

When she reached the practice area in the courtyard Lawrence was there already, turned away from her, stretching his arm and back muscles. She admired the look of him as she advanced to meet him. Rory and Shannon and one of the young knights had gathered to spectate. They all made short bows to her as she approached, the young knight, Lucullus, greeting her with a respectful, "My lady."

Lawrence turned to face her with a look of welcome. "Dearest, you are here. You look well bundled up. 'Tis a chill day, but not windy." He went to her and kissed her lightly on the lips.

From their viewpoint, Shannon cast a sidelong look at Rory, who returned one that was chiding. He did not appreciate Shannon's constant attention to his own affectionate regard for the Queen.

Josephine looked up at her husband's face. "What is it to be them, my lord? Am I not to practice with Rory?"

Lawrence grinned. "Nay my lady, with me. 'Tis important that you spar with different opponents so that you know the many ways you might be approached. Rory, I know, has held back. He is not primarily a swordsman, but he is skilled enough to best you at this point in your training. You shall continue to practice with him, though I have commanded him to make his best effort. But I have also asked Lucullus to spar with you from time to time, and I shall myself when I can take the time. They, however, shall not use steel.. I draw the line there. But I shall."

"With your leave, sir, I must say there is no better teacher than you," Rory spoke up meaning no flattery.

The King just nodded to him, turning back to his wife. "And I think 'tis time you became used to the heft of your sword. So that is why I asked you to bring it this day."

The Queen nodded, her face serious. "Aye, my lord."

Lawrence looked at her earnestly. "I know that you know I am not intending to discourage you in any way. It does you no good, ultimately, if you are not challenged. You know you must practice long and hard.. the merest squire spends years at this."

"And knights continue to learn for all their lives," young Lucullus added.

"I do understand, my lords, and agree that I shall have to face constant defeat to learn. But 'tis my wish to learn to move and think like a swordsman and to defend myself. I shall not be facing an enemy in war."

Lawrence nodded. "God be praised." He went to the various weapons the armorer Uthred had brought out. "Shall we start by warming up with a short match with you, Lucullus? My lady, watch and practice alone." He picked up a helm. Once that was on his head, he drew "My Honour" from his side.

"Sire, are ye not usin' the grand new sword that the smith made for you then?" Shannon asked. He was without his lute as the chill air would be damaging. He sat instead with his arms crossed, caught between interest and boredom.

"Nay, this sword has served me well for many years. She and I shall keep faith, methinks."

Lucullus had also donned a helm and stepped to face the King, his own sword drawn. "Call it, Rory," the King commanded.

With the sign to begin, the young knight crouched and held his sword in plow ward. Josephine carefully attended to this and the King's answering side ward. Neither was using a shield, she saw. The younger man stepped forward to make a jab at the King's side. The King blocked the blow with his own sword, pushing Lucullus back a step. Then the King swept his sword in a clockwise arc and made as if to bring it down on Lucullus' left shoulder. The young man deftly blocked the blow by raising his sword and clanging it hard against the King's.

Josephine had been watching and trying to match the men's moves with her own body and sword. Rory stood and come around the combatants to stand by her. Shannon appeared to be losing whatever interest he had had.

"Why no shields, Rory?" Josephine asked.

"They are just after warmin' themselves up then" he replied.

Josephine made a sound of affirmation, continuing to watch and imitate what the men did. Then the King said, "Enough." She noticed that while the younger knight was breathing more rapidly, the King was relaxed. She firmed her resolve to give this challenge her all.

The Queen went to get a helm, sliding it down over her golden hair which she was wearing in one long plait down her back. The nose guard was too long for her, the bottom end extending over her mouth. "No matter," Lawrence had said, unless you want a helm made. This one is for training only. I should think you shall not be wearing one in your daily travels."

He stood now before her. Her own heart beat faster. This was not a position either of them would have imagined for themselves just months before. He still held his sword "My Honour" and she wondered that he would risk using it on her. She thought, "He must be that good that he can make blows and know they will not draw blood."

Then the King answered her unspoken question. "For now I shall only defend myself. I want you to make every effort to wound me, my lady. Do you understand?" His voice was stern, but not critical.

The Queen replied, "Aye, my lord, I shall." She hoped she could bring herself to.

Lawrence took a defensive stance. Josephine observed him carefully. She was glad to see how serious he was about this. She had long worried that he would either forbid her or would not understand or respect why she meant to gain this skill. She now learned that though he may have been taken aback, he was intent on her getting the very best from the training.

Josephine lifted her sword high and advanced on her royal husband rapidly. He blocked her blow but did not return the attack. She followed her high cut with a sweep of the sword to her left, then down at an angle to his chest. The difference in their heights was not new.. Rory was even taller than the King and she had learned her current skills with him. The King knocked her sword away with a practiced sweep of his sword.

The practice went on like this for several minutes, the Queen making attempts to strike her husband. Her inability to make any contact tired and frustrated her, so any concern she had about hurting Lawrence was replaced with a desire to prove herself. That was just what he had intended. "That is it, that is good.. do not hold your hand, my lady," he coached.

"So this is fruitless," Shannon complained from the sidelines.

Lawrence looked over at him. "Not entirely so, but we shall go on to something else."

"Really, Shannon, I am learning. I am learning that everything I do has a defense. And that like as not I shall e'er face a superior opponent."

Shannon chuckled, "Aye, then, ye are that dauntin' a foe to me. I should not be after likin' to come upon ye on a lonely road."

Lawrence, who had sheathed his sword and gone over to where the weapons were, laughed. "And that is her second lesson.. oftimes 'tis of more use to look threatening than actually to be so."

Shannon replied, "Och, and me lord, 'tis a fine talent ye have.. I am always terrified of ye."

Lawrence looked at him squarely, his expression saying, "'Tis just as I intend." Rory turned away to hide a smile.

Josephine saw that Lawrence had taken up a wooden sword. "My lord, shall I change swords as well?"

"Nay," he said as he came back to position. ""Though we shall spar in earnest, I would you had more time for gauging the feel of the steel." He had picked up two shields and handed her one.

This time it was the King who made the first attack. He smiled when Josephine blocked the blow with her shield. "Excellent," he said with pride. She came back at him with a blow that he deflected as well. It was not long before a block from the Queen's sword made her right side vulnerable. The King spun and brought the "blade" of the practice sword down on her right shoulder where it joined the neck. She cried out with surprise as much as pain, though Lawrence had not hit her hard.

Rory started forward but stopped at a look from her. "Nay, Rory. I am all right."

The royal husband and wife of course had drawn quite an audience. They were themselves so intent on their challenge that they did not notice the murmuring and amusement when the group first gathered around, nor the "ahs" of admiration for many of the Queen's moves. The crowd had gone dead silent when the King had struck Josephine on the shoulder, but then murmured in approval when she had taken the blow bravely.

The Queen was never able to break through the King's defenses. One blow from her sword however did connect with the King's hand as he blocked a clow, slicing his leather glove and drawing blood. This almost stopped the battle, as Josephine had been surprised and alarmed, but she recalled the King's words about "that is what blades do" and determined to not let it deter her. She did however finally call a halt to the practice.

"My lord, I am sorry, but I am exhausted. Methinks you could continue all day and into the night.. but I cannot as of yet, if ever."

Lawrence took off his helm, handed it to Lucullus who had quickly moved to take it, then handed the young man the shield.

"Aye, it does you no good to fight too tired.. that will be something I hope you shall never have to do." Lawrence sheathed his sword, then made a low, smiling bow to her. "You do me honor, my lady, to fight so well."

The Queen could not help a delighted smile. She made her own curtsy. "And you do me the greatest of honor, sire," she said.

As the two walked back to the keep arm in arm, Shannon, who had stood and come to stand with Rory, observed, "Now I should be after likin' to see their arguments now that both man and wife have steel."

Rory glanced at him, "Och, nay, so they dinnae fight."

Shannon considered him, "Aye? And how is it that ye are knowin' this?"

"I just know."

Shannon stared at him a moment, then shook his head. "I hope, me darlin' man, that ye marry someday so ye can learn the truth of man and woman." Shannon shrugged, "Well, methinks I shall go not fight with me own wife now.. "

Rory smiled at his friend's retreating back.

Next: Mischief Afoot in Affynshire

New Stories: Shannon and heather Start to Unravel (Cut)

Remember this event. It will be meaningful in the future.

“Och, ‘tis a pretty little farm,” Shannon O’Neill remarked as he led his small son y the hand up the road to the house. “Look, Seamus, they have the tables and all set up over there in the field.. are ye hungry then?”

