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The Trees of Autumn

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[Shaytana: You'll see what happens.
frogbeastegg: Ditto. But earlier than the last one.
Zeno: The rest of those quotes are mostly the same... perhaps they can be used.]

Music
Antonio Vivaldi: The Four Seasons, Spring: 2.Largo (There's two versions there, I recommend the second one.)

Ethelred stood guard on a small palisade that had been built around Roger's fort. It was there as temporary protection until a stone castle could be built. For now, it would work well, Ethelred thought. There was little to worry about out here--the Welsh were busy with themselves, and his fellow Saxons had nothing to complain about.

It had been two months since Roger's arrival. Winter was leaving, but the night was still quite cold and Ethelred had to salvage what warmth he could. He shivered. Cold? No, that wasn't cold... there's someone watching! There, someone in the shadows--call the alarm! But he couldn't, for someone had his hand over Ethelred's mouth, and when the knife cut his throat he gave a slight grunt, quickly changed to a gargle.

Eadgar looked over to his right. There were noises on the palisade, but he couldn't make anything out. Ethelred wasn't at his post, but he expected that. When the shadows rushed past him, Eadgar didn't even look up. Nobody would suspect him of anything, only perhaps berate him for falling asleep.

Roger awoke to a dagger in his face. Attached to the handle was a rather angry Saxon. Two others were at the door, prepared for any attempt to rescue the earl. The one above Roger said, "One less Norman pig," and drove the dagger into Roger's heart.

Ethelred woke up. Sleeping on the watch again! It was a good thing he had that nightmare. Sent by God, perhaps? In any case, he now understood the importance of staying awake.

- - - - - - - -
Mabel1.gif

Mabel de Belesme​

Mabel looked at her husband, lying in the bed. "I have failed you all these years of marriage."*

"Oh, come now, my wife. Children are important, but not everything."

"I know. But I am growing old now... do you remember the story of Jacob and Rachel? Where she, barren, gave her handmaiden to him, that there might be a child?"

"I would not dream of doing such a thing to you. Remember, Rachel eventually bore two sons herself. And Sarah, Abraham's wife, bore a child at ninety! Have patience, my wife."

"Then let us try again, and pray for God's blessing."

Roger led her into the bed, though his thoughts were on other things than God.
___________
*Another mistake in the scenario's setup. Roger already had three sons and a daughter.
 
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Good update, and you seem a veritable Bible encyclopaedia. ;) I might have to consult you in the future, for I had planned to use a lot of Bible quotes/echoes myself. :D (right now I have them figured out, but you never know when i run out of them)
 
Good update, and I of course love the Bible quotes!:D Gives a nice touch.:)
 
nice I like the music for the creation of atmosphere!
 
[Zeno: It'll come in handy later on...
Seidita: Odd. Try again, maybe the site was down when you tried it.
Shaytana: Oh, let's see... I've got two New American versions, a children's version, another modern English version, the Rheims-Challoner Gospels, a New Testament (not sure which version), an abridged Old Testament, and a full Douay-Rheims version. Along with the Catechism of the Catholic Church, and a rather old book of saint's days and prayers. And translations of the Qu'ran, Bhagavad Gita, and Greek and Norse mythology (but that's beside the point). It'll probably get worse, since I'm taking a Religious Studies major when I start college this fall.
Nikolai: See above.
Archeolooginspe: That's what it's there for.]

Music Niccolò Paganini: Caprice no. 24

CHAPTER THREE​

"Better is a child that is poor and wise, than a king that is old and foolish, who knoweth not to foresee for hereafter."
--Ecclesiastes 4:13

"Are you well, lord? It doesn't look like you had any sleep last night."

Roger was trying to stifle a yawn by the fire the next morning. "Oh, I'm fine, Rainuld. What did you want?"

"Well, during our hunting trips, I was working on a better kind of bow. Here is the result." Rainuld showed him a shortbow that didn't look any different than normal. "I've worked with the materials and methods a bit. It is considerably more powerful, and able to fire at a longer range. However, there is one drawback."

"Which is?"

"If you will excuse the pun, it is, in fact, the 'drawback' which is the drawback. Due to the construction, it takes more strength to draw the string." Rainuld paused for a second. "While I was working on this, I was thinking: Perhaps it isn't a better bow that we need, but a better bowman."

"Explain."

"At Hastings, I watched as Harold fell from an arrow in the eye. That was some feat of accuracy."

"It was due to the fact that we had hundreds of arrows in the sky at once. Harold was lucky he didn't get hit sooner."

"Still, a trained archer can make some impressive shots. I would like to organize archery practice for the people of Shrewsbury."

"What was it you said the first day we were here? 'I don't think it wise to arm Saxons.'" Roger shook his head. "But I agree with you this time. Take it up with Mortimer."

"With respect, lord, Mortimer doesn't do a damned thing around here."

"Oh, he'll approve the practice and then let you do it yourself. Which is what you want, correct?"

"Indeed, lord. I will go to him right away."

Roger breathed a sigh of relief (and a yawn) as soon as Rainuld was gone. However, he was immediately approached by a servant.

"Lord, there's a Welshman who wants to see you."

"Let him in. Did he tell you what he wants?"

"No." The servant walked over to the door and returned with not one, but two Welshmen.

Or, rather, a Welshman and a Welshwoman. "I am Iorweth ap Owain, a poor man from Powys. I would, if you, lord, deem it right, like to be a servant in this hall."

"Interesting. How long of a journey did you make?"

"A week and a half."

"Only to offer your service?"

"Yes, lord."

"Did you walk or ride?"

"Walk. I own no horse."

"And your previous master?"

"I will admit, I left without his approval."

"If I refuse?"

"I will return to my master and face punishment."

"What about your... daughter, I assume, from the difference of ages."

Dyddgu1.gif

Dyddgu ap Iorweth​

"Yes, lord. Her name is Dyddgu. Only thirteen, but I'm sure she could be a good maidservant to any woman who lives here."

Roger thought for a second. "Adelaide!" He called over another maidservant.

"Yes, lord?"

"Show her up to Mabel. Ask her--Mabel, that is--if she would take Dyddgu as a maidservant." Adelaide bowed while Roger--reluctantly--turned back to Iorweth. "I admire your courage. You have a new master. But don't expect me to be any more forgiving of such a flight than the last."

Iorweth bowed. "I did not think you would be, lord."
 
"With respect, lord, Mortimer doesