Monday, December 19, 2005


Sir Marmaduke raves

King Ale and Duke Ulfius are once again invading the territories of others; Count Charles had me on garrison duty. I didn't mind. But as things heated up, the count summoned an army to defend Marlborough. So many knights and men-of-arms! A large force clashing, to be sure. We were doing well, my comrades-in-arms and I—Sirs Belinger and Tanicus—and even as the tide seemed to be turning in our favor with the capture of a battalion commander, an overwhelming sense of futility, of hopelessness against the ever-surging Saxon tide overcame me and I fled, maddened, from the field.

Sir Mortimer writes

My dear Ysabet:
I am still imprisioned in Silchester. The dastard will not let me out. I pray every day for your safety and that of our children, and for God to strike down that traitorous duke.

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