The little boy nodded and looked up at his mother. Heather smiled thinly and nodded. “Go on, Seamus.. but do not wander away.” The boy smiled happily, loosened his hand from his father’s hand tore off towards where several children were playing.

Shannon’s friend Rory McGuinness asked Heather, “Lass, ye seem tired from the walkin’. Would ye not like to sit for a while?”

Shannon responded for her, “Aye, ye two go find a shady spot to sit a while. I must find the uncle of the bride to see where and when ‘tis I shall be wanted.” He leaned to kiss his wife, who deftly swerved to avoid it. He shrugged, made a defeated look in Rory’s direction, and took off towards the big house.

Rory had learned long ago to stay out of these exchanges between husband and wife. He just knew Heather was unhappy about something and Shannon did not have a clue what it was. Come to think of it, that was how things went most days between them. He let her choose a place to sit and came to sit with her.

Heather was glancing around at the farm buildings visible from the spot, then over at the people starting to gather by the tables. “’Tis a bonny wee croft,” she remarked.

Rory nodded. “Is it much like your own in Ayrshire?”

Heather shook her head. “Nay, ‘tis bigger and much nicer.. me own was not in good repair, even after all the work Shannon did on it..” Her look turned nostalgic and sad.

Rory looked down at his feet. “Ye miss it.”

She sighed, “Aye, and I miss that Shannon I knew.” She turned away from him, and he knew he must let her sit in silence.

Heather’s and Rory’s relationship was fragile. He tried to be her friend, but she would not allow it. She saw him as Shannon’s ally, and, in spite of many opportunities to judge his worth, she always assumed he would color the truth to Shannon’s advantage. Further she was completely intolerant of his professed romantic love for the Queen. “”Tis childish and obstinate,” she told her husband.

Rory regretted Heather’s distrust of him. He knew Shannon better than anyone else and knew that Shannon, though meaning well, was a rather obtuse fellow when it came to how to treat his wife. She was difficult, but Shannon worsened not assuaged that characteristic in her. He was full of himself – wasn’t that part of his charm? And he tended to assume that anything he enjoyed so would others. His outgoing nature was also at odds with his wife’s shyness.

At length Heather remarked, “I might have known there would be no one of my acquaintance here..”

Rory looked about. “I see many from Cedric’s and Gitta’s..” he began.

Heather shot him a look. “Those are your friends, yours and Shan’s, not mine.”

Rory did not reply. He knew that while Heather complained of loneliness, she refused to join the gatherings at Cedric the master metalsmith’s large house. She alternately complained that the gatherings were to coarse and boisterous and that the metalsmith’s family were too grand for the likes of her. Shannon had given up trying to get her to come meet the other Celts, who would include Scots like herself, and he went anyway,. Leaving her back in their chambers at the castle, coming in late and sometimes drunk to a very angry wife.

Shannon came ambling up after a short time. He looked over and saw his son playing happily with a six year old girl and assorted boys, none of whom he recognized. He smiled over at the children. Then he looked at Heather and saw her expression. His resigned look spoke volumes in Rory’s mind. “I shan’t have to sing for some time, love. Shall we join the others and get something to eat and drink?” He reached for her arm, but she just stood and walked away from him towards the tables.

When she had given them some distance, Shannon asked his friend, “Did she offer ye any clues as to why she is vexed with me this time?”

Rory hesitated. He did not like getting involved in his friend’s marital strife. But he relented. “She does not know anyone.”

Shannon just raised one eyebrow and shook his head. For once he said nothing.

Later, as the feasting was well underway, Shannon gestured in the direction of the lead table with his cup of ale. “Och, look at that, the pity. Such a fine lookin’ young British lass marryin’ that great lummox of a Sassenach.”

Rory looked over at him amused. “Celtic ladies have been known to marry Saxons..” he commented, thinking of his beloved Queen.

Shannon replied, “I be just after sayin’ ‘tis a pity.”

Rory looked at the bride and groom. He was a strongly built fellow with long fair hair and bright blue eyes. He was smiling and festive, while the young girl at his side, who had brown hair done in braids, a beautifully embroidered bodice sat looking happy but uncomfortable. “Her name.. ‘tis Ceridwen, nay?”

“Shannon nodded, “Aye, Cedric’s niece, an orphan I hear. The man’s name I ken not.. something guttural and Saxon no doubt.

“She dinnae look like she much enjoys the festivities,” Rory remarked.

Heather interjected, “I do not blame her. These things always get out of hand.”

Cedric came up at that point and leaned to Shannon. “’Tis time, my friend.”

Shannon took a gulp of his ale and nodded. He slung his lute on his back and got up. This time he outsmarted his wife and managed a kiss on her cheek. “Cheer up, darlin’, it willnae go on forever.”

Shannon was not the only one to perform at the wedding feast but he was clearly the favorite. He sang and played several songs, some funny, some romantic, some ballads. One of the love songs he sang directly to the bride and groom, with his right foot up on a bench and the lute on his knee as he gazed into the bride’s eyes. She looked pleased but embarrassed.

Inevitably Shannon, warming to his theme, started to stroll among the guests. He flirted shamelessly. When he got to heather he flirted with her as well, but she would not look at him. She brushed away the kiss he landed on her cheek again.

They had to stay the night since the walk back to Lawrencium would take several hours and they were tired. Fortunately the house had plenty of room for the women. The m en and children slept out in the barn and stable. Seamus, who had developed a crush on the six year old girl he had been playing with, whose name was Hilda, found the whole thing to be a lark. Shannon was a bit tight and was asleep and snoring in no time. Rory lay back on the hay in the loft and laced his fingers behind his head. He lay with his eyes open, thinking of the Queen. Just before he dozed off he thought, “I could be happy in a place like this, so quiet and peaceful…”

Next: The Sword Challenge

Imahe: Heather, by Linda Laaksonen, about 1967.

New Stories: Queen of the Angles (Cut)

The Germanic peoples of Lincolnshire, at least before the Danes started to stream in in the late 9th century, were more likely to be Angles than Saxons. It's a terrible reason, I know, but "Saxon" just sounded smoother to me. Nevertheless, "Angles" worked better for Shannon's Song. The rhymes alone show why.

768

"Och, and are ye not the prettiest boy I have e'er seen?" laughed Shannon as he saw the Queen coming toward him, dressed in a shorter gown and leg wrappings. She had put her long hair into a knot as well, wanting to have as much freedom of movement for her sword lessons with Rory as possible.

Josephine smiled at him, but did not say anything, her eyes scanning the courtyard for her new teacher.

Shannon smiled, "He shall be here with ye momentarily, me lady. He did ask me to escort ye to the field of honor." He put out an elbow, but Josephine just started walking next to him to the area the King and knights used for swordplay.

Rory was already there, wearing a helm and a leather brigantine with metal sunbursts spaced all over it. The Queen could see he was testing the weight of some wooden swords. She had her own new sword sheathed at her side. "Well met, Rory," she called. "Are we not going to use real swords?"

Shannon had gone over the low fence that demarcated the fighting area and sat. "Och, me lady, if ye use real swords, ye might be cut, and I am thinkin' the King wouldnae be too pleased about that."

Josephine fool wed the comment with a counter suggestion. "Then what if you use a wooden sword, and I use my real sword?"

At Rory's look Shannon burst into laughter and almost fell over backward on the fence. "Nay, for ye might harm him! That it seems is his true purpose, I am thinkin'!"

Rory gave his friend an indulgent look. "Nay, beggin'' your pardon, me lady, but 'tis better to learn with a wooden sword first and master all the cuts and wards, then move on to lethal weapons. Believe me, we all learned this way, e'en the King I'll warrant."

Josephine accepted the explanation. "I can guess what a cut is, but what is a 'ward'?"

Rory came towards her, handed her a wooden sword and then took a firm stance. "A ward is the position ye take to be after gaugin' your opponent but not make yourself vulnerable to his blows. We shall work more with those when we add a shield." He gestured to his posture. "First, me lady, let us work on your stance. Try standin' as am I."

Josephine carefully examined how Rory was standing. She spread her feet for better stability then placed one slightly back and sideways. She bent forward at her hips and held her arms out and forward, the wooden sword in her right hand. Rory grinned. "Excellent, me lady!"

Rory came towards her. "I shall, if ye will forgive me, try to push you over." He saw her look of determination and proceeded. He moved to her side quickly and gave her a shove with both hands on her shoulder. She staggered sideways and almost fell. Shannon was back on his perch and smiling.

Rory said, "Now ye see what can happen. Ye must learn to stand even more stoutly. In many ways, a strong stance is the best defense.. and offense."

