New Stories: Breach! (Happened)

ith the success of filling the pitfalls along a stretch of the fortification of Ratherwood, the men who had rolled the logs and pushed the dirt and debris into the traps reached for another weapon they had brought with them within bowshot of the enemy. Hooked spears, not unlike shepherd’s crooks with an embedded blade, did double duty this day.

Under the sow men stabbed into the wall and pulled. Along the river the ground was yielding. The blades tore the bindings of the vertical timbers, and the hooks loosened their hold in the damp earth made damper by three days of heavy rain. Men atop the palisade looked down in horror as they saw and felt their purchase failing.

Their commanders did not waste time. They called for soldiers to prepare to attack and slaughter the men who sought to breach their walls when they removed the very walls that shielded them from inside. Soldiers ran to obey, forming a shield wall facing the crumbling timbers that was several men deep.

Meanwhile the King, acting on intelligence gained from the deserter his men had intercepted, swept his arm to indicate that Earl Sagar’s Lincoln housecarls and fyrd should move in to where he now knew a gap existed to the right in the wall. The Queen herself had pointed to a spot near the river where an old burial mound had been. It seemed that not only had some of that collapsed when she herself was a child in the fortress but that Malcolm’s own men had been chary about angering the dead by building part of the outer wall above the graves. As a result, where the outer wall should have shielded the inner where it came closest to the river’s edge there was a gap obscured but not plugged by brush. It would be a matter of little effort to cut that down and pass through into the gap between the walls.

Sagar nodded acknowledgement and sent his force streaming to the right of the earlier attackers in Jehan’s troops. There were not even any pitfalls here, though the soldiers knew to tread carefully over the graves in case of further collapse. They quickly chopped away the brush using their swords and axes as scythes and streamed into the inner sanctum.

The defenders who had formed the shield wall against invasion from the broken fortification found themselves attacked from their left by the flood of Sagar’s men who had taken advantage of the gap. Looks of astonishment were on their faces as the shield wall broke, unable to regroup quickly enough to face two fronts of attackers.

These fleeing men scattered, some to join the defense on the inner wall, others to no one knew where. A shout from one of the fortress’s garrison commanders to his men to defend the inner wall was taken up by virtually every soldier. They made for the inner wall and its defenses leaving the archers atop the outer wall to their fate. As the timbers were pulled out of the wall, it gave way, the catwalk at its top collapsing with it. The archers fell, the archers falling with it, some onto uncovered stakes in the near side of the pitfall but more to the weapons of the King’s own fighters.

Seeing how disastrous the mistaken order had been, many of Malcolm’s garrison, already afraid, already seeing little or nothing to be gained from their unfortunate choice of causes, started to back away and disappear, only a few falling to the outraged rebuke of their own commanders’ swords.

Nevertheless, many of the garrison have remained, and Sagar’s numbers fall with each of their men who faced the superior force on the inner wall. It was too late to pull them out. A few of Sagar’s men escape to fight alongside Jehan’s men who have broken through the fortification and killed the archers. There they received an equal hammering from Malcolm’s army in retaliation for their slaughter of the men on the outer wall.

Lawrence ground his teeth together as he watched his men fall all at once. He whipped to Edred who was at his side, about to tell him to assemble a large party of reinforcements when he looked past him and saw the Queen’s warrior cousin Ioruert hurrying to him on foot.

“Sire, sire,” the young man called breathlessly. “Forces coming from south of the village. O’Donnell’s.”

“God’s teeth!” spat the King peering through the rain to try to see the horsemen coming. “You take yours and your brothers’ forces and slow them down.” He turned back to his aide. “Get Botopher and tell Luco Treni to assemble half of his countrymen to overwhelm the garrison. Keep the other half in reserve for the final wave.”

Ioruert on his own two legs and Edred on his mount sped away to communicate the King’s orders.

On his tower Malcolm had the first smile on his face in days. He had seen the party of horses and heard them too. “The Irish!” he congratulated himself. A messenger dashed up the ladder and told him of the decimation of the King’s attackers in the breach of the south east wall. The confederate leader had a spring in his step as he went from side to side of the tower feasting his eyes on his impending victories.

“Lord, it seems we are not entirely deserted,” Aetheric effused at his side. “The messages got through and O’Donnell has kept his oath.”

“So it seems,” smiled Malcolm, clapping Aetheric on the shoulder. “Go get Maegwig. Why not let the sniveling fool see his own victory.”

Aetheric had not yet returned with the puppet king when Malcolm’s smile faltered. He could see Lawrence on his warhorse sending off with a wave of his arm a huge phalanx of soldiers in a tightly assembled shield wall. They were starting to advance on the stronghold. With no archers and no wall at this strategic point, he knew the shields would mow down the garrison on the inner wall.

“Where did he get all these troops?” Malcolm wondered as Aetheric returned to say that Maegwig could not be found anywhere.

Next: Gaylorde Lays It Out for the Queen

New Stories: The Siege Is Broken, the Battle Begins(Happened)

I hope you are all noticing that I started getting more accurately Anglo Saxon a little while before this.

Ethelberga had been accurate in her description of the downpour. The rain continued for that full day and the next dawned as soggy. The King was delighted. As miserable as it was to tramp around in the mud of the encampment, he knew that the heavy rain veiled his army's preparations from the fortress. The timing of the deluge was perfect.

Earl Jehan's men had been efficient and fast. In the cover of a rainy dusk they had taken the carts brought by the men of Affynshire and fetched back the logs that would be rolled into the pitfalls along the seven rod length of the outer palisade of Ratherwood. They were lying just outside the inner earthwork having been rolled there silently as possible in the dark of night.

Now they knew which length of wall as well. The deserter from Malcolm's camp had delivered up the layout of the two walls readily enough. Edred's techniques had been used not to gain the intelligence but to verify its veracity. Lawrence had been interested at how the inner wall had changed little from what he remembered from two years prior. The outer wall was so different that he had considered the possibility that it had an inner duplicate replacing the former palisades. The man's information had turned out to be quite complete save for some knowledge of Malcolm's own defensive tower. But they now knew that there was one section of the southeastern wall abutting the River Don where the outer wall was more than a bowshot from the inner. If they could break through there their forces would have a better chance of making it through to assault the more vulnerable inner fortress.

Under the cover of predawn darkness and the continuing downpour Lawrence gathered his armies. His own confessor gave the blessing and prayed that right be done that day. Lawrence earned a subdued laugh from the men as he told them, "I know not if I should live or die this day but either end will mean the end of life in this goddamned stinking shit hole." He smiled and turned to Ruallauh and the other warlords. One simple nod set them on their tasks.

Before first light any of Malcolm's lookouts on the outer walls would have heard an odd rumbling coming from the direction not of the King's army but more to the river's edge where the road from Lincoln crossed it by bridge. Two days of cold heavy rain had made the already lax watchers less observant. The siege had offered them no challenge and little diversion. The rain which had soaked their cloaks had driven them into the shelter of guard towers whenever their officers were not looking.

One guard looked curiously in the direction of the sound. "What is it?"

His companion, shivering in the added damp of morning muttered, "The river is swollen and flooding the bridge. That is all."

The first man shook his head. "I suppose you are right, but why is the sound coming closer?" He thought a moment. "Is the river flooding enough to reach here?"

The second man snorted. "If it comes this way it will have already drowned the Saxon and his whole camp. Now that is something that would be worth standing out here in this fucking rain to see."

"Still, I'd better tell the captain." He ignored the second man's obscene comment about the captain and went to wake his captain.

Jehan's men had felled the trees from which the logs were taken and insisted they have the right to deliver them to their purpose. In the dark and downpour they quietly as possible rolled them forward. The damp ground made rolling them up the outer side of the innermost earthwork difficult as the logs slipped and rolled back, crushing one man's legs s he failed to get out of the way. On the other side, where it sloped down again, the logs took off on their own and the men had to suppress laughter as they chased them towards the barely perceptible walls of the fortress. Here the land sloped to the river and as the logs were rolled athwart the incline it neither helped nor hurt their progress. The earth close to the pitfalls had been somewhat leveled by the digging of the holes so it was no challenge to roll the logs, some thick and some not so thick, into the area where a pole prodded revealed the edge of the pitfall. As more soldiers flocked to Jehan's logrollers, dawn was just breaking but to no effect. The rain was simply too heavy.

The men on the palisade could not miss the meaning of the next sounds they heard. The logs crushed the thin framework that had been placed over the stake-filled trenches. They crashed through and fell on the pointed stakes. Where a log was stout and heavy, the stakes themselves snapped. There they were lighter, the logs fell against the stakes and parts of the cover and simply made more of a framework for crossing the trench. It was clear to all who could hear that the hazard the pitfalls were to present had been neutralized. Now there was no reason to be quiet and shouting erupted on both sides of the ensuing battle.

Had there not been a sudden commotion, the archers who rushed to the spot to fire on the attackers below would have heard a sound that would tell them their arrows did no harm. That sound was the thud that followed the zip their fletched arrows made as they hit solid wood. The men below now armed with spears and swords were using these weapons to push bits of the cover framework and loosened earth into the pits, but they were doing this under a sow, a shield of solid wood held over the heads of the men to protect them from just the sort of defense the archers mounted. The arrows were thudding thickly into the top of the sow. None found their mark in human flesh.

