Thursday, May 17, 2007

541: Off to Strangore, Part III

Sir Lancrius relates...

I am told I have to marry this autumn. Some noblewoman from Bedegraine whose sire has interests in Salisbury. Father says it is "expedient" (his exact word) and I must do this for the family. The news put me in such a funk that I hardly took notice of King Bagdamagus's tournament; I spent most of my time commiserating with Sir Clydno, who is not only recovering from his near-death experience but in a severe melancholy regarding what he feels is his abandonment by the Finger of St Albans. He is also torn as to the hard fate of Father Tathan, and Sir Branwen's invective to "fulfill our oath to the good Father and kill those heathen Picts who betrayed him." Branwen won't let the matter go, and has been recruiting among the knights present for the tournament for men to march north.

Myself? After watching dear old Buford, father's squire, win the bohort, and several challenges to the death—all handily won by us—I am heading south to Silchester while father tries one more road here in the north on his quest to find my missing brother, Number One Son Monroe.

(But before I take my leave, I must say, those men of Dorset are a reckless lot! I would never have guessed to see Sir Doon fight a bear in a tournament spectacle, much less guessed to see him do it unarmored.

Good thing the archers were standing by.)

Meet Sir Cingetorix

Well, by the skin of my teeth did Uncle Ambiorterix provide me with arms and a position so that King Arthur could knight me this Pentecost Court. Huzzah! Newly knighted, I slung my shield on my back, and my sword and axe to my saddle and rode out for a summer of errant adventure.

I ended up, along with many knights both raw and well-seasoned, in Gaihom, where a King Bagdemagus hosted a tournament in the southern style. Oh, he got some of the finer points wrong, but he had men to advise him on the customs and it went quite splendidly. No clear winner, but no clear loser, either.

Many of the people in these parts, and indeed, a good portion of the knights in the tournament are not of a Christian sort at all, but clearly heathens, yet not Saxons, which I find curious (though there are certainly Saxons present; also curious).

Glory to the house of the Corvii, the equites, and good King Arthur!

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