[I'd intended to update yesterday, but I can't stay online for anything when it rains.
coz: Probably helped, since it gave me a bit of a rest.
Shaytana: Certainly a possibility.
Nikolai: Well, I've already played the part I'm doing in this AAR. But if I decide to continue on, it'll be under 1.03. I may be a Catholic, but I'm not too big a fan of Papal Europe.
Zeno: Unfortunately, the version I'm using has "Wizards thou shalt not suffer to live" instead.
frogbeastegg: Alright, I will.]
Once the feast ended, Roger gathered all his men around the fire. Roger had a map out in front of him and was showing which lands he had decided to give, and to whom. After showing Rainuld what he had been granted, the steward replied, "A good area, lord. I shall govern it with wisdom."
Roger gave a bit of a chuckle. "Not so ridiculously formal, Rainuld! You sound like you've ran that through your head ten thousand times. Which I wouldn't be surprised you did."
"I apologize."
"Eh, it's not so big a deal. Mortimer..." Ralph suddenly jumped up; he had eaten quite a bit at the feast and was quickly becoming sleepy. "Mortimer, if you can stay awake through this, I'm giving you this area here." Roger went through all the major towns, showing them on the map. Mortimer yawned, bowed (nearly falling over in the process), then slid over to the fire, hoping to stay awake in case Roger called on him again.
Just as Roger finished, one of the guarding soldiers walked in. "Lord, a group of Saxon thanes are here to see you."
Rainuld growled. "Roger, don't give them anything. I'd bet my sword that they'd be back within a month asking for more, and more, and more..."
Roger waved his left hand in a dismissing motion, and lightly shook his head. "I will listen to what they have to say, first. If it is reasonable, I will accept. I would accept a request from a
pagan if it was reasonable."
Rainuld sighed and sat down while three Saxons entered. "I am Ealdred," said the leader, "thane of Acton. This is Siward of Frodesley and Widard of Farlow. We request, if you deem it right, that we remain in our positions."
"I accept. Providing, of course, that you govern well, and in consideration that I am your master."
"Of course."
Rainuld shot up again. "Lord, Farlow is in my--"
"Not anymore." Roger waved at the Saxons, who bowed and half-ran out. "I must show fairness to the Saxon populace, or I face revolt. Which reminds me. Mortimer..." Snoring could be heard from the curled-up Ralph. Roger walked over and nudged him with his boots. Ralph started and looked up, barely fighting a yawn. "Yes, lord?"
"Tomorrow, I want you to start organizing a small militia of Saxons. We don't have enough Normans to defend our land. Make sure--and this is
absolutely vital--make sure that they are loyal, or can be made so. The last thing I want is a rebellious militia."
This time, Rainuld was more cool-headed. "With all respect, lord, I don't think it wise to arm Saxons, no matter how loyal they seem."
"Can we afford it?"
"Yes, but--"
"That's all I want to know from you. If I arm them, they know I trust them." Rainuld opened his mouth again. "That is the end of the matter, Rainuld."