Not so the archers under Earl Ruallauh, the most renowned archer in all England himself. They had come up behind the log rollers and their reinforcements and defenders and were now crouched just within bowshot, shielded by some of the logs that had not been needed to fill the traps. Their carefully trained bowmanship picked off one of the fortress's soldiers and archers after another as the first light overcame the veil of rain. The sun struggling through the clouds low in the east illuminated the faces of the men on the palisade just enough to suggest their shock and consternation as they realized how large the King's army had suddenly become.

Malcolm in his chamber had been awakened by his aide when the man came in to tell him of the strange sounds to the southeast. He emerged into the courtyard just as the shouts rose. "To the command tower," he ordered his aide, "but first bring the commanders.. and Aetheric." He buckled his sword belt tighter, chuckled at an urge to say a quick prayer, and dashed for the ladder that led up inside the wooden command tower.

Casting his eyes towards the sound of fighting from the vantage point of the wooden structure, he could see only those of the King's troops who were yet advancing and positioning themselves. He shouted orders for more archers to be sent to the ramparts, for continuous reports on the status of the enemy, for an accounting of what commanders were in position and where, and for ale and bread to be brought to him where he was.

He waited for Aetheric but hardly needed the man to know that his allies, his co-conspirators, had deserted him. He muttered under his breath, "When you lie down with dogs, you get fleas."

Next: Breacch!

New Stories: Elerde Reemerges in Lawrencium (Happenedwith cchanges)

A little jumping back and forth here. Forgive me.

As Josephine came through the town gate to return to the palace after visiting the sick with her maids, she noticed a man in the dress of a messenger riding out from its double gates.

"My lady! News of the King, mayhap?" one of her women said excitedly. She was carrying the basket that had been filled with food and supplies when they entered the town.

"That would be wonderful," the Queen replied hopefully. "I have had so little word of late." She started to lift her hand to get the messenger's attention, but dropped it with a sigh as he veered abruptly south and away from them.

Her other woman reassured, "Your brother will be able to tell you all about it, my lady."

Accordingly the trio and their man at arms hastened their steps up the steep climb to the fortress on the bluff.

Josephine did not wait to go in to change her clothing before seeking out Lorin. She found him as she most always did of late, bent over scrolls in his workroom, with his betrothed Larisa sitting quietly by with some spinning or needlework. Both stood and bowed in respect to her. She waved her hand to indicate they should relax and asked her brother, "There was a messenger.. news from my lord the King?"

Lorin looked at a loss for a moment. "Oh, the messenger. I know not, sister, for his message was for Duke Gaylorde. Something related to the fyrd."

"Oh," the Queen replied shortly. She did not care for the Duke, nor did she feel comfortable with how much her brother, the Chancellor, had simply ceded to the King's cousin without any oversight at all. "Then I suppose I must find him and ask him."

The quiet woman who would soon marry Lorin spoke up reassuringly. "My lady, I am sure there is no bad news. We should have heard it by now."

Josephine nodded distractedly and swept out of the chamber.

She had no intention of going to find him. She found a servant and sent him to fetch the man. Then she went to her own work chamber, composed herself and waited.

The man came slowly, or so she guessed from the time it took and his demeanor, as casual and unconcerned and downright insolent as ever. He entered her chamber at her "Come." He made the minimum effort at obeisance and waited for her to look up and explain the summons.

"My lady," he said simply.

After a moment the Queen looked up at him, cool, as distant as he. "Your Grace, I understand there was a messenger here. I would see what he brought."

Gaylorde inclined his head with a smirk. "Aye, my lady, there was a messenger. On matters of the guard, nothing more. And he brought nothing but what he had to say."

Josephine stared at him consideringly. "No news of the war, of the King then?"

"Nay, nothing you need be concerned about."

The Queen continued to stare, a glint of anger just showing in her eyes. "Sir, while I am standing in for my husband the King, all matters are of concern to me. I will hear what message you received." The man's responding derisive smile infuriated her.

He looked about and stepped over to a chair on which he draped himself carelessly. He stared back at her. "Nay, my lady, you do not need to know everything."

Josephine fought to keep the fury from her demeanor and voice. "Sir, I did not give you leave to sit."

"My lady, I do not need to ask your leave to take a piss, no less to sit."

Though he could be subtly defiant and discourteous, his open contempt for her was new. She thought a moment, then rose. "How dare you speak thus to me, sir?"

At his careless wave of a hand in reply, she stepped from the table, her carriage as dignified as she could manage, and walked to the chamber door. She opened it and called to a servant. "Fetch my brother and have him bring guards."

She turned to her husband's cousin where he still sat with no respect for her. "Methinks, your Grace, you have become too complacent in your role in my lord's fortress and army." To her surprise his only response was a chuckle of derision.

Several minutes of tense silence passed, then the chamber door opened and several of the guards entered. Josephine looked around them expecting to see her brother. "My lord Duke," she began, addressing him, but he did not appear and her voice broke off. She turned to the captain of the guard. "Where is my brother the Duke?"

She caught the glance between him and Gaylorde and all became clear. She took a step backward. "What have you done with him?" she demanded. When no one replied, she turned back to the captain. "I demand you put this man in irons immediately and conduct him to a cell where he may be held until called." She stood as tall as her small frame allowed, her right arm raised in a gesture of command.

The captain stood still, his eyes the only thing on him in motion. He seemed to glance furtively about as if trying to think what to do.

Josephine demanded, "Man, are you uncertain who is speaking to you?"

Gaylorde's snort of amusement seemed to bring the man around. He gave Josephine a disdainful leer. "Lady, I do indeed know who you are. But I take orders from the King."

"The King? You know I stand in lieu of the King as his regent."

The man smirked. "Not that King, my lady." He looked at Gaylorde. "This King." He made a formal bow to the man in the chair.

Josephine stood staring first at Gaylorde and then at the captain. Very deliberately she made for the chamber door. Two of the guards, men she had not recognized, grasped and held her arms. The indolent voice came from the chair. "Let her go. She isn't going far. Post a guard outside the nursery where the royal brats are penned."

He was right. The Queen hurried, hardly looking to one side or another, to the royal nursery. Her gait was stiff but purposeful. All that could have stopped her in her forward motion was one thing. "Josephine," said the old familiar accented voice from the chamber door she passed.

"Elerde!" she breathed and glanced quickly at him. He stood with one of Gaylorde's lead captains and was clearly not under duress. She thought to herself, "Nay, it cannot be. There cannot be that much villainy in the world." She prayed she was wrong and Elerde was not part of this, but she said nothing to him.

She did not give the man a chance to reply but hurried to the building that housed her children. As she turned to shut and bar the door she saw the guards following her and the look of sorrow on the Breton's face as he watched. She slammed the door shut and set the bar so that she and her children would not easily be dislodged.

"My lady, oh my lady, what is happening?" came the feminine voice from further within the chamber.

The Queen looked back to see her brother's betrothed, Larisa, in the doorway of an adjoining room holding little Elaine who had lifted her head from where it was buried in her nurse's shoulder.

"Mama!" the child cried and reached to her, leaning away from Larisa.

"Larisa, why did you not bar the door? Your first task is to protect these children!" Josephine went quickly to them and took Elaine in her own arms, then pushed past the frightened woman to enter the chamber where the other two were waiting. Peter had his thumb in his mouth and Caithness seemed frozen. "Where is Tavish?" the Queen demanded.

"H-he's under the bed," Larisa stammered, following her into the chamber. "I am so sorry, my lady. But.. but they came into my lord Lorin's room and took him out. I know not where. I came straight here."

Josephine sat on one of the beds, setting Elaine on her lap and pulling Peter and Caithness to her. "Tavish, darling, come out. I am here."

A head of curly brown hair slowly appeared. Tavish came out from under the bed and climbed up, coming around to the Queen's back and putting his arms around her neck. He put his face in her hair.

"Careful, my love. Do not choke memo" Josephine chided in a gentle voice. She looked up at Larisa who was pacing and locking and unlocking interlaced fingers. "Help me calm them and put them down for a nap. Then I will tell you what little I know."

Next: The Siege Is Broken: The Battle Begins

New Stories: The Second Fall of Ratherwood, Part 1

Part 1 - Sun Breaks and Downpours

alcolm of Horsfort, leader of the insurrection against the King of Críslicland, stood bemusedly atop the tower that gave him a complete view of the fortifications as well as that very King's camp not far away. He watched the men and horses and wagons arriving from all directions. Something had turned the tide. The Britons of this land were returning to their pledged sovereign. He knew that somehow he had lost. He knew the end would come soon, unless his allies, the four mercenary captains, came soon.

Aetheric came up the ladder steps to join his commander. The guards posted atop the tower stood ready to stop him, with mortal action if needed, for Malcolm was aware that in the face of defeat any man, even Aetheric, would not hesitate to kill him and deliver his head to the Saxon king down there in the village. He looked up at the man, then waved to the guards to let him come all the way up. "Report?" he said in a dull uninflected voice.

Aetheric smiled nervously. "No word of Ormyngel or the Fleming. O'Donnell seems to be still in Hucknall. And you have already guessed the Breton's actions."

Malcolm nodded. "So our messengers are able to get close enough to use the signals.. for now. Get back to them, and tell them to go to Hucknall and summon O'Donnell. Send them to Ormyngel and Ricbeorht as well. I will decide about the Breton later. " To himself the commander said, " He appears to have been a lost cause from the start. I overestimated the lengths he would go to avenge himself on the Saxon."