The Queen took another stance. "How is it an offensive advantage?"

Rory was looking at her feet and moving them with his own, tapping to indicate he wanted her to move slightly. "Ye must strive both to resist the force of the other man.. fighter, I am meanin'.. but also to be able to move quickly, either in offense or defense."

Josephine nodded. "I see."

Rory gave her a push again and this time she stumbled only slightly. "Much better. Much better. Keep practicing that, me lady."

"Now?" she asked.

"Now and forever," he answered.

Shannon had swung his lute off his back and was picking out a tune and some variations.

Rory proceeded to show the Queen several sword actions.

"A high cut, to split the skull" he stated and stood with his legs apart and his right arm straight up from his shoulder and the sword tip back. Josephine copied the stance. She mimicked the downward sweep of his arm.

Rory then moved his arm across his chest but still held the sword with the point up and back. "This cut is for hacking into the neck to remove the opponent's head." This time Josephine, her expression set firmly, followed Rory's slice forward and down, a backhanded blow.

"This one may be more difficult for ye, me lady, until ye develop the best stance." She watched as Rory pointed the sword straight at her midsection and lunged forward. "Ye can do damage from the shoulder to the thigh." Josephine followed suit.

Shannon spoke from where he was still composing a jaunty melody. "Show the Queen the cut that kills generations."

"Generations?" she inquired.

"Come over here, ye grand joker, so I can demonstrate on ye then," Rory laughed. Shannon reluctantly set down his lute and came over. He stood with his arms limp at his side, a long suffering look on his face. Rory laughed again, "Then mayhap in future ye shall keep your mouth shut." Rory let his sword hand drop, then stepped forward with the sword aimed right at Shannon's groin. "The low rising cut," he announced.

The Queen laughed. "I see… no more generations."

Rory nodded, and Shannon pretended to stagger away, his hands covering his groin. "Fé amae! Am trú-sa trá!"* he moaned. Then he went back to his melody.

Rory had the Queen practice the various cuts and jabs, first on an invisible opponent, then on a straw filled dummy hung from a crossbeam. She put all her energy into the moves, growing hot and sweaty, but making obvious progress. Rory was beaming at how fast she learned.

Shannon mostly concentrated on his composition, but he did look up from time to time to watch the Queen practice. When Rory suggested they break off and continue another day, Shannon observed, "Congratulations, your grace, ye can now kill a straw dummy."

Rory quipped, "Or Shannon."

Queen of the Angles

Fall 768

2

The King was not at all surprised at his wife's persistence in learning the use of a sword from the former Irish soldier. He knew her better than anyone, saving her own brother of course, and knew how seriously she took anything she saw as important. She was stubborn, yes, but it was a stubbornness born of commitment, not contrariness. He admired how she practiced every day that she could, and sometimes he observed her secretly.

Josephine had, with Rory's help and Shannon's wry encouragement, advanced quickly in steadying her stance and perfecting the various cuts and jabs she had learned. Now she was mastering holding a stout but not overheavy shield in different positions to test their usefulness in deflecting an opponent's blows.

As she waited for Rory and Shannon in the practice area one cool late October morning she examined the shield she was using. She could not say what it was about it, but the shield fascinated her. It was made of lime tree wood with an iron boss in the middle. Rory had explained that the protruding boss was itself a potential weapon, though its primary use was to hold a firm metal grip on the user's side. She held that grip now in her thickly gloved hand. She thought perhaps what caught her interest was the damage to this shield, the nicks and dents in the wood and even one good scrape on the boss. Had this shield been used only in practice, or might it have saved some soldier's life at some time. She did not know. She did not ask. She wanted to wonder.

She saw Rory and Shannon coming towards her, the latter carrying his constant companion, his lute. He had continued his composing, leaving to practice words to a song he was writing. She and Rory were going to have to wait to hear the song until it was done and he was satisfied, as was his custom. They knew it would be well worth the wait.

"Me lady, well met!" Rory cast his sunlit smile at her. "Today we will fight with shield and sword!"

Josephine greeted her friends and the news with excitement. "Aye?! " She hurried to pick up the wooden sword she had been using.

When she returned to face Rory, Shannon had already taken his accustomed place on the fence. He had been so much happier of late than when he and Heather lived in the castle. Their small cottage on the edge of town had smoothed so many of the sharp edges of their marriage. Josephine knew that nothing could smooth them all, Heather being Heather and Shannon being Shannon, but it was nice to see them smiling at each other and to hear Heather singing quietly to herself in Scots as she worked around her home and played with Seamus. The Queen hoped and prayed this contentment would last.

When the Queen had advanced well enough with the shield positions, she had been surprised when the next time Rory handed her a helm to put on. She had to redo her hair in a lower bun to allow it to settled firmly on her head. She found the thing quite uncomfortable, but she resolutely bore the discomfort. She knew as soon as she saw the helm that they had come to the point when Rory was going to provide her with real cuts to ward off. Her excitement was almost palpable.

And she was not disappointed. Although cautious at first, Rory soon challenged her with quick and difficult blows to deflect. She had taken many bruises to her arms and legs but had done all she could to ignore her husband's worried and sometimes reproachful looks. The one time he had remarked on a large bruise on her hip, she had recalled what he himself had said when in demonstrating sword against gallowglass he had cut Rory. She paraphrased those words, ""Aye.. that's what wooden swords do." He had stared, then, remembering, smiled and she had smiled back.

She was ready to move on today, anxious to learn new skills. Rory had donned his own sword and shield. "Now we are getting serious," Josephine thought to herself.

He had her review all the cuts she had learned, all the while holding the shield in place. Then he had her show him the various ways of holding the shield at different angles, inside, outside, high and low.. describing the pros and cons of each. He had her practice moving the shield as if she was warding of multiple blows. She was learning fast as she went through this catechism that coordinating sword and shield would be her greatest challenge to date.

"Now, me lady, your lesson on wards," Rory grinned. "Wards are your approach to an opponent and combines what ye have learned so far."

"And sure and I have no 'wards' to describe it," Shannon punned, not even looking up from his lute.

After showing her the high ward, which was just the high cut with the shield ready but out of the way, Rory went on to show her the ox ward, with the sword held over the head, almost parallel to the ground. "Like an ox horn," Rory explained.

"One very odd looking ox, methinks," came the inevitable response from Shannon.

The side ward was simply holding one's sword a-ready at one's side pointing either up or down and bending the opposite knee for a lunge.

"This is the plow ward," Rory explained, as he held his sword at waist height towards her with its tip raised.

"Why is it called that?" the Queen asked. So used were they to Shannon's running commentary, that Rory and she just turned and looked at him. He looked up from his lute, gazing at them from under his eyebrows with a mischievous smile on his lips. "Me lady, it is called that because once ye have seen someone comin' at ye like that, ye will drop your sword and go back to your plow." They rewarded him with a delighted laugh.

This demonstration and a short practice was just a prelude to the real excitement for Rory then announced, "Ye cannae learn wards just by posing in them, but only by practicing against an attacker."

He had Josephine take her stance, choosing her shield and sword position, and then placed himself facing her . "Try out wards to see which gives ye the best judgment as to how I might be after attackin' ye.. then tell me which felt best." He proceeded to make cuts, jabs and other moves, including feints, towards her.

She found her heart racing as they engaged. The energy flowing through her reminded her of how she felt when riding a galloping horse. Her color was high, her breathing rapid.

"Och, so much violence," Shannon sighed melodramatically, "I shall go commune with the Muse in private to heal me tattered soul." Rory rolled his eyes, but he smiled and nodded as his friend took his leave.

"I think he has been composing a song about all this," Josephine suggested. "Heaven help us."

Rory laughed.

Through the rest of this day's lesson and through many a day of practice after, the Queen tried numerous combinations of shield, sword, stance and motion, slowly developing an instinct for gauging Rory's intent and finding her own advantage. He added to her knowledge that outsmarting an opponent with a feint can open up vulnerable spots. She laughed, "Mayhap 'tis good Shannon is occupied.. I can just see him 'fainting' to demonstrate a 'feint'". If anything their time together strengthened her and Rory's lifelong friendship.

The Queen had been able to tell that quickly Rory was not holding back, and she appreciated this and knew he was carefully enhancing her real skill. She was certain Lawrence could never have let himself make any actual blows. Choosing Rory had been the right decision. Rory had the sense to know she would learn nothing otherwise, and then someday if she needed the new skills she developed, she would be placed in the way of harm. Rory was protecting her by teaching her well to protect herself.

