Thursday, July 26, 2007

556: Just like the old days

Count Mortimer laments

I admit: I have more pride than the churchmen say is good for my soul...but sweet Jesu! it sure does a body good.

That damn Cornishman's invasion hurt us, hurt us bad. If it hadn't been for the meager surpluses in Silchester and Sussex we would have had famine in Salisbury. Famine! It was never so bad, even during the chaotic years after Uther's death, with those Saxon princelings gorging at our tables while they waited for us to knuckle under...ha! They've had a long wait, those dogs.

So: disaster averted thanks to the neighboring counties. Not enough to replentish my stocks of siege equipment; that will have to wait til next year. Shortly before Pentecost court—my first visit to Camelot for the year as I had absolutely no time during Christmas—during a rare quiet moment, my lord Arthur and I looked over the Round Table. Fifty-four seats whose men, good knights all, will never come home. All for a silly cup! What a waste. I didn't say that, of course: Arthur takes that much more seriously than I. But while we were discussing relief supplies, he turned to me and said he was glad of his leniency with me and my castle-building obsession. I know many have advised my lord Arthur over the years to tear down the many manorial fortifications I've made before and during his reign, but this is the first time he's ever said that to me, that he was glad I did it. It was just the two of us sitting there; no one else heard it, but it warmed this old heart, and made me feel young again.

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