Aetheric hesitated.

"Go on, man," Malcolm snapped irritably.

"My lord, I want to know. Do you believe we have a chance at defeating this army that is forming?"

Malcolm chuckled and looked out again at the gathering forces. "Actually, aye, I do. If our allies can pull the same sort of dirty tricks they excel at we will overcome that ragtag army easily. It should be even easier without the Breton's presence.. ultimately Elerde was too in love with.."

"The Queen?" Aetheric interrupted.

Malcolm shot him a glare. "Nay, fool. Honour. A very dear commodity in the mercenary business. A commodity which I am happy to say you and I have no need of."

Aetheric snorted derisively. "I will go arrange the signals, my lord."

Malcolm did not reply, but put his chin in his palm as he leaned towards the top of the timbers of the tower. He was surprised even Aetheric was idiot enough to believe his bravado. His eye was attracted by a scuffle of some kind in the distance. For a moment he hoped it was a falling out between Britons and Saxons. Then he saw and sighed, "A game of some sort, if that may be believed…"

In Lawrence's camp a pig had broken away from a soldier who was planning to slaughter it and make a meal for himself and his camp mates. The little thing darted between legs, astonishing horses and collecting a troupe of impromptu boar hunters. Men with dark hair and shorter stature dashed about shouting and laughing along with men with fair hair who towered over them.

The chase was on.. and the King came out of his headquarters to see what the frivolity was all about.

"My liege," supplied his aide, Edred, "a pig has escaped its would be slaughterer and is making its way fast, as I see it, to the earthworks of the fortress."

Lawrence laughed, "Oh, aye? Then methinks that Malcolm may have the feast and not we. Why not send your men to make sure no fool forgets how far an arrow may fly from their walls."

Edred bowed to the amused but wary look on his lord's face and went to give the order.

The King went to the side of his headquarters and boosted himself up on a barrel set there to save rainwater. Just now the sky was a causeway for light clouds that raised across it creating sunbreaks and shadows to dapple the ground. Lawrence thought that such a cheerful sight did not belong on the heavily fortified palisades of the stronghold with its double earthworks nor on this rapidly overcrowding encampment of men in various styles of armor clustered about smoking campfires. He thought of the fields outside his own stronghold and his wife laughing as she urged her mount to outstrip his playfully.

Standing on the barrel he could see over the first earthwork. He held to a vertical timber and stretched to see what became of the pig and its pursuers. He smiled and chuckled as he saw the small animal dashing about in panic, followed by shouting and laughing men, and then darting up and over the rise. The men pursued it still, and Lawrence saw first the pig and then the leading chasers mount the inner earthwork. "Oh, please don't let the men forget where they are…" he breathed.

Alas, a few seemed to have done just that. As the pig topped the inner earthwork and disappeared from the King's sight, a small handful of men set out after it. He heard and then saw Edred's men run up behind them shouting. The chasers stopped abruptly on the crest. The King let out the breath he had been holding. Then he noticed that though they had stopped, the men, now joined by two of Edred's elite guard, remained standing on the earthwork. They held that position for a few moments, then abruptly turned and threw themselves back into the ditch between the two earthworks. The cause followed them instantly but thankfully flew, its fletching whistling overhead. Lawrence waited for more arrows, then for the squeal of a pig being shot.

Instead he heard nothing but shouts from the far walls of the fortress. He saw his own men clamber up to the edge of the rise to watch some activity on its other side. His own men were still as death, then suddenly he heard a sharp squeal of an animal in pain and the men's cries were added to the general commotion. They seemed to slip backwards into the ditch. They were coming back with some tale to tell, Lawrence knew. He hopped down from the barrel and waited.

Edred came running up with one of his carls. Breathlessly he said, "My liege, the pig.. it reached the walls, then it disappeared!"

"What are you saying, disappeared?" the King demanded.

The carl filled in the gap. "Sire, it just dropped. Into a hole. But there had been no hole there before as far as we could tell."

The other commanders had joined them by this point. Earl Botopher inserted, "Right by the wall? A pitfall?"

The man with Edred nodded. "We heard a squeal of pain just as it fell."

Edred added, "Sharp stakes then.. definitely a pitfall."

Lawrence nodded. "Aye, and we should reward that pig for alerting us.. though I suspect it is beyond gold trotter rings just now." He glanced at Edred's man. "Make sure our best archers are behind the second earthwork. We might chance on some of the enemy trying to retrieve the animal. Who knows how long it has been since they had fresh meat."

At the previously planned council of the war leaders that afternoon the King offered his plans.

"We have had good fortune in the misfortune of the escaped pig. We know now that there are pitfalls at least at that point of the walls. I think we can assume they encircle the entire fortress."

Earl Sagar voiced his concern, "How shall we get across them?"

The King nodded, "I have thought of this and the task is underway to fell enough trees that we may roll them into the pitfalls and step across."

The Briton Lord Luco Treni asked, "How long will that take? How long will it delay us?"

The King glanced at Jehan of Grantham. The older man supplied, "Not long, my lord. I sent enough men to cut logs for about a seven rod length of the wall."

Sagar interrupted, "Only seven?"

Lawrence cut in, "Aye, that is what I instructed." His voice and look made it clear that he was in charge again now that the battle was imminent. Sagar subsided, more relieved at the King's tone than wanting to debate the specifics. The incipient collective sigh of relief from the King's commanders was admirably suppressed. A few men covertly glanced at Ruallauh, whose ascendancy they had sensed, but he did not waver from his own attention to the King.

Luco ventured, "But where? At what point?"

Lawrence sighed. "If we knew the configuration of the inner and outer walls, we would know where they are most vulnerable. For now we must make an informed guess…" He shot Luco a warning look at the man's reaction to his word. "Aye, unless we get more information, we will guess.. but it will be based on the best estimation we can make."

From thereon the King laid out his plans for the attack. He stood on one side of a table on which a drawing of the fortress was visible. "We know only what those who have been in the fortress as recently as its fall recall and what we can see from outside," he admitted. "We have not been able to get anyone inside to look."

One of the newly realigned British chieftains asked, "Sire, I heard that the Queen recalled a passageway into old burial mounds under the wall on the riverside."

"That's true," Lawrence replied nodding. "Unfortunately we think the enemy found it when refortifying that part of the wall. We cannot be sure, but the hole is now boarded up and some scouts heard what sounded like a collapse and shouts shortly ere that." His lips turned up in a sardonic smile. "God rest the souls of the unfortunate ones who were lost." His words brought appreciative laughter.

Looking over the grouping of men who surrounded him, Lawrence became serious again. "Brothers, we have the opportunity now thanks to those who have come back to our side and will fight fiercely for the kingdom of their fathers to put that kingdom back into our hands." He lifted one eyebrow knowing the Britons would take note of the word "our". "We will not forget, none of us, that it was Críslicland and its armies, though, who rushed in to make war on the usurpers. And usurpation it is. I know that many chafed under my sovereignty, but they were wrong. Your Queen is as surely your Queen as she ever was your king's daughter.. and I am her chosen consort and therefore your sovereign. Many have broken their sworn oath to me and by so doing to her as well. That cannot be tolerated. There will be no words of sympathy or allegiance with the villains in the fortress. If any man here doubts that I am the King of this land by right and by the swearing of loyalty from each and every one of you, he m ay leave now. When we have taken Ratherwood again, we will come and deal with any traitors. But any man who stays and fights for their sworn King will be adjudged to have come to their senses. " He cast his piercing blue gaze over them all, challenging dissent. He saw none. "I have one more thing to say. Many of you lost faith and then forgot their own fidelity. You will be watched to see that your allegiance now is solid."

Earl Ruallauh, whom the King had secretly set to be the new ruler, under his own direction, of this l and, crossed his own arms over his chest and glared about the assemblage. Few of the men looked at him, however, for Lawrence had reestablished himself as their commander and King.

King Lawrence looked to his priest and nodded, then bowed his own head as the priest made his benediction over the men and their endeavour.

It was still dark and the dew starting to form on the ground when the King was awakened in his hut. Edred had leapt up from his bedroll to challenge those who had come shouting into the center of the camp. He returned quickly and told the King, "My lord, the watch has taken a man from the river.. they saw him slipping over the wall into the water."

"From inside the fortress?" Lawrence inquired, standing and pulling his cloak over his shoulders. "Bring him."

Four soldiers responded as Edred opened the door and gestured. They brought with them a small man who was soaked to the bone and shivering as much from fear as cold. He saw the King and quickly dropped to his knees and quaked, holding his bound hands in front of him prayerfully.

"My lord, have mercy! I just wanted to get away and back to my family."

Lawrence observed the man. Yes, he was dressed more or less as a soldier. "Did he have weapons?"

"Nay, sire," offered the captain of the watch.

"I could not bring weapons or I should drown!" the simpering man insisted. The captain struck him across the back of his head with his fist.

"Leave off that," the King ordered. Then he said to the now weeping man, "You were deserting?"

The man glanced up very briefly at the King's face. He looked down again and in a desultory voice admitted, "Aye, my lord. I was that."

"You know I cannot honor any man who deserts his post," Lawrence said in a firm but even voice.

The man nodded weakly.

"There is a way you can save your own hide." Lawrence glared fixedly at the man, who did not look up.

"Anything, sire, anything I can do," the man said beseechingly.

"There is a problem with that, however."