One day near the Winter Solstice, the days quite short and the air cold and crisp, Rory announced. "Me lady, 'tis time to fight in earnest."

"With real swords?" she asked.

He gave her a humorous smile. "That will come, but for now 'twill not be a lesson, but a true battle. I shall not hold back, and me lady, nor should ye." He looked at her in all seriousness.

The Queen nodded, her breath already becoming quick. "Calm, calm, calm," she chanted to herself. She took her stance, shield inside and sword at side ward. Rory stood before her, gauging her stance as he himself held his shield low and his sword in ox ward. She made the first move.

Lunging forward, Josephine moved to jab at Rory under his shield. He deftly stepped aside and swung his sword forward and down. She raised her shield and caught the blow on it, pushing with it against his sword with all her strength. She thrust upward with her sword, trying to beat off Rory's own. He jumped back, and her sword cut nothing but the air between them. Instinctively, Josephine let the sword continue to go up, moving into a high ward and stepped forward to make a high cut. Rory raised his shield to defend his head, and Josephine completed the feint by stepping quickly to Rory's shield side and sweeping her sword down to the left to aim a blow at his exposed legs.

"Ho!" came the King's voice from behind and slightly to the right of the Queen. "Bravely done! Bravely done, my lady!"

Josephine dropped her sword to her side and turned to look at him amazed. "My lord, I did not know you were there!"

He glanced at Rory and made a gesture that said, "Be my guest" and before Josephine realized what it had meant, she found Rory's wooden sword coming down on the top of her helm, just hard enough to make a clang.

Lawrence walked up and putting his hands on his hips, he grinned at her.

"I know, I know, never turn your back on your enemy," she smiled.

He stood to attention and struck his chest with his fist in a sign of respect. "My lady, McGuinness told me you would be at your most impressive today. He was right."

Josephine looked at Rory, who had put down his sword and shield. "I wish you would have told me the King would be watching."

Rory smiled. "Nay, ye dinnae want to know.. 'twould have dampened your ferocity."

"Ferocity, 'tis just the word, I will warrant," Lawrence remarked. There was no mockery in his voice.

Josephine handed Rory her sword and shield, took off the helm, and handed it to him as well. She took her husband's arm and started walking with him towards the keep. "My lord, be honest. What do you think I must next work on? What are my weaknesses." She continued to pepper him with questions.

He answered as best he could. "I shall need to see you in more battles to say for certain, but I think I can give ye some tips." He was beaming,. He cast a happy look back at Rory, who bowed and looked satisfied.

Part 3

The Queen noticed how her royal gowns fit her differently now she had toned muscles in her arms and shoulders. The King seemed to like her this way. As the only man who saw her bare, he looked her over and nodded with approval. "This becomes you greatly, my love. Not the bruises, but they will fade."

She had settled into him as they stood and remarked, "I rather like it when you come to me bruised. It tells me you do not brook hesitation in your opponents." The comment had delighted him.

The evening of the day of the demonstration Rory had set up for the King, the feasting had been at least as merry as it have ever been. Josephine basked in the King's look of pride at her. It held something more as well, she thought, then realized that it was.. respect. The realization made her so happy she leaned and kissed him right in front of the entire court.

The royal couple was smiling and laughing with each other when Shannon appeared for his nightly songs and stories. All turned to listen.

"Sure and I have a special song for ye this night, me lords and ladies." He sat on the stool, one leg bent and the foot on one of the rungs, took his lute in his arms and strummed a few notes. Then he said, "This is for her grace the Queen."

He began to sing "Queen of the Angles".

Melody

"In some kingdoms I know the queens sit and sew And dream of their jewels and gold bangles, But in Linnis there be a sight ye should see, The sword-wielding Queen of the Angles!"

Josephine laughed and put her hands on her cheeks. She heard Lawrence laughing delightedly as well.

Shannon went on singing, softening his voice for lines referring to the Queen's beauty, but then shifting to a heroic tone when her fighting skill was described.

"Her stature is small but she gives it her all This sword-wielding Queen of the Angles. Her eyes blue and soft, 'til her sword is aloft And her enemy's shield wall she mangles!

"Her voice it is sweet, but bent on defeat, The enemy's war cry she strangles. She stands straight and square, with long golden hair, The sword-wielding Queen of the Angles.

"Warlords strong, stout and brave will she send to their grave, This sword-wielding Queen of the Angles. Their surrender demands while from one dainty hand Their very existence she dangles.

"With a weapon mysterious making foes quite delirious She leaves them with limbs all in tangles.. The fair lady I sing won the heart of a King She's the sword-wielding Queen of the Angles."

* Old Irish, "Woe indeed. I am a dead man for sure!"

Next: Shannon and Heather Start to Unravel

"Och, and are ye not the prettiest boy I have e'er seen?" laughed Shannon as he saw the Queen coming toward him, dressed in a shorter gown and leg wrappings. She had put her long hair into a knot as well, wanting to have as much freedom of movement for her sword lessons with Rory as possible.

Josephine smiled at him, but did not say anything, her eyes scanning the courtyard for her new teacher.

Shannon smiled, "He shall be here with ye momentarily, me lady. He did ask me to escort ye to the field of honor." He put out an elbow, but Josephine just started walking next to him to the area the King and knights used for swordplay.

Rory was already there, wearing a helm and a leather brigantine with metal sunbursts spaced all over it. The Queen could see he was testing the weight of some wooden swords. She had her own new sword sheathed at her side. "Well met, Rory," she called. "Are we not going to use real swords?"

Shannon had gone over the low fence that demarcated the fighting area and sat. "Och, me lady, if ye use real swords, ye might be cut, and I am thinkin' the King wouldnae be too pleased about that."

Josephine fool wed the comment with a counter suggestion. "Then what if you use a wooden sword, and I use my real sword?"

At Rory's look Shannon burst into laughter and almost fell over backward on the fence. "Nay, for ye might harm him! That it seems is his true purpose, I am thinkin'!"

Rory gave his friend an indulgent look. "Nay, beggin'' your pardon, me lady, but 'tis better to learn with a wooden sword first and master all the cuts and wards, then move on to lethal weapons. Believe me, we all learned this way, e'en the King I'll warrant."

Josephine accepted the explanation. "I can guess what a cut is, but what is a 'ward'?"

Rory came towards her, handed her a wooden sword and then took a firm stance. "A ward is the position ye take to be after gaugin' your opponent but not make yourself vulnerable to his blows. We shall work more with those when we add a shield." He gestured to his posture. "First, me lady, let us work on your stance. Try standin' as am I."

Josephine carefully examined how Rory was standing. She spread her feet for better stability then placed one slightly back and sideways. She bent forward at her hips and held her arms out and forward, the wooden sword in her right hand. Rory grinned. "Excellent, me lady!"

Rory came towards her. "I shall, if ye will forgive me, try to push you over." He saw her look of determination and proceeded. He moved to her side quickly and gave her a shove with both hands on her shoulder. She staggered sideways and almost fell. Shannon was back on his perch and smiling.

Rory said, "Now ye see what can happen. Ye must learn to stand even more stoutly. In many ways, a strong stance is the best defense.. and offense."

The Queen took another stance. "How is it an offensive advantage?"

Rory was looking at her feet and moving them with his own, tapping to indicate he wanted her to move slightly. "Ye must strive both to resist the force of the other man.. fighter, I am meanin'.. but also to be able to move quickly, either in offense or defense."

Josephine nodded. "I see."

Rory gave her a push again and this time she stumbled only slightly. "Much better. Much better. Keep practicing that, me lady."

"Now?" she asked.

"Now and forever," he answered.

Shannon had swung his lute off his back and was picking out a tune and some variations.

Rory proceeded to show the Queen several sword actions.

"A high cut, to split the skull" he stated and stood with his legs apart and his right arm straight up from his shoulder and the sword tip back. Josephine copied the stance. She mimicked the downward sweep of his arm.

Rory then moved his arm across his chest but still held the sword with the point up and back. "This cut is for hacking into the neck to remove the opponent's head." This time Josephine, her expression set firmly, followed Rory's slice forward and down, a backhanded blow.

"This one may be more difficult for ye, me lady, until ye develop the best stance." She watched as Rory pointed the sword straight at her midsection and lunged forward. "Ye can do damage from the shoulder to the thigh." Josephine followed suit.

Shannon spoke from where he was still composing a jaunty melody. "Show the Queen the cut that kills generations."

"Generations?" she inquired.

