Thursday, July 26, 2007
557: Easy come, easy go
Count Mortimer explains
My boy Elliott, my steward and right-hand man these many years, has been working like a dog to get Silchester and our lands in Salisbury back in production. He's done a mighty fine job of it. It was rough there for awhile, especially after his little daughter died just after the new year. A skittish horse, and she landed on her head, they say. Snapped her neck. What a pity, she was full of vigor, that one. He tried to blame me for letting her ride a horse beyond her abilities. The nerve! And after he's confined me to geldings. Oh, I gave him what for. Our shouting made all the little ones cry.
At Pentecost he apologized and we were reconcilled. At court, my lord Arthur announced that he'd found Elliott a suitable wife (at my asking), a lovely maid from the southern part of Salisbury, near Portchester, to be his third wife. I'm afraid he takes after me in that regard. They married midsummer. We all needed a bit of a celebration. The king and queen were there, gracing us with their presence: we really pulled the stops out on that one. The party went on for days! Feasts, a tournament, even a court of love for the ladies and the softer gents. And a county fair for the peasants. My daughter Oriana and her husband, good Sir Reynauld were there with their newborn—another daughter, naturally!
The king looks better than he's looked in a long time.
In the fall we received the shocking news that Lyonesse sank beneath the waves! Everybody in the hall cheered at first, thinking it was part of Mark's demesne, then we found out it was the homeland of Sir Tristram. Oops.