The man's momentary stillness at the tiny bit of hope fled and he crumpled to the floor.

The King went on. "Anything you tell me will be both suspect and do further dishonor." Lawrence started to pace as he continued. "You could be sent by Malcolm to give us false intelligence. Or you are a scoundrel willing to sell him out. How can I possibly trust you?"

The man did not move from where he lay in a tight heap on the ground. "You cannot, my liege."

Lawrence stopped his motion, and turned to stare at the man. The small hut was dead silent save for the man's badly stifled mewling.

"Edred, take this man and question him. You know how to get at truth. Spare no means. I will have the knowledge he has and not what may have been given to him to trick us. Then come to me." Lawrence glared at the man on the floor. "Get him out of here. I think he has soiled himself. Send the old woman in."

The soldiers grasped the man by his arms and dragged him backward out the door. The King turned to the table where he had the drawing of the fortress folded and invisible under other papers.

As Ethelberga came in, clearly having been roused from her own sleep by the commotion, Lawrence demanded, "Do something about the smell. And I need light." He paused. "Do I hear rain?"

"Aye, my lord," Ethelberga replied as she went to get a brand from the fire with which she could light the oil lamps. "IN fact, it's a right downpour."

The King smiled grimly and thought, "Excellent."

Next: Elerde Reemerges in Llawrencium

New Stories: Affynshire Rallies to its Queen (Cut)

This story was never even completed.

On the original story: I want to get this war story over with so I can go on to the next.. the next to last as it happens... storyline of the book. So I will post narratives instead of dramatized stories for the rest of or most of the rest of the Affynshire war storyline. Then we'll get vack to storytelling with the usurping of Christenlande's throne. Have I used the word "story" often enough so far?]

art II The Villages

Narrative only.

The King sent word immediately to the commanders in the encampment at Ratherwood to be on the lookout for Malcolm’s men disguised as the King’s. The cousins of the King’s wife met with him and other present commanders to discuss a strategy. The King elected to accompany Earl Ruallauh to some of the villages that had been sacked to see the damage for himself and to try to assure the villagers that his forces were not in fact behind the attacks.

In the meantime Cingen set out to visit Celtic chieftains to convince them that Lawrence was not committing the atrocities. Even Modron set out to visit with some of the closer neighbors. It was hoped that Ioruert, the youngest brother, would be in touch so he could be informed of the attacks and how to handle the situation as he continued to visit with western lords.

At the first village that the King and the Earl visited the scene was devastating. All the cottages and out buildings were burned to the ground. There were dead villagers and their animals both in the lane and visible in the cottages. Only the priest in the tiny chapel remained alive. He told the party at the Earl’s request of how the raiders had come in, torched the buildings, all except for the church which, itself a wattle construction, nevertheless had lost some of its outbuildings. The people though unsure of their own loyalties having been secretly holding for the Queen were horrified to see men ride in on horses that wore the Crísliclandian badge of a sword in front of a sunburst. Animals were stolen, people killed, women raped and then killed, everything destroyed or damaged.

All the while the priest talked he kept his eyes carefully averted from Lawrence’s except for one contemptuous glance that made Lawrence wince and brought a chastisement from the Earl who informed the priest that the villagers had been duped. The priest when asked by Ruallauh if he had ever had complaint of the King, said that he had no cause to praise either. Lawrence turned firmly and turned his horse and started to shout to men in his guard to begin to help the priest bury their dead.

At the next village one cottage was still burning. The men leapt off their horses to try to help the few survivors with the buckets of water. Someone shouted that a child was still left inside the cottage, hiding and refusing to come out. The King tried to enter the cottage but at that point the thatch collapsed and he heard the child scream. He tried again to go in but failed. When the fire was down to smoldering ruin he found the shrunken burned body of the child and lifted it, held it in his arms and silently and privately wept as he brought it to its mother’s arms.

The villagers, having watched the King try to rescue the child, now crowded around him and several told their tales of the attack.

Now angrier than ever the King told Ruallauh to continue to visit the villages and help where he and his soldiers could. He also sent soldiers to local religious houses to bring out more help. He in the meantime would return to the encampment at Ratherwood and begin the planning to finish the siege of the fortress.

Ruallauh suggested that they call a meeting of the chieftains and lords at Ratherwood to present the truth to them and urge them to rally again for their Queen. Lawrence quietly commented that he does not even yet know if she is alive and with their children. Ruallauh reminded him that Ioruert was looking for her and will get word to him, and that the dishonor to the Queen could only help strengthen their cause.

The King left and the Earl set in motion the relief of the villages and started on his visits to British chieftains and lords to bring them back over to his side.

Next: Part 3 - The Council Meeting

New Stories: Affynshire Rallies to its Queen, Part I (Cut)

A shortened version of the Celtic tribes return to allegiance appears in the book. Lawrence did not, after all, go to Keito Uxello.

art I: Keito Uxello

The stealthy advance towards the walls of the small fortress of Keito Uxello was through dense forest so the King's small party missed the exeunt of Elerde's force almost entirely. What little the scout saw was reckoned to be of little more significance than the movement back and forth of troops. It came as a surprise then when the advance scout sent to determine the numbers holding the fortress and the condition of rebuilt walls had mystifying news that none of the Breton's men could be seen.

Lawrence himself addressed the scout sharply. "But you saw O'Donnell's men instead?"

"My liege, aye, but…"

"But what?!" the King pursued irritably.

"My liege, I saw them.. a few of them, but they were in.. a stockade."

"A stockade!" Lawrence roared, causing Ruallauh and other officers to look about in case he had been heard by any enemies.

Cowering, the scout nodded. "Aye, lord. And guarded by men with his banner."

Lawrence looked at the man, glanced where he was indicating, and asked more calmly, "His? Whose?"

"The earl's, sire."

Earl Ruallauh responded, "Mine?"

The scout nodded. He waited for the commanders to continue any questions and was relieved when the King waved a dismissal. "Go get some food and rest. I thank you."

"Is it a trap of some sort? A ruse?" he asked the earl.

"Mayhap. Though to what end, I cannot tell, my lord. I should know the men if they are truly mine. I should go to see." Josephine's eldest cousin showed signs of wishing to hasten a departure. "Your majesty, may I have your leave?"

"You have it, but I am coming with you," the King answered.

Outside the very wall that months before the musician Rory had gotten himself captured the King, the earl and several men at arms listened to the sounds from within the fort.

"Can it be?" Ruallauh pondered.

"The woman's voice?" the King inquired.

"Aye, 'tis certës my lady mother. And she sounds not at all in distress. Wait.." He cocked an ear, then abruptly left the King and his men behind as he circled the wall to a point where he could boost himself to take a short look within. "It is!" he cried as he landed hard again on his feet. "My brother!"

"Wait, Ruallauh," the King called to him as he turned and rushed further along in the direction of the gate. Lawrence gestured to his guard to follow him as he made his way more cautiously after the earl.

Ruallauh startled the guards, men he had known since a child, as he came around the corner and faced them. He quickly removed his helm as they leveled spears at him, startled into action but not speech.

"My lord!" one of the men cried.

"Aye, Huwal, 'tis I! And how come you to be guarding my mother this fine day?" The earl had come to the men and had one hand on the shoulder of each.

"Lord," the other guard, fairer of hair and of greater height of the British Huwal explained, "the Breton lord has gone and taken his men away."

Hearing Ruallauh's companionable speech with the men the King looked about the corner of the wall flanked by his guard. "Your majesty, 'tis safe. These are indeed my men," the earl called, smiling broadly.

Huwal hissed at his partner, "Brennus, down. 'Tis the very King!" The two men were on their knees instantly.

Lawrence came forward hesitantly, but as he saw Ruallauh's face and the men on their knees, he hitched up his belt and commanded, "Up. What has happened here?"

Huwal looked up tentatively, then dragged himself to his feet with Brennus helping arm. "My liege, if it pleases you, the Breton has left and only my lord Earl's men are here now."

Brennus added, "Nay, there are some of the O'Donnell's men =.."

"But they are prisoners, sire. If it pleases you," Huwal repeated.

"It pleases me passing much," the King laughed. He looked to the earl. "Methinks we need to learn more of this. Where is the late earl's lady, guard?"

Ruallauh answered for the man, "Let's see if she is within," and without a second thought headed through the gate into the courtyard. In the moments before the King and his party followed, Lawrence heard the shouts of surprise and joy that came from the courtyard. He commented to an officer, "Well, 'tis a good thing only friendly forces are within, or we should have heard quite another reception."

Lawrence's entrance did not register on those within at first. He looked about, seeing so much change in a place, understandable in all the years since he had first visited, but much of the damage was clearly of recent vintage. The fortress had been declining for years, with the rise of other powers in the formerly Celtic kingdom, and for that Lawrence felt a pang of responsibility. Had he been a better steward and brought the two peoples together better, the whole collapse of Affynshire, the slow ebb and the sudden breakdown, might have been prevented. That this happened to his own wife's family brought him up short. Then he could see beyond the deterioration of unrepaired walls and dilapidated outbuildings to the more violent evidence of occupation by armed men. The paucity of livestock, the damage to fence posts from being used to practice with spears and swords, the filth left behind only now being disposed of, the general look of things being stripped. And no young girls, no young women anywhere about. He frowned, then looked back to where Ruallauh had turned from his mother and brother Cingen back to him.