"Come over here, ye grand joker, so I can demonstrate on ye then," Rory laughed. Shannon reluctantly set down his lute and came over. He stood with his arms limp at his side, a long suffering look on his face. Rory laughed again, "Then mayhap in future ye shall keep your mouth shut." Rory let his sword hand drop, then stepped forward with the sword aimed right at Shannon's groin. "The low rising cut," he announced.

The Queen laughed. "I see… no more generations."

Rory nodded, and Shannon pretended to stagger away, his hands covering his groin. "Fé amae! Am trú-sa trá!"* he moaned. Then he went back to his melody.

Rory had the Queen practice the various cuts and jabs, first on an invisible opponent, then on a straw filled dummy hung from a crossbeam. She put all her energy into the moves, growing hot and sweaty, but making obvious progress. Rory was beaming at how fast she learned.

Shannon mostly concentrated on his composition, but he did look up from time to time to watch the Queen practice. When Rory suggested they break off and continue another day, Shannon observed, "Congratulations, your grace, ye can now kill a straw dummy."

Rory quipped, "Or Shannon."


The King was not at all surprised at his wife's persistence in learning the use of a sword from the former Irish soldier. He knew her better than anyone, saving her own brother of course, and knew how seriously she took anything she saw as important. She was stubborn, yes, but it was a stubbornness born of commitment, not contrariness. He admired how she practiced every day that she could, and sometimes he observed her secretly.

Josephine had, with Rory's help and Shannon's wry encouragement, advanced quickly in steadying her stance and perfecting the various cuts and jabs she had learned. Now she was mastering holding a stout but not overheavy shield in different positions to test their usefulness in deflecting an opponent's blows.

As she waited for Rory and Shannon in the practice area one cool late October morning she examined the shield she was using. She could not say what it was about it, but the shield fascinated her. It was made of lime tree wood with an iron boss in the middle. Rory had explained that the protruding boss was itself a potential weapon, though its primary use was to hold a firm metal grip on the user's side. She held that grip now in her thickly gloved hand. She thought perhaps what caught her interest was the damage to this shield, the nicks and dents in the wood and even one good scrape on the boss. Had this shield been used only in practice, or might it have saved some soldier's life at some time. She did not know. She did not ask. She wanted to wonder.

She saw Rory and Shannon coming towards her, the latter carrying his constant companion, his lute. He had continued his composing, leaving to practice words to a song he was writing. She and Rory were going to have to wait to hear the song until it was done and he was satisfied, as was his custom. They knew it would be well worth the wait.

"Me lady, well met!" Rory cast his sunlit smile at her. "Today we will fight with shield and sword!"

Josephine greeted her friends and the news with excitement. "Aye?! " She hurried to pick up the wooden sword she had been using.

When she returned to face Rory, Shannon had already taken his accustomed place on the fence. He had been so much happier of late than when he and Heather lived in the castle. Their small cottage on the edge of town had smoothed so many of the sharp edges of their marriage. Josephine knew that nothing could smooth them all, Heather being Heather and Shannon being Shannon, but it was nice to see them smiling at each other and to hear Heather singing quietly to herself in Scots as she worked around her home and played with Seamus. The Queen hoped and prayed this contentment would last.

When the Queen had advanced well enough with the shield positions, she had been surprised when the next time Rory handed her a helm to put on. She had to redo her hair in a lower bun to allow it to settled firmly on her head. She found the thing quite uncomfortable, but she resolutely bore the discomfort. She knew as soon as she saw the helm that they had come to the point when Rory was going to provide her with real cuts to ward off. Her excitement was almost palpable.

And she was not disappointed. Although cautious at first, Rory soon challenged her with quick and difficult blows to deflect. She had taken many bruises to her arms and legs but had done all she could to ignore her husband's worried and sometimes reproachful looks. The one time he had remarked on a large bruise on her hip, she had recalled what he himself had said when in demonstrating sword against gallowglass he had cut Rory. She paraphrased those words, ""Aye.. that's what wooden swords do." He had stared, then, remembering, smiled and she had smiled back.

She was ready to move on today, anxious to learn new skills. Rory had donned his own sword and shield. "Now we are getting serious," Josephine thought to herself.

He had her review all the cuts she had learned, all the while holding the shield in place. Then he had her show him the various ways of holding the shield at different angles, inside, outside, high and low.. describing the pros and cons of each. He had her practice moving the shield as if she was warding of multiple blows. She was learning fast as she went through this catechism that coordinating sword and shield would be her greatest challenge to date.

"Now, me lady, your lesson on wards," Rory grinned. "Wards are your approach to an opponent and combines what ye have learned so far."

"And sure and I have no 'wards' to describe it," Shannon punned, not even looking up from his lute.

After showing her the high ward, which was just the high cut with the shield ready but out of the way, Rory went on to show her the ox ward, with the sword held over the head, almost parallel to the ground. "Like an ox horn," Rory explained.

"One very odd looking ox, methinks," came the inevitable response from Shannon.

The side ward was simply holding one's sword a-ready at one's side pointing either up or down and bending the opposite knee for a lunge.

"This is the plow ward," Rory explained, as he held his sword at waist height towards her with its tip raised.

"Why is it called that?" the Queen asked. So used were they to Shannon's running commentary, that Rory and she just turned and looked at him. He looked up from his lute, gazing at them from under his eyebrows with a mischievous smile on his lips. "Me lady, it is called that because once ye have seen someone comin' at ye like that, ye will drop your sword and go back to your plow." They rewarded him with a delighted laugh.

This demonstration and a short practice was just a prelude to the real excitement for Rory then announced, "Ye cannae learn wards just by posing in them, but only by practicing against an attacker."

He had Josephine take her stance, choosing her shield and sword position, and then placed himself facing her . "Try out wards to see which gives ye the best judgment as to how I might be after attackin' ye.. then tell me which felt best." He proceeded to make cuts, jabs and other moves, including feints, towards her.

She found her heart racing as they engaged. The energy flowing through her reminded her of how she felt when riding a galloping horse. Her color was high, her breathing rapid.

"Och, so much violence," Shannon sighed melodramatically, "I shall go commune with the Muse in private to heal me tattered soul." Rory rolled his eyes, but he smiled and nodded as his friend took his leave.

"I think he has been composing a song about all this," Josephine suggested. "Heaven help us."

Rory laughed.

Through the rest of this day's lesson and through many a day of practice after, the Queen tried numerous combinations of shield, sword, stance and motion, slowly developing an instinct for gauging Rory's intent and finding her own advantage. He added to her knowledge that outsmarting an opponent with a feint can open up vulnerable spots. She laughed, "Mayhap 'tis good Shannon is occupied.. I can just see him 'fainting' to demonstrate a 'feint'". If anything their time together strengthened her and Rory's lifelong friendship.

The Queen had been able to tell that quickly Rory was not holding back, and she appreciated this and knew he was carefully enhancing her real skill. She was certain Lawrence could never have let himself make any actual blows. Choosing Rory had been the right decision. Rory had the sense to know she would learn nothing otherwise, and then someday if she needed the new skills she developed, she would be placed in the way of harm. Rory was protecting her by teaching her well to protect herself.

One day near the Winter Solstice, the days quite short and the air cold and crisp, Rory announced. "Me lady, 'tis time to fight in earnest."

"With real swords?" she asked.

He gave her a humorous smile. "That will come, but for now 'twill not be a lesson, but a true battle. I shall not hold back, and me lady, nor should ye." He looked at her in all seriousness.

The Queen nodded, her breath already becoming quick. "Calm, calm, calm," she chanted to herself. She took her stance, shield inside and sword at side ward. Rory stood before her, gauging her stance as he himself held his shield low and his sword in ox ward. She made the first move.

Lunging forward, Josephine moved to jab at Rory under his shield. He deftly stepped aside and swung his sword forward and down. She raised her shield and caught the blow on it, pushing with it against his sword with all her strength. She thrust upward with her sword, trying to beat off Rory's own. He jumped back, and her sword cut nothing but the air between them. Instinctively, Josephine let the sword continue to go up, moving into a high ward and stepped forward to make a high cut. Rory raised his shield to defend his head, and Josephine completed the feint by stepping quickly to Rory's shield side and sweeping her sword down to the left to aim a blow at his exposed legs.

"Ho!" came the King's voice from behind and slightly to the right of the Queen. "Bravely done! Bravely done, my lady!"

Josephine dropped her sword to her side and turned to look at him amazed. "My lord, I did not know you were there!"

He glanced at Rory and made a gesture that said, "Be my guest" and before Josephine realized what it had meant, she found Rory's wooden sword coming down on the top of her helm, just hard enough to make a clang.

Lawrence walked up and putting his hands on his hips, he grinned at her.

"I know, I know, never turn your back on your enemy," she smiled.

