Wednesday, March 01, 2006
512
Sir Mortimer relates
Court has been a strange beast lately, what with all this talk of "chivalry." Whatever. Sounds like a load of claptrap to this old campaigner.
Speaking of claptrap, during a feast at St. Albans (yes, I had a difficult time attending with any mirth or enthusiasm, considering what happened the last time I was there), Sir Ulfius had the temerity to insult Igraine, widow of our Uther Pendragon. To her face! Calling her a traitor in front of the entire court. Well, I could not let that stand. I stood up and shouted the dastard down. Then the traitor's son had the cheek to insult the memory of Sir Ebble. I went mad, I tell you. I would have thrashed him soundly if my companions had not stopped me.
But get this: it turns out, all those long years ago, when Sir Ebble and I guarded Merlin's escape, him carrying a babe...yes, where we were jailed and almost executed as treasonous knaves, that babe was our King Arthur! My head was spinning, and not just from the wine.
(Oh, then on some crappy little raid we almost all were killed by Greg and our stupendously poor dice-rolling. GM pity is the only thing that saved us.)
511
Sir Mortimer relays
Sir Brastius is now head of the young Pendragon's household knights, as he was for Uther Pendragon. Nice.
The Saxons are strangely quiet, so to keep the men occupied, we went off raiding in Hertford with Hervis. Young Leodigrance rode with us as a new knight, I'm happy to say. I showed him how siegecraft is done as we camped outside Guinnon, but the presence of a rapidly moving, HUGE Saxon army forced me to also how him how to conduct an orderly retreat. Ah, well—we'll burn it next time.