As soon as the two had recognized the King, they went to their knees. Ruallauh helped support his aged mother as she dipped. Others in the courtyard, men at arms, servants, all but the men held in the small stockade, doffed caps and fell to their knees as well. Before them, though in modest clothing and no particular indication from his armor other than its quality that he was King, was a man no person could have mistaken for anything else. Over the years Lawrence had left behind callow youth and now stood tall and confident, his body well filled out and his chest, back and arms muscular, standing above and outside the common. His face was care worn and rather distant with nonetheless piercing blue eyes that caught anyone who was the object of their gaze up short, Even the prisoners recognized who he must be and many started to jeer only to be silenced by their guards.

Lawrence covered the ground between himself and Lady Modron in a few strides and reached to lift her to her feet. "My lady, my kinswoman, stand. You honour me with your courtesy. Better let me greet you and thank you for receiving us into your home." He lifted her hands together to his lips. "My deepest sorrow for the death of the earl your husband. I rejoice that my lady, the Queen, could have time with you all ere he passed."

The old woman's eyes sparkled with moisture, but she smiled. "Your majesty, 'twas indeed a treasure to see my niece, for both Ceretic and myself. It meant a great deal to him. She and her Irishmen gave him much comfort e'en to the end."

"Ah, you speak of McGuinness who I believe made an unplanned second visit here."

Cingen, who had risen to h is feet, responded, "Aye, and was taken prisoner. He was with O'Donnell and Elerde when they found the Queen." He looked at his older brother realizing the King would already know about this. "My brother would have told you of that odd exchange. Have you word, my liege, of our cousin?"

Lawrence looked grave. "Aye, she made it to our camp at Ratherwood with your brother Ioruert but then disappeared when heading back to Críslicland. There is no word as of yet. In fact, 'tis Ioruert who has gone to find her as he travels speak to the Celtic chieftains and lords."

Modron, seeing the man's pained expression, came forward and put a hand on his arm. "My poor lamb, what troubles and fears you have had. Come in now and tell us the story and we shall tell you ours." She looked into his eyes frankly. "Your Queen is strong and brave and extremely clever. You need not worry for her.. she will be in touch when she can."

Lawrence nodded gratefully and followed her inside.

By late evening the company had shared all the news they had to share of the old earl's death, the occupation of Keito Uxello both by Elerde, whose men had been under control, and O'Donnell, who had not. The King shared news of the war, of Josephine, of Ioruert and of Shannon O'Neill. He could see in Cingen's face that Ruallauh had shared O'Neill's explanation of O'Donnell's odd choice with him. They did not speak of it before their old mother.

It was around the firepit as eyelids became heavy that the first plans for how to proved with taking back the usurped country was on the lips of the men, Modron having retired to her chamber.

"I cannot understand how Malcolm persuaded so many of our country men to cast their lots in with him," said Cingen.

Lawrence did not reply.

Ruallauh spoke instead. "'Tis the old rivalry and resentment. Though their Queen is one of them, at least by half, they are easily led to resent a Saxon King." He looked sharply at Lawrence. "Begging your pardon, sire."

Lawrence waved the look away. "I fear that I have been too slow to understand the needs of this land. I put into position a governor general who had no interest whatever in the nature of it and more than acceptable interest in his own benefit. Oddly the best thing I had done for this country was sending the Breton, though that seems to have come back to haunt me that I did."

The two men looked uncomfortably at their hands as they sat hunched forward in the dim light. They looked at each other with scarcely hidden relief when Lawrence went on, "I should like to have your help, all of you in the family, so that the interests of this land can be assured. If you will agree, I shall make you governor general .. nay, King, subject to Críslicland, of Affynshire, Ruallauh. I do not think your relationship to me will be an impediment. Your people love you, all of you. I have seen that for myself oftimes."

He seemed to think for a while, then turned to Cingen. "Your brother Ioruert has been speaking to those who have been led to oppose me by Malcolm and continues to do so. Declaring Ruallauh King is this land's due and should not, methinks, appear as anything but a just choice on my part. Your cousins have a prior claim, so you shall be under my rule, but you shall also be under my support and protection. We are family, I should not compromise you and your reign in any way."

Cingen's face had lit up with pleasure. He clapped his brother on the shoulder and said, "King Ruallauh! I like the sound of that!"

In the morning the entire company was at breaking its fast when hoofbeats were heard coming fast up the road to the gate. An almost breathless rider came down fast from a lathered horse and was taken immediately to the King, whom he had not expected to see and before whom he hastily knelt.

"What is it, man?" the King demanded.

"Villages, sire, burned. Many, and wrecked and the people killed and raped and stock taken. And the horses.. sire, I don't know.. they were in your livery, sire."

Ruallauh turned sharply to Lawrence. "My lord, this cannot be. You could not have…"

Lawrence shot back an angry look. "Nay, of course not! 'Tis the enemy with the horses they took from us on the road to Lincoln. God and all his saints damn them."

Next: The Villages

New Stories: Something is Rotten in Lawrencium

hannon awoke with a splitting headache the next morning surprised at first that he was in the Great Hall. He painfully sat up to see that others were still around him on the floor. He remembered suddenly his talk with the Queen and wondered why she had felt so sanguine as to talk with others around them.. then realized these men must not have been there when they spoke.. He would ask her. He tried to get up, felt his head reel and a sharp nauseating pain stab right behind his eyes. He muttered something about the trick to avoiding hangovers being not to sober up, then managed to struggle to his feet.

He went outside to relieve himself and to wash his face with cold water. He noticed the serving woman Rowena coming towards the well with her bucket. She glanced up and saw him and smiled. "Shannon, you look awful!"

Shannon laughed and shook his head. "Now then, that be just what I need to hear this fine morning."

She laughed and patted his cheek. Seeing him wince, she said, "Oh, I am so sorry, you must have a terrible head this morning.. drank too much in the hall last night? Odd, I did not see you there."

Shannon put one arm around her waist. She deftly danced out of his embrace. "Nay," he said without a change of expression at her rebuke. "I drank too much in the tavern.. so much I somehow transported meself here. How have ye been, Rowena lass?"

She looked at him a while. "I am so sorry… Shannon.. about everything. Rory. Heather." He just shook his head, wincing from the glare of the sun in his eyes. She went on, "'Twas not the same with the royals away, and so many of the men, e'en my young man, Stepan. I pray he is all right. And with all the young men gone, the Duke.. the new one I mean.. has brought many of his own household here to take their place." She looked around then leant to him. "And they lack some of the courtesy of our usual lot, if you can credit that."

Shannon thought about the Queen's concerns expressed the night before, but kept his face and tone neutral. "Aye, and how be that, me lovely lass?"

Rowena put her bucket down and leaned her back against the well to think. "They are rougher.. in language, in behavior. Even in their pursuits. Our King's house carls had a fine time, no mistake, but there is an edge with these men… they must have some mean end in their fun. I worried all the time about the princes and princesses. I know the good Duke protected them, but…"

Shannon nodded. "I can be imaginin', for certain. I am after thinkin' of coming back to sleep and live here. I shall try to make you feel safer."

Rowena laughed, causing Shannon to mock hurt feelings. "Ah, you wore out your welcome at the Blue Lady then?"

He shrugged, smiled crookedly and said, "Well, aye, 'tis true. I have to sleep somewhere, don't I now?" He moved to Rowena again as if to take her in his arms. "Can ye spare a place on your own sweet pallet then, lass? Ye must be lonesome with Stepan away," he purred.

She pushed him back with the flat of her hand. "Now why do you not help me draw this water, you shameless man?"

Shannon gave her a quick bow and picked up the bucket. "Why is it shameless and shameful mean the same thing, then? 'Tis your language. "Explain it to me."

Rowena took the bucket again after he had filled it. "Well I suppose it is because just one word meaning that was not sufficient once you, my friend, were in the world.. " She sent him a saucy glance and hurried away.

"Good answer," Shannon saluted. He cast about for what to do next and decided an audience with Josephine might be wise.

Shannon did his best after that to ingratiate himself with Duke Gaylorde's guard, singing bawdy songs and drinking with them. Yet he had little more to report in an audience with the Queen than that they silenced abruptly when he entered their collective presence and made odd remarks he could not divine about changes to be made around the fortress. Nevertheless the totality of hints and silences was eloquent. Something was amiss. Was it arrogance or a plot? He did not know.

"I am wonderin' if we should talk about this with your brother, me lady?" Shannon once posed to the Queen.

"Oh, Shannon, I wish we could. But I am sorry to say I do not think he would believe either of us. My brother is a learned man; he believes what he himself can see. And right now he sees only one thing." Josephine smiled tensely.

Shannon arched an eyebrow. "And that thing be a certain merchant's daughter's smile?"

"Aye, and I am glad of it for his sake, but he is peculiarly disinterested in anything but promise and hope. He even took the news of the raids on the Roman road with a calm demeanor, I have heard."

"And I am supposin' since that all turned out less than tragic, he feels justified in his optimism?" Shannon queried.

"If he thinks that far at all." Josephine walked from where she had been sitting in her own council room to a window and looked out. "Methinks he is mostly glad to have someone take the military role here. He has ne'er been much willing to take it himself."

She turned and looked back at Shannon where he had stayed, standing. She saw his reddened eyes and sagging features. "My friend, how do you fare?" she asked with genuine concern.

He shrugged. "Well enough, me lady, and be thanked for askin'."

She went to him and laid a soft cool palm on his cheek. "I know. 'Tis all I can ask, for me and for you."