He stood to attention and struck his chest with his fist in a sign of respect. "My lady, McGuinness told me you would be at your most impressive today. He was right."

Josephine looked at Rory, who had put down his sword and shield. "I wish you would have told me the King would be watching."

Rory smiled. "Nay, ye dinnae want to know.. 'twould have dampened your ferocity."

"Ferocity, 'tis just the word, I will warrant," Lawrence remarked. There was no mockery in his voice.

Josephine handed Rory her sword and shield, took off the helm, and handed it to him as well. She took her husband's arm and started walking with him towards the keep. "My lord, be honest. What do you think I must next work on? What are my weaknesses." She continued to pepper him with questions.

He answered as best he could. "I shall need to see you in more battles to say for certain, but I think I can give ye some tips." He was beaming,. He cast a happy look back at Rory, who bowed and looked satisfied.

Part 3

The Queen noticed how her royal gowns fit her differently now she had toned muscles in her arms and shoulders. The King seemed to like her this way. As the only man who saw her bare, he looked her over and nodded with approval. "This becomes you greatly, my love. Not the bruises, but they will fade."

She had settled into him as they stood and remarked, "I rather like it when you come to me bruised. It tells me you do not brook hesitation in your opponents." The comment had delighted him.

The evening of the day of the demonstration Rory had set up for the King, the feasting had been at least as merry as it have ever been. Josephine basked in the King's look of pride at her. It held something more as well, she thought, then realized that it was.. respect. The realization made her so happy she leaned and kissed him right in front of the entire court.

The royal couple was smiling and laughing with each other when Shannon appeared for his nightly songs and stories. All turned to listen.

"Sure and I have a special song for ye this night, me lords and ladies." He sat on the stool, one leg bent and the foot on one of the rungs, took his lute in his arms and strummed a few notes. Then he said, "This is for her grace the Queen."

He began to sing "Queen of the Angles".

"In some kingdoms I know the queens sit and sew And dream of their jewels and gold bangles, But in Linnis there be a sight ye should see, The sword-wielding Queen of the Angles!"

Josephine laughed and put her hands on her cheeks. She heard Lawrence laughing delightedly as well.

Shannon went on singing, softening his voice for lines referring to the Queen's beauty, but then shifting to a heroic tone when her fighting skill was described.

"Her stature is small but she gives it her all This sword-wielding Queen of the Angles. Her eyes blue and soft, 'til her sword is aloft And her enemy's shield wall she mangles!

"Her voice it is sweet, but bent on defeat, The enemy's war cry she strangles. She stands straight and square, with long golden hair, The sword-wielding Queen of the Angles.

"Warlords strong, stout and brave will she send to their grave, This sword-wielding Queen of the Angles. Their surrender demands while from one dainty hand Their very existence she dangles.

"With a weapon mysterious making foes quite delirious She leaves them with limbs all in tangles.. The fair lady I sing won the heart of a King She's the sword-wielding Queen of the Angles."

* Old Irish, "Woe indeed. I am a dead man for sure!"

Next: Shannon and Heather Start to Unravel

New Stories: Jo and the Sword (Cut)

The Queen found the chamber empty as she entered. It seemed the King had stepped out of his council room. She came in to wait for him, wanting to discuss the boy Osric.

Her eyes settled on the long gleaming object on a chest along one wall. It was the King's sword, "My Honour". She stared at it speculatively. Then she stepped over and reached for the hilt, part of one long triple forged piece, the whole of it made of iron that was folded over and over and threaded with steel to make it strong. Her fingers went around the leather thongs that had been wrapped to make a grip. She knew from having held the weapon before that it was heavy, so she added her left hand to her right and gripped and lifted.

It was heavier even than she had remembered. Perhaps, she thought, it was because now she was testing it to see if she could herself wield it. As she stepped back away with it from the chest where it had been resting she found she had to struggle to keep the tip level, no less raised. It angled down from the hilt, but she steadied herself, took a deep breath, and lifted it so that the tip was higher than the top of her head. She let it go up and back further, then swept the blade down in an arc, almost upsetting her balance, but she managed to slow it and stop it, then raise it again for a second sweep.

She was concentrating so hard that she did not see Lawrence in the doorway. "I yield, sir knight!" he called with humor in his voice. She looked at him and frowned. He was standing with his hands slightly raised, laughing at her. She realized she was facing him, that he was reacting to the face off. She made herself smile.

"It is heavier than I recall from the last time I held it." She continued to heft it, trying for a better grip on the hilt.

Lawrence came around behind her. He put his arms around and put his own hands over hers on the sword. She instantly felt the lessening of the weapon's weight. He murmured in her ear, "I did not know you wanted to learn to use a sword. Let me show you." He proceeded to move the sword, still in her hands, in arcs, adding jabs, parries and other moves. She could feel the movement of the muscles of his arms as he demonstrated how the sword should be moved. She could also feel his chest muscles harden and relax, and his belly against her back. The feeling was intoxicating against her body.

When he breathed against her ear she said, "Please, Lawrence, let us stop!"

She almost dropped the sword when he loosed his grip. He deftly took it, and stood with it held in one hand. He looked at her with concern. "Are you hurt?"

Still a little breathless, she shook her head, but took one wrist between the fingers of her other hand and massaged it. "You are! Just a moment." Lawrence stepped over and returned My Honour to its former resting place, then he stepped back to her and took her wrists in his hands. He felt them with his fingers and thumbs. He looked into her eyes.

"I am all right, Lawrence," she said firmly.

The King let go of her wrists and stood back. He gazed at her, his look guarded. He waited for her to speak.

"Why are they so heavy?" Josephine asked, peevishly. She looked evenly into his face.

"They have to be. If they are not, they do little damage," he explained. "Or they break."

"But is it not stabbing, or hacking with the sharp blade, that is what they are most used for?" she asked.

Lawrence answered without a trace of mockery, "That is how you finish an opponent off. If you have not already crushed his skull. But the first part of fighting is trying to knock his own sword or other weapon out of his hands and to break bones. That is partially why they are so heavy.. and because the are forged of so much iron. You don't want your sword to break when the other man's sword hits the blade. You do want his to."

He considered her. "Do you want to learn to use weapons?"

She turned and walked idly over to the work table in the chamber. She let her fingertips glide on its surface as she passed. "I did once, I was taught to use the bow." She was not looking at Lawrence, so she did not see his silent nod. "But I should like to be able to defend myself. I would like to learn to use other weapons.. like the sword." She turned to look at him, and to her pleased surprise he was looking thoughtful rather than discouraging.

"Hmm…" he began. He had his index finger on his right hand crooked and pressed under his lower lip, the elbow of that arm cupped in his left palm which was against his chest. He looked at her and asked, "Would you come with me,.my lady, to talk to our weapons master?"

"Uthred?" she asked, her eyes round. He nodded and reached for her hand. She took it and let him lead her out of the keep and to the squat stone building where the weapons were kept and the master worked.

Uthred was not a tall man, but he was powerfully built. His Saxon heritage was unmistakable, the fair hair, the vlue eyes. He greeted the King and his wife with a bow more graceful than such a brawny man should be able to effect, but Josephine thought, "Well, of course, he is a swordsman. They must be very graceful."

"Uthred, the Queen wishes to develop some weapons skills. What can you advise?" the King said, his voice communicating that this was a serious matter. Uthred did not dissemble.

The man stood and considered her. He came to her and, with a glance at the King who responded with a nod, he took her hands in his. She felt how rough they were against her own skin. He turned them over, felt her wrists and forearms, then he pulled them out to their full length stepping back himself. Then he kept her left arm outstretched, pulled it to her side. The action made her right arm come across her own chest in the attitude of an archer.

Uthred asked, "Did my lady have a weapon in mind?"

She looked at him frankly. "A sword."

He raised his eyebrows, looking doubtful. He still held her hands, although he had stepped back in front of her. He looked at her wrists again. "I do not know.. mayhap with a leather brace…"

Lawrence explained, "He means for your wrists.. yours are too…" He reconsidered the word "delicate" and instead said, "slender. The weight of a sword would sprain or break your wrist.. either when you swung it back or when you struck your opponent."

"Sire," Uthred put in, "I do not think my lady could heft a sword in battle even with the braces."

Lawrence nodded. "That is what I was also thinking."

"Can I not strengthen my wrists?" the Queen appealed. "Or could I not carry a lighter sword?"

Both men shook their heads at once. Uthred said, "The wrists, perhaps, but not a lighter sword.. It would be useless, hardly more than an ornament. It would break."

