Tuesday Night Pendragon

Sir Marmaduke cries out

Oh, the shame!

New companions, a new land, and a task set by a (for now) new lord. Count Charles of Marlborough, who at least fed and clothed Gauter and I over the winter, sent us out with the rest of the mercenaries to fight the Saxons some forty miles to the north of where the fair Broad Oak of Hatfield once grew. And on the banks of the Nene we engaged with the Saxon scourge, acquitting ourselves well.

As a poor knight you might imagine that I was a little more than pleased to attract the notice of the Count, who sent me, along with Sir Tanicus of Middlemarsh and Sir Belinger the Still, two other wandering warriors, out on a recon mission tracking the fleeing Saxon army. The keen eyesight of my forefathers comes in handy once again!

So, as a poor knight, imagine my dread when Sir Belinger announced that, not only had we lost the splinter group of Saxons we were tracking—and the track—but that we were in the Forest Sauvage. Sir Belinger, a mighty if strange knight, spoke a tale of his having spent a night in the forest while three years passed in the outside world! And entering the forest near Lindsay exited the same in Dorset. Incredible!

The forest was close and stuffy, densely filled with undergrowth for such a gloomy wood, so we made use of the best available campsite for the night, and camped on a disused road we stumbled on. Unused by men, anyway. Not long after Gauter had unsaddled the horses and set our camp for the night, and Sir Belinger and Sir Tanicus sleeping while I took first watch , I spied large, glowing red eyes peering at me from the darkness of the woods. I took a brand in hand and moved closer to ascertain what kind of animal peered at us so, but I backpedaled right quick when I realized that a trio of horned black dogs was attached to the saucer-sized eyes.

They jumped on us and, I am ashamed to admit, I was rooted to the spot with fear while my companions hastily donned their mail and began hewing at the ghastly dogs with their swords. It was too much for me to take, I'm afraid. Again, with the utmost shame I admit I ran into the woods to escape the fairy dogs.

Whether it was the tree I ran into or a slender strand of my father's courage buried inside me, demanding I stand and face my foe, but I turned and attacked the slavering beast. Three blows and it was down. I stabbed it again to make sure it was truly dead, then ran back to the road in time to chase off the last remaining beast. Squire Gauter was nowhere in sight; I can only assume he, like his lily-livered master, took to the woods. Both Sir Belinger and Sir Tanicus lay without moving on the ground. I was able to rouse Sir Tanicus with a little of the first-aid my mother taught me, but Sir Belinger's wounds were too great for my country skills.

I'm not sure what will become of us now. Neither Sir Tanicus or Sir Belinger is able to walk–Sir Belinger can't even stand—and the vile black dogs destroyed all four of our horses. We are on foot, injured, lost, in the depths of the Forest Sauvage...along with several hundred Saxon soldiers in the detachment we were following.

It doesn't look good.