The sound of a man clearing his voice came from the entry room to the Queen's chamber. Josephine dropped her hand and she and Shannon stared where Duke Gaylorde stood eying them with suspicion tinged with satisfaction. The Queen offered her hand stiffly to Shannon. "You may go, O'Neill. Thank you for the song."

Shannon took the hand and, bowing, kissed it. Adopting an obsequious voice he said formally, "Me lady." He turned and waited for the Duke to step from the doorway so he could pass though it. "Your grace, my pardon, but mind the lute, if ye will."

The Duke glared at him. He looked up at the Queen when the minstrel was no longer nearby and said, "I have never cared for that man, your majesty."

"He is my friend, my lord," Josephine stated coolly, her demeanor saying more about how she felt about the man in whose presence she stood now than the man she had called friend.

"Friends like that can get a person into much trouble. My lady, forgive me, but discretion will serve you better." The Duke had come forward and now stood before her, looking down at her face with veiled eyes.

Josephine started to snap back at him but thought better of it. "He is harmless, my lord. But I shall bear your advice in mind." She shot him a cool look, then turned her back. "Was there something you wished to discuss with me, sir?"

With her back to him she did not see his thin smile. "Nay, my lady, save to learn if you have news of the King and his army."

Josephine knew that any message thus received would be taken to her brother, Duke Lorin, first, and that he would share any pertinent military news with Gaylorde immediately as befitted the military commander in the palace.

"My lord, you know perfectly well I have not," she responded with cool indifference. "Anything else?"

The Duke eyed the back of her head irritably, but just bowed and said, "Nay, my lady. Thank you, my lady."

"Then you may leave me."

Gaylorde backed out of the chamber. In the corridor he leaned to one of his officers. "I so look forward to slapping the superior look off that woman's face."

Next: Affynshire Rallies Again to their Queen

New Stories: Shannon Falls Apart, Part II (Cut)

See note on yesterday's post.

fter nightfall when others had gone to their beds Josephine was just starting to gather up her work and head for her own chamber, having sent her women all to their own pallets, when she heard Shannon take in a gulp of air all at once. She set down her spindle and wool and leaned her forearms on her knees to look closely at him on the floor. It was chilly in the Hall in spite of the firepit. She had a shawl tight around her shoulders. She had listened to the whine of the wind in the thatch high above her and the occasional bark of a palace dog, but her attention had been focused on the Irishman's raspy breathing.

Shannon groaned and looked up, bleary eyed and unable to discern where he was for a moment. He muttered something like "Gerda?" then tried to sit up. He held his head in his hands as the pain struck inside his head. Josephine just watched and waited as he came to himself.

He finally pulled his hands from his eyes and squinted up at her. "Where the hell am I?" he said irritably.

"You are in the Great Hall, my dear friend."

His eyes widened when he realized who had spoken to him. "Jo? Me lady?" He looked around, then down at himself. "I be that much of a mess," he said without a hint of humor in his voice.

"That you are, Shan. How do you think Rory would feel o know that you made such a misery of yourself on account of him?" Josephine's eyes were soft but her face was stern.

Shannon flared. "Dinnae tell me how to grieve for my friend. What do you know of any of it?"

Josephine did not react to his show of temper. She let him sit glaring at her until his face relaxed and he gazed down at his hands sadly. "I be that sorry, me lady. I have not been meself."

The Queen thought to herself, "I wonder…" but kept her doubt to herself. "Shannon, I need your help. That's why I sat up with you, hoping you would be awake when we were alone. I cannot turn to any other but you."

Shannon's attention was caught, his eyes cleared somewhat, and he looked at her with hesitant concern. "Me lady, what is it? What is wrong?"

She looked about them, causing him to do the same, then leaned in and said bery quietly, "I do not know what it is, but something is not right here in the palace. 'Tis like I went away and came back twenty years hence. So many people are gone, so many new faces. Mostly those around Duke Gaylorde. I may be imagining things, or I may just not be able to put what I feel into words. I am afraid, Shannon."

Shannon's eyes filled then with sympathy. "I havenae been here, so I kennae what ye mean..." he began.

"But you are the one person I can think of here now who can see the same things I do and tell me what you think. I cannot tell my brother. He would insist on looking into it, and something tells me that would be the wrong thing to do. Shannon, I need you. I need your sharp wits. I need to know you are here keeping an eye for me and the children. You can learn things I cannot." She reached for his hand. "Please, Shannon, won't you help me? You know that is what Rory would ask you to do as well. And Lawrence."

Shannon gazed at her, working his jaw as he thought. "Aye. Aye, Jo, that I shall."

The look of relief was genuine on her face. "I need you to promise me that you will stay sober enough to help me, to be vigilant. You most certainly can do as you will, but passed out or gone from the palace will not help me..."

Shannon's eyes flashed with anger. "So that be what this is about.."

"Nay, Shan. I shall be honest, I do want to kkeep you from destroying yourself, but I also need your help. I am terribly anxious about this. I am sincere in wanting your help above all others'."

He looked at her considering for a time, then nodded. "I shall do just as ye ask."

The Queen smiled, then squeezed his shoulder. Then her look became serious again. hesitated, then went on, "You know about Heather, I suppose?"

A flash of anger crossed the man's face again. "Aye" he assented desultorily.

"I am most heartily sorry for that, dear Shannon. I pray she comes to her senses and returns to you."

Shannon looked to one side. "She took Seamus!"

Josephine leaned forward again and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I know. I have sent a small party to find out whatever they can so you at least will know he is safe."

Shannon looked back at her face this time clearly surprised. "You did that, me lady? For me?"

Her smile was warm. "Of course I did, my dear. I pray 'tis not long ere we have news."

Shannon looked abstracted again for a few minutes, as he ingested this information, this kindness, this concern. A look of realization touched his face and he put his palms flat on the floor on either side of his hips. "And the King? And the war? They are…?"

Josephine looked grim. "The King is alive and as far as I know well. The army has taken some setbacks. But we are confident that we can recoup the losses."

Shannon frowned and asked, impulsively, "And O'Donnell, that fuckin' bastard? Is he also alive?"

Josephine sat up with a stern look at him for his language. But when she replied she said, "Still alive as well, again, as far as I know."

Shannon looked abashed but said through gritted teeth, "May he die a horrible death and roast in hell."

Josephine sighed. "I cannot pray for that.. but I can wish it."

Shannon looked at her with new eyes. "Ye will?"

"Aye. Here is a little ale to help you clear your head. Now lie back down and get some more sleep." She stood and stretched stiff muscles.

Shannon sipped the proffered ale gratefully, then looked up from the cup and asked, "How long have you been sitting watching me?"

"My lady," she chided.

Shannon grinned his old familiar lopsided grin. "Me lady. I beg your pardon."

Josephine smiled back. "Quite a long time, really. Now do as you are told and sleep." She stifled a yawn behind her hand. "I am off to my own slumber." She looked at him again seriously. "I mean it, Shannon. You are not to leave the palisades. You may do as you wish within them, I shall not interfere within reason." Her voice was firm but not chiding. "I shall not permit you to destroy yourself. That is all."

Shannon offered her a mock flourish as a salute and she nodded quickly and left him to curl up in his blanket again and sleep.

He watched her go. "That is one hell of a woman. If she wasnae a Queen…" he thought. Then he shook his head and lay down.

Next: Something Is Rotten in Lawrencium

New Stories: Shannon Falls Apart, Part I (Cut)

The general idea of this story remains in the novel, but with no heather, much of the action here is cut.

he Irishman veered away from the royal party as it headed into the fortress cheered by the returning Queen's adoring subjects. Afoot he passed through the crowd. Occasionally someone called his name or slapped him on the back as greeting. He nodded and smiled but said nothing, leaving the crowd behind to climb the hill west of the town. He trudged through the damp grass to a favorite spot, a copse on the hilltop overlooking the north road where he and Rory often went to sit and talk and play music.

Once there he leaned his back on a tree trunk and crossed his arms over his chest. He sighed deeply and bowed his head. Staring blankly at the ground, he said aloud in Irish, "Och, lad. How could ye go and leave me like that?" He smiled grimly. "I am supposing you were not given much choice. I cannot bear to think of ye like that, such a beautiful man. But I know ye are in God's Heaven now, for never was there such an angel." The tears overflowed and he let himself slide down the tree to sit at its base. He covered his face with his hands and wept.

Some hours later he stood on the crest of the hill looking down on the town. The crowd was long gone. The fires were burning in all the cooking pits and ovens in the palace, judging from the plumes of smoke straining into the sky when he glanced up and over to its ramparts. He was cried out, numb. Of course, a feast of celebration. He wondered if he had a place in either the palace or the town any more.

Then he thought of Heather. "Och, at the very least I can see me lad. And mayhap the woman will want to share my grief." He stretched his back muscles and arms and started down to the town.

As he walked he began to hope for a fortunate reunion with his family. When he arrived at the town gate he was hailed cheerfully by the gatekeeper. "Well met," he called in return. "Cannae stop for I be goin' to see me wife and son!"

He did not hear the gatekeeper's call, "But Shan, wait! She's…"

Their little house, the one he had leased to make heather happy, was on the far end of town. His lute bouncing on his back, he trotted through the houses and other buildings, shops, the church, store buildings and animal sheds, waving to those he knew. It was clear that he was racing to a reunion, but people just stood and watched, not knowing what to say.