Josephine was dismayed. Was her plan to gain weapon skills to be blocked? She had no reason to believe that Uthred was in league with the King to prevent her. She cast down her eyes.

"But, my lady, there are many other weapons." She looked up at Uthred hopefully.

The weapons master looked over at Lawrence. "A seax?" he inquired.

Lawrence nodded thoughtfully. He went over to where many large knices were resting in racks on the wall. He traced his hand over several in a row and settled on a large knife with a stag horm handle. He took it and brought it to his wife and offered it to her to take. "What about this?"

Josephine took the hefty weapon. The seax was the preferred hand weapon of warriors all over Northern Europe. In the future it would be designated a "migration weapon" meaning that it had traveled with the many migrating tribes of warriors and their clans across Europe to the north and west and over the Channel to Britain in the hands of the Saxons the Britons hired to fight the Picts and then had had their own land taken by. The seax was similar to a hunting knife.. sharp, the blade on one side of the shaft, long, broad, and bearing a horn or bone handle. It was no mean knife. Josephine took it and turned it over in her hands. It wasn't a sword, but it was almost as frightening looking.

The Queen looked up at the two men. "But if I am attacked by a man with a sword, can I defend myself with this?"

She had to stifle a flash of anger as Uthred gave the King a dismayed look and Lawrence himself let out a short laugh. He saw her look and hurried to apologize. "My darling, I am sorry.. I did not mean to laugh at you. It is just that if you are attacked by a man with a sword.. as unlikely as that scenario is to come to pass, well.. then.. you would be dead."

"Why?" she asked.

Uthred tried to soften the approach. "The only thing besides another sword that you can defend against a sword is a spear or axe."

Lawrence suddenly said, "Wait here," and left the little building. Josephine watched as Uthred looked at some spears leaning in a corner. By the time Lawrence had come back with Rory McGuinness, the latter looking mystified, Uthred had selected a spear and stood with it before her.

Rory stood just inside the doorway looking at the Queen. "Fine weapon ye have there, me lady," he said, nodding to the seax which she still had in her hand. He drew his own dagger, which was less prepossessing by comparison, but nevertheless a stout blade itself. Josephine smiled to herself at having the larger hand knife.

Lawrence was scanning the racks of weapons. "McGuinness is the axe man here.. the gallowglass, is that right?"

Rory bowed slightly, "Aye, sire, that was me weapon in the service of the Ui Neill - the Chieftain O'Neill, I am meanin'."

Josephine asked him, "And did you not also use a sword, Rory?"

He nodded, "Aye, that I did, me lady."

Lawrence said without looking around, "Her majesty wishes to learn to use a sword,." Josephine could detect no judgment one way or another in his voice. She knew she was expecting some sort of opposition from him, but so far he seemed at least to be open. That is, if he was not just humoring her. That was certainly not out of the question.

Rory shook his head, "Och, nay, me lady.. 'twould be too heavy for ye."

Josephine pressed her lips tightly together, disappointed. She did not say anything.. Whatever Lawrence might say or do to try to dissuade her, she knew Rory was as straight as an arrow.

"The bow! What about the bow! I have already had some training with that," she spoke up hopefully.

Lawrence had come back carrying a very long shafted axe. The flaring metal blade was not overlarge. He handed it to his Queen. "Definitely the bow. With your sharp eye, you will be a fine archer. And you could hunt with me as well.. I should like that. If you wish, that is." He watched as she tested the weight of the gallowglass. "But it would not be much use in close fighting."

Josephine began to realize that Lawrence was not at all playing with her. He was being as straight as Rory. He wanted her to learn to defend herself. She looked at him with new eyes.

Rory put in, "I dinnae know if this weapon will be of use, me lord, for it is difficult with all its weight at the far end."

Lawrence said, "Let's go into the courtyard and try it out."

The three men and the woman passed out of the armory into the courtyard. There were curious eyes all around them. Lawrence told Rory to take the gallowglass and demonstrate it.

When the minstrel had it in his hands, Josephine admired him. His eyes changed, he lost some of his mildness, and she even saw a gleam there. So he was a soldier, it showed. He put his hands on the weapon much like a man uses a quarterstaff. He took a solid stance and brought the axe up and swung it in a wide arc. She heard the whoosh of air as the blade cut through it. "Will ye try it now, me lady?"

Josephine stepped up and took the weapon, placing her hands where she had seen Rory place his and her feet in the stance he had used. A crowd had gathered now, and she heard their murmuring. She gritted her teeth, determined to show she could manage the weapon, and mimicked the swing he had just performed. The crowd's cheers informed her of her success. Then she saw Lawrence's admiring look and her heart danced.

Rory stepped forward and asked Uthred for a sword. "Now let's be after tryin' somethin' else." Uthred gave Rory his own sword from the scabbard at his belt.

Rory came over to her and said, "That was grand, me lady. Ye have a strong stance. Now I want ye to face me and try what ye can to disarm me."

Josephine nodded. She went back to the stance she had used before. Rory backed away and got into an offensive stance of his own. He held the sword aloft, balancing himself with his other arm, and starting to advance.

"Rory!" the Queen hesitated. "I might hurt you!"

"Dinnae worry, me lady.. I can manage." She did not see the exchanged smiles between Uthred and Lawrence.

Rory advanced and Josephine swung the gallowglass at his sword, which Rory deftly pulled away. He then stepped forward quickly as the long handled axe was no longer between them. She saw that he could then defeat her if it was his design.

Lawrence called, "Let me try," he said. He took the gallowglass from Josephine and she stepped back to watch. Rory advanced on him now, and Josephine saw the gleam now in both men's eyes. As Rory came forward, Lawrence did not swing the axe but thrust it towards the Irishman, hooked the sword handle with the curve of the axe and pulled. The sword came free of Rory's hand. He grasped that hand where it had been cut and was bleeding, but neither he nor Lawrence seemed the least bit concerned. Josephine went to Rory and took his hand. "Lawrence, you cut him!"

Lawrence replied matter of factly, "Aye.. that's what blades do."

Rory said gently, "Dinnae trouble yourself, me lady, 'tis but a scratch."

Josephine stepped back and considered the men. "I see," she said.

Lawrence stood smiling broadly at her, his hands on his hips. "So what is it to be? The seax? A spear? The axe?"

She looked from each of the three faces to the others. "Who will teach me?"

Lawrence answered, "If it is the gallowglass, then McGuinness is the man to instruct you best."

Rory smiled modestly, "And if ye want to learn to use the seax or a dagger, then I can teach ye, but the King is the master there.. as well as with the bow. No one can match him."

Uthred offered, "I shall be at your pleasure, my Queen, for any weapon."

Lawrence said, "Or someone else, if you prefer. Percy. One of the other knights."

Josephine looked around at them. "I thank you, good sirs. I shall give it some thought and let you know my choice."

Walking back arm in arm into the keep, leaving Rory to help Uthred put the weapons away, Josephine noticed that her husband was smiling contentedly. "Lawrence, I thought you would be against my learning to use a weapon."

He looked at her and smiled, "Nay, it should give me much comfort if you learn to protect yourself.. how I wish you could have in that… other time.." He let his voice trail off unhappily.

Josephine put in, "And so you think I can? Learn to use them well, I mean?"

The King stopped and faced her, putting a palm to her cheek. "Aye, my lady, I think you have the heart of a warrior."

Next: Queen of the Angles

New Stories: After the Child Beating Incident (Cut)

osephine realized Rory had fallen into step with her as she made her way to the King's council chamber. "Oh! Rory! Good, I am glad you are coming."

He stopped her a moment by putting a hand on her arm. "My lady… Jo.. that was.. that brave of ye…" His use of her name eloquently communicated his emotion.

She looked at him, but her attention was caught by his words and she looked inside herself. She felt pride to have his approbation. Then she said, "Oh dear. Lawrence is not going to like this."

Rory's sympathetic look showed her he knew what she was thinking.

The Queen firmed her resolve, setting her jaw and said, "Well let us go to him and find out."

She and Rory found the King with Lorin in discussion over some administrative matter. Lawrence looked up at his wife as she entered and smiled his welcome. "Ah, you are back. I hope you had a successful quest into the town." He went to her, took her hand and kissed it. "Did you run into my lady there, McGuinness?" he addressed to Rory.

"Aye.. well.. " Rory began.

"Lawrence darling, I need to talk to you about something.. do you have time now?" Josephine broke in as Rory's reply did not go on.

Lorin started to gather papers as if to leave. "No, my brother, if you can stay, I should like you to," the Queen asked.

Her brother left off gathering his work and nodded. "With pleasure, my lady" he said simply.