He dashed around a curve and stopped still. The house was there, of course, and there was a child playing in the dirt in the late afternoon sun. But the child was not Seamus. He kept walking towards the house until a woman stepped out of the open doorway to call the child in to wash for supper. It was not Heather. Then he saw all the other changes, the bench and table in the dooryard gone, leather window coverings instead of the oiled parchment he had put in to please his wife. The thin patch of thatch on the roof he kept promising to fix was now amply supplied with straw. Toys that were far poorer and simpler than Seamus's given to him by the King and Queen littered the yard.

The woman looked at him. "Shannon?" she asked hesitantly.

He recognized her as one of the family of Celts of different origins who met regularly at the master metalsmith's house in the town. "Where are Heather and Seamus then?" he asked without greeting or other pleasantries.

"You didn't know? They moved. They went north the same day you left with the Queen. " She looked past him. "And where might Rory be? Ah, I suppose he is celebrating with the rest at the palace. And why be you not joining them yourself?"

Shannon stood mutely staring at her. He could not believe that Heather had just up and left without a hint. He knew she had been angry with him, thinking she had finally caught him trysting with some wench, but he never thought that she would go away. Worse yet, she took his son, his -- not hers-- with her.

"Did she say where she was after goin"?"

The woman looked sympathetically at him. Not that I know of, dear. You might ask the priests."

Shannon's face screwed into a wry grimace. "Aye, if anyone knew our business it would be the priests." He turned without a word and walked away back into town.

Each step was a painful memory of Rory, of Heather, of his son Seamus. He saw clearly that he was completely alone now. "I should leave and go back to Ireland, as we planned," he thought to himself. But the torpor stealing over him robbed him of volition. He stopped in the town square by the cross and gazed at the ground. He did not hear or see the people who greeted him. He was numb to the point of being frozen in place.

At last he looked up and saw the Blue Lady Tavern down the high street just beyond the square. He headed straight to its door and went in.

--

After the jubilation of the day before, the morning dawned on two subdued societies, the palace and the town. Once Josephine had seen her children and Shannon had strolled into the tavern the news they imparted of Rory's execution had spread. Everywhere his many friends and acquaintances were numb with shock. Rory dead was tragic enough, but executed? It seemed impossible.

Josephine herself set the tone for the palace. She asked for a mass in Rory's memory and arranged for regular prayers for the peace of his soul by the monks at the monastery outside of Lawrencium. She attended the memorial mass, bringing her children with her, and sat solemn but composed. In her heart she was weeping and longing for Lawrence to hold her and comfort her but outwardly demonstrated dignified grace. Others in the palace well knew that she was setting the example of attending to the business at hand and were grateful to her for it. The pain was al most too much to bear.

One thing that disturbed the Queen greatly was that when she sent a messenger to look for Shannon so he would know about the mass, the boy could not find him. She then sent a guard who was a friend of the Irishman's who found him at the tavern but in no shape to talk. Josephine wanted to go to him herself, but she could not. At the memorial mass Peter happened to see Shannon hovering in the door of the church and told his mother, but by the time she had turned to look at him, he was gone. She ached for his pain, knowing it to be more profound than even hers could be. Now he was so alone.

Shannon had blurt out to the others in the tavern the first night he was back how Rory had died, though he kept the real reason to himself. He drank himself stupid but not before pouring out his grief sloppily in song and lament. Those in the tavern who were natives of the town were shocked and dismayed. Others from the community of Britons, Welsh, Cornish, Scots and Irish in the town streamed into the tavern once the news had spread like a wildfire. Shannon was barely conscious of their arrival. One of the serving wenches cleaned up his vomit and covered him with a blanket where he had fallen to the floor and slept.

He had arisen groggily and painfully in the morning as the maids cleaned the alehouse and stumbled outside to a town of mourners. He was shepherded to Cedric's and coddled there. He was put to bed in the married niece's room and looked after by the women of the family. He tried to join the others who gathered that evening for music and stories and speeches in honor of Rory, but he simply could not bear it and stumbled out into the street and back into the tavern.

It was the bell of the church that drew him to the memorial mass. He stood in the shadows in the doorway and listened. He saw Peter's flaxen head turn to him, saw the lad point and speak to his mother, and slipped out and away before the Queen could turn around.

--

Josephine sat in her husband's accustomed seat at the council table with the Witan made up of the thegns of Críslicland who were not themselves at war. Some were too old to fight and had sent sons and grandsons. Others had been specifically asked to stay available for Witan service by the King before he left. Her brother, Duke Lorin, sat at her right hand, his usual place, not at all unhappy with giving up the seat she now occupied. He was a loyal henchman and happiest in that role. Besides he was preoccupied by being in love for the first time. It did not affect his duty to the Queen, but it made him happy he did not have to be in charge of everything. He had a great respect for his sister and knew if she needed help or advice she was sensible enough to ask for it.

On her left the King's cousin, Duke Gaylorde sat, alternating between looking bored and looking superior. The Queen did not try to like the man. That was unnecessary in her position. But she wanted at least for her skin not to crawl when he looked at her. She was not sure why he caused this reaction in her, but she was not a woman to worry such things unduly so she just treated him civilly and in a authoritative manner. He seemed to respond amused as much as anything. Lorin her brother, was too well occupied with his own thoughts to notice it.

The business of the Witan was to report to the Queen first about the war in Affynshire and how the armies were being supplied. She learned of the skirmish that lost the army many of its horses and assigned providing new ones to the palace guard's leader, Duke Gaylorde. The threat on the Lincoln Road to Ratherwood made supply parties risky and prone to raid, but they had no other option. Unless Hucknall in the southeast fell, the Lincoln Road was the only avenue for carts and large groups of mounted and marching men. Josephine asked an older man from Earl Jehan's household warriors to plan alternate means of supplying the army.

Josephine ignored the patronizing tone of some of the thegns. She reminded herself that she unlike anyone there but her brother was of royal blood, was the heir of a king who was himself the son of a king.. and that she was Lawrence's proxy now. She used as her main measure of what she must do the many hours she had sat and listened to Lawrence himself in Witan or in moot court or any other council. She knew that while her brother was a more than able administrator, he did not have quite the keen mind the King had, nor could he deal with issues that required a firm, even brutal hand. Lawrence was King in more than just position. He was born to it, lived and breathed it, and the very thought of him suffused her with his own strength and courage as a ruler. She learned more and more about why he was so loved and respected and yet also feared.

Josephine had ordered that the King's chamber be made ready for occupation again and had moved into it herself. It not only comforted her to feel so much of her husband around her in that room, it seemed to comfort their children as well. The first time they came in from her own chamber to find her in the large curtained bed they all smiled and ran to join her. She was glad, for Rory's death had hit them hard, especially the girls.

The time came however that no matter how precious her time with the twins and their brothers was to her or how important her role as sovereign was, she had to think about Shannon and how to help him. The same guard who had found him in the tavern found him again and with another man literally carried him stuporous into the palace. They put him on the rushes on the floor of the Great Hall, where the unmarried men of the palace also slept, and laid his lute gently beside him. Josephine took a stool to near where he lay and sat in the torchlight spinning while he slept. Servants came in and out of the Hall and glanced at the two, but no one disturbed them.

This storyr continues tomorrow.

New Stories: Josephine's Homecoming (Happened with Changes)

I believe I changed the initial meeting with Larisa in the novel.

They heard them long before they saw them, the party from Lawrencium and the palace who came to welcome home their Queen on the southwest road to Grantham. Shannon, who walked alongside Josephine's horse, put his hand on her ankle and smiled up at her. "My lady, you be home," he said with a voice that belied his haunted eyes.

Josephine glanced at his hand, then when he had taken it off her, she smiled back at him. "Oh Shannon, 'tis been a long and hard journey for us both. Now we are home."

Shannon tried to conceal the wince on his face. "Home," was all he said, the word uttered dubiously.

The two were accompanied by a guard from Lord Jehan's household. In Grantham the Queen had been welcomed with joy and relief that she was safe. A messenger was dispatched immediately through Lincoln to the King's encampment to bring the glad tidings. One might well imagine Lawrence's reaction knowing his wife was now on her way home to their children.

Josephine did not tarry long at Grantham. The lady of Grantham begged her to stay and wash and find more Queenly clothes but in her haste to be reunited with Peter, Tavish, Caithness and Elaine she would not hear of it. She waited only long enough to gather a mounted guard to accompany her to Lawrencium. She found Shannon after a short search for him to let him know they would leave forthwith. He was in the kitchen of the fortress, sitting alone and finishing off what appeared to be only the latest of several beakers of mead.

When she entered the kitchen., too anxious to get away to dispatch a servant, he toasted her with the beaker. "Josephine!" The kitchen staff glanced over at him shocked at his familiarity, then made their own proper gestures of respect. "I be an ale drinker meself," the Irishman went on, "but there be something to be said for mead when ye wish to blot out the world!"

Josephine frowned, "Oh, not now, Shan. We are leaving. You need to get ready if you are coming back to Lawrencium."

Shannon put his empty beaker down and looked confused. "Leaving? Now? Can't a man rest his weary bones a wee bit then?" Then he looked at her, bleary eyed. "Do ye want me to come with ye, me lady?"