Josephine looked about. "Can we all sit then? Aye, you as well, Rory." He and Lorin hurried to pull a chair out for her. Lawrence gestured to one by him and Josephine took it. The three men then sat.

Josephine took a breath. "While I was in the town today I learned something most distressing." She tried to keep her focus on what she had to say and not let Lawrence's sudden protective look detour her. "I saw a man who had beaten his child taken away by our guard, Pendra…" She noted Lawrence's start. "But what disturbed me even more was after, when I spoke with Goodwife Branna who had taken the child under her care. She told me that it was likely that when the father came to judgment he would just be sent home to do to his family what he wanted. She said that it was unlikely he would be punished greatly, even if he killed the child in the future… "

Lawrence looked sharply at Lorin. "Is this true? A man may kill his child and be allowed to walk free?"

Lorin's face was grieved. "At this time, sire, aye.. depending on the judge. I have worked for reform of the penal laws in this regard, but the Church has blocked me.."

"Blocked you? The Church? Why?" Josephine reacted incredulously

"My lady," her brother replied, "they fear that should the civil authority interfere in family dominion, that 'tis usurping the man's place as the head of the home." He shook his head. "If we interfere with how men treat their children, the bishop said, we will next try to tell them how to manage their wives. I believe the scripture he quoted was 'The wife hath not power of her own body, but the husband.'"

To everyone's surprise, Rory spoke in response. "Aye, your Grace, but that is but half of the word the saint was after sayin'. He finished by sayin' 'twas the same for the man. He hath no power of his own body, but the wife."

Lawrence frowned,. "In my experience, churchmen choose whatever they want to support what they say is 'God's will'." The others waited for him to speak again. He looked at Josephine, reached a tender hand and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. Well, in this Kingdom that interpretation shall not stand." He looked at Lorin. "Your Grace, please ask the bishop to attend me here after morning mass."

Josephine put her hand on his arm lovingly. "Thank you, my lord." She thought a moment, then went on, "I am concerned for the child.. I would like him brought to stay at the castle."

Lawrence looked at Lorin questioningly. The Chancellor hesitated. "Does the child have a mother, my lady?" he asked his sister.

Josephine looked to Rory, who replied, "Nay, I believe she is dead. Giving birth to a younger bairn. The boy's name is Osric, me lady."

Lorin nodded. "Then I should think he can be brought here, this young fellow." His sister smiled.

Lawrence called for a servant whom he ordered to fetch Pendra. He noted with curiosity the quick look that his wife and the Irishman exchanged. He gazed at them uncertainly. "My lady, is there something I should know about Pendra's actions in all this?"

Josephine looked back at him frankly. "Aye, my lord. That is, he has more to say. For he will tell you how I came to know of this situation." She did not turn aside her gaze. "I heard a struggle and went with all the rest to see what passed. 'Twas Shannon O'Neill who had interfered with the father's brutal treatment of the child. The father attacked Shannon. The man is large, so You can imagine 'twas not going well for our friend." She glanced briefly at Rory, then went on resolutely. "'Twas shocking to me that no one went to his defense. In sooth, I believe some of the people were.. enjoying.. the spectacle."

Rory nodded and observed, "'Tis always thus."

The Queen gave Rory a despairing look. "Nay! It cannot be!" But he just nodded again, sadly.

"How is O'Neill? Was he badly hurt?" the King inquired.

Rory answered, "He looks worse than the injuries signify, me lord. He is receivin' the lovin' care of his wife."

Nodding, Lawrence urged, "And so how did it come about that the man was taken into custody?"

His wife looked back into his eyes. She spoke forthrightly, ""I grabbed a dagger from the belt of a man near me and threatened the man with it."

"You did what?" the King cried. He shot a look at Rory. "And I suppose you just stood by and let her do this?!"

Josephine went to her friend's defense before he could answer, "My lord, Rory was not there. He came moments later." She kept her voice calm and even.

Just then there was a rap at the door and the guard Pendra entered and bowed. The King shouted at him, "So, sir, I hear you stood idly by while the Queen put herself in mortal danger!" He glared at the man, who flinched.

"My.. my lord, I did not have time to intercept the dagger and prevent her.." The man was looking miserably at his own feet.

"And was not my order that you keep an eye on her at all times?"

Josephine looked up at her husband surprised. Then she smiled slightly, and thought to herself "I should have known my lord would have his eye on me in one way or another." She gave him a loving smile.

Rory twisted the cap he was holding in his hands and ventured, "My lord, if I may be after sayin' a thing or two about this.."

"Aye?" the King lowered a steely glare at the man.

Rory cleared his throat. "The Queen was ne'er in any danger. The crowd made sure the man knew who she was. He knew better than to lay a finger on her."

Lawrence's glare was unabated. "Aye, but did she act knowing this 'fact'?"

Lorin spoke up. "He is no doubt quite right, my liege. She is much beloved of the people. I do not believe they should have let her come to any harm, and that is, begging your leave, sire, what signifies, is it not?" As Lawrence's glare shifted to his Chancellor's face, Josephine smiled encouragingly at Rory.

Lorin went on. "Methinks her attendance to the market and such shall merely strengthen that love and regard. Barring pure accident, my sister is unlikely come to harm in the town, most certainly not more than she could come to harm crossing this castle's very courtyard. And it appears that her observations and judgment may in fact be of singular value to you, my lord."

The King glanced briefly at the Queen, then looked back at her brother. "Aye? And how is that?" His voice still was filled with his anger.

Lorin raised one eyebrow., "My liege, the people never talk to you. Or to me, in truth. They either speak to us what they want us to know or what they deem Is what we want to hear. Is that not true, sire?" Lawrence did not reply, so the Duke went on, "But my sister's keen intelligence and discriminating assessment of what she sees shall only be enriched by the trust she will quickly garner.." He smiled fondly at Josephine. "We shall, sire, gain unprecedented knowledge of them, what they need, and what they are thinking."

Everyone turned to look at the King, waiting for his reaction to this. He glared back at Lorin for some time. Then his face relaxed some. He nodded briskly.

"We shall speak of this and of the disposition of the prisoner anon," he said sternly to Pendra, who bowed and gratefully was dismissed.

The King then glanced at Rory. "My lady may not like this, Irishman, but I command you to accompany her any time she goes outside the castle walls." At Rory's firm nod, Lawrence gave him leave to depart as well. Rory glanced apologetically at the Queen, but she was not looking at him. He bowed in turn to the three royals and left to check on Shannon's wounds.

Lawrence did not look at the Chancellor but simply said, "Your Grace, we can finish our previous business later.. in the meantime, I want you to look into the laws as they stand that touch upon a man's control over his family and to bring the bishop to me, as I ordered. You may leave us."

Lawrence was looking at his wife, who of course understood he wanted her to stay. "I should like to speak to you, my lady," he said in a dry voice.

Once Lorin had left the chamber, the King sat back and regarded the Queen. She looked back at him mildly.

"My lady, it distresses me greatly to hear that you put yourself at such risk in the town. Do you have no care for the fear that puts into me?"

Josephine was surprised at his question.. his past reactions had always been to tell her she did not know the danger of a situation or action. This was the first time he had gone straight to her responsibility to think of himself. She rose from her chair and stood at his side, looking down into his face, her hands on his shoulder.

"I do care my Lord", she answered him. "More than you know. Have I not myself sat here many months wondering if you will return to me from war? But should I ask you to lay down your sword and let others fight your battles in order that I may not fear losing you?"

She let this thought sink in a little before continuing, "I am glad you sent that man Pendra to watch me. But if you protect me from every possible danger, my life shall not be worth living. In fact, I have come to feel lately that if I must continue to live so closely guarded here, I will die of it!"

Lawrence's eyes searched her face. He said in a gentle voice, "My darling, mayhap now 'tis you who are overstating the danger? Is your judgment not clouded by this strength of feeling?" He put his hand on one of hers and his gaze was filled with concern.

"It may be, yet I must be the only judge of what I may do..."

Lawrence looked down. "Your brother certainly believes you are as safe as can be hoped in the town. I suppose I must surrender to the two of you on this. But I must be allowed to think upon this ere I do. Do please grant me that, my lady."

Josephine then laughed, leaning to put her arms around his neck and her cheek on the top of his head. "Oh Lawrence, I love you so. " She leaned further to look into his face. He looked back at her. She kissed him lovingly and they said no more about the matter for the moment.

Not long after however she happened to catch from the corner of her eye his appraising look. It said "Did you really do that?" And there was a barely perceptible smile on his lips.

Next: Josephine and the Sword