Josephine had come to where he sat and put one hand on his shoulder. Their time traveling together, depending on each others' wits to see them through, and their shared shock and grief at the news of Rory's hanging had instilled in them a friendship only the two of them could understand. "Of course I do, dear fellow. But come, let's get you in shape to leave."

Shannon stood unsteadily and belched. "Me apologies, lady." He tried to give the Queen a deep bow. One of the cooks reached for his elbow to help him stay more or less upright. "Methinks I should ride in a cart, then," Shannon said with an apologetic expression.

The man had slept off the effects of the mead on the rumbling, tumbling ride northeast to Lawrencium. Of course by the second day he was able to walk alongside the Queen and even sing to her. She could feel his fragility though he tried to keep a light demeanor.

Josephine's joy at returning home included a guilty feeling of relief at not having to hold Shannon up any longer, though she knew his troubles were just beginning. Now that they were back a combination of no one to hold him up and painful memories of time spent with his friend would give Shannon plenty of opportunity to dwell on his loss. Would his wife Heather help him? She would talk to the woman and convince her how much that help was needed.

The Queen looked up from her walking friend to see the foremost of the welcoming party coming. She knew instantly the man in the lead was her brother, Lorin. She spurred her horse onward as did he, and they met halfway between, both leaning out of their saddles to embrace. Laughter laced the words of happiness at the reunion. He murmured to her, "Dearest sister, you will be most warmly welcomed home by four little hearts I could name."

Josephine smiled and pressed his hand.

As the combined parties approached the split in the road that led up to the fortress or farther to the town of Lawrencium, a crowd had gathered at both the city gate and on the steep road to the palace. The mood and appearance of the greeting throng was like a high holiday. The Queen started to say to herself that it was like a hero leading his troops back from the war. The thought startled her, for she realized it was much the truth. She had been at war. She had fought. She had survived. She was returning, triumphant then to her people. But the same thought led her to thoughts of the one still at war, who might not come triumphantly home. Josephine quickly banished the thought.

As they road up the road to the fortress Josephine leaned to Lorin, trying to make herself heard over the din. "The children - how are they?"

"They are well, and they shall be better once they see you." His blue eyes were lambent with happy moisture.

"Recover?" Josephine wanted to ask more, but they were through the gates then and the horses separated too far to speak to Lorin. Again the courtyard was crowded. Josephine's eyes lit one by one on the familiar buildings, and people and drew warmth from the sight. She also noticed a lot of new faces mostly among the palace guard. But, she realized, most of the guard was with the King. These would be his cousin Gaylorde's men. Gaylorde who had volunteered for the role of home guard in spite of the opportunity for glory and reward in the war.

Josephine chafed at the need to stop and greet so many people once she had dismounted. She felt almost painfully drawn to the small building where the royal nursery was. But she instead led the way into the Great Hall. Inside she called to a servant, "Prepare me a bath. I will remove the stink of horse and journey ere I see my young ones."

Her brother, who had taken her arm, asked her, "Will you take some refreshment first? I have something that with your leave I should like to share with you.. and someone to meet."

The Queen glanced at her brother with a look of curiosity. "Meet? Aye, 'twill take sometime for the bath to be ready. Lead on."

She saw as Lorin drew her towards the end of the hall that he was smiling and even blushing a little. She looked to where he was leading her and saw a young woman standing quietly and anxiously near the farthest wall.

Lorin brought her to the woman, whom she realized she recognized as the daughter of the leading wool merchant in the town. Larisa was her name. A simply dressed woman, especially considering her family's wealth, and though not a radiant beauty still had a kind face and genuine manner. Larisa had gone down on one knee in front of her. Lorin was drawing her back up, much to the woman's obvious embarrassment, and saying, "Please stand with me, dearest, as I present you."

The Queen's eyes opened wide at his tone, pleased, excited, and loving. She looked at the woman whose hand he held in his now.. Josephine's smile broadened as she watched her brother's affectionate solicitude towards the woman who was rose cheeked and fair of hair, Ho now, she thought, what has passed while I have been gone? She herself came closer.

"My lady," Lorin said formally as the three met. "May I present Mistress Larisa. I think you know Baldwin, the wool merchant, her father. Larisa has accepted my request that she and I be wed." His face was uncharacteristically pink with excitement and the Queen could swear she even saw a dimple.

"Oh Lorin!" she cried, clapping her hands together in front of her breast. "I had no idea!" She reached for the woman's hand. Larisa was flustered, awed by being this close and intimate with the Queen and tried to bob another curtsy.

"Things developed apace.. since you have been gone, my lady. I had council with the merchants and Larisa was e'er there to serve us. I could not take my eyes off of her… " The articulate duke was almost tripping over his words as he spoke.

Larisa blushed and looked up from modestly downcast eyes. "We had occasion, your majesty, to speak many times, mostly but not entirely alone. I think… think it was .. begging your leave my lady.. love at first sight."

Josephine smiled warmly. "I know how that feels, dear sister." She leaned to the woman and embraced her.

Lorin beamed as the two women reached out arms for each other.

Josephine took her leave. She made a point of stopping to thank the Duke for his role as protector of the palace. She did not like Gaylorde who was arrogant and supercilious, but it was her duty. He accepted her thanks most graciously.

She felt strange stepping through the doorway to her chamber. It clearly had been cleaned and made ready for her, almost as if she had never gone. As the serving women monitored the placement of the wooden tub and the hot water that was fetched from the kitchens, she removed her clothing and put on a dressing gown. She walked about touching her things, her chest of gowns, her dressing table with its comb, silver mirror, and box with her jewels. She touch the bed which, she thought, still showed both her and her husband's impressions in it. She looked at the doorway that led into the King's chamber. Her hand on the handle, and glancing around to see if she could slip away, she opened the door and went in.

The King's chamber was empty of all things that signified occupation. The bed and the chests, the table and chairs, all were there, but the firepit was cold, the bed curtains pulled shut, the rugs rolled up, and in some cases sheets of cloth covering furniture. She saw the chamber was scrupulously clean, just deserted. She went to the table and slid her hand across the top where Lawrence would be working were he here. She pulled a sheet off one of his chests and opened it. Drawing it out she pressed one of his tunics to her face, stroking her cheek with it and taking in his scent. She dropped the shirt back into the chest and, not stopping to close the chest again, went over to the bed. She drew aside the curtain on the side where her love slept. The bed was free of bedcovers. Just the linen covered straw pallet was there. No pillows. The sight of the bare lonely bed made her catch up her breath. She stifled a sob. "Lawrence, I miss you so."

The bath was heavenly. The water was scented with rose oil. Her women washed her hair, brought more hot water as she scrub her skin rosy. She chose a soft blue gown from the chest and remarked on how it was looser in some places than she remembered. The women did up her hair and put the head scarf of the finest linen on her head, held in place by a gold circlet.

Lorin met her in the corridor and smiled as he took her hands. "You are lovely as ever, Sunshine. I wish Lawrence was here to see you look so well."

The Queen smiled wanly and made the sign of the cross over her bosom. "Aye, so do I also wish and pray."

At the door of the nursery she hesitated, her eyes glowing with anticipation. Lorin, who had accompanied her to the spot nodded a now and retreated to leave her alone with her reunion. She reached for the door and pushed it open.

The children were all clean and dressed in their best. A nursemaid stood behind them, beaming. There was the barest moment's hesitation, then the little faces registered that the promise was fulfilled, it was their mother, and she had returned. Finally. There came forth a chorus of "Mama!" from every child. Elaine dashed forward first, throwing her little arms around her mother's skirts while her twin, Caithness,, following her closely, clung to her legs now with heartbreaking fervor. "Oh my dearest children, I have missed you so!"

Peter, who was taller and starting to lose his toddler shape gave his mother a little bow and spoke formally, but his smile, which came from his eyes as much as his lips, belied his excitement. "Mother, we missed you too."

Josephine spread the arm that was around Elaine's shoulders and Peter came into the embrace with his sisters.

"Tavish, darling, look how big you've gotten." Josephine spread the arm she had had around Caithness to invite him in. "Won't you come kiss your mother, my son?"

Tavish's eyes lit up and he came forward. The five stood together in one embrace, tears just moistening the Queen's eyes. She looked up at the nursemaid and said, "I should like to be alone with my children."

The nursemaid curtsied and said, "Welcome home, my lady," and with a smile at the children clinging so hard to their mother she left.

Josephine managed to squat down so her head was closer to the little ones' own. They covered her face with kisses and she reciprocated, laughing and soaking up the sight, sound, smell and feel of them. As she led them to sit with her on a bench she noted how Caithness clung almost desperately and kept coughing quietly. Elaine fairly danced, chanting, "Mama Mama Mama!" Tavish happily settled on one side of her, leaning against her. Peter's face was aglow. He stood before her as she sat.

"Is Father home too?" He asked.

Josephine reached out and patted his flaxen hair. "Nay, my darling. He is still at war."

Peter's face clouded. "Will he get killed with a spear?"

His mother cleared her throat on a catch. "We must believe in him, dear, and pray to God to keep him safe."

Elaine cried, "I pray too!"

Caithness's face came away from where it was pressed into Josephine's upper arm. "I pray too."

Tavish nodded firm concord. Then he asked in a small hesitant voice, "You leave again, Mama?"

Josephine looked back into his earnest little face and shook her head. "Nay, my love, I have learned my lesson. I shall ne'er willingly leave you again. I promise."

Caithness coughed and then asked, "Promise?"

"I promise."

Next: Shannon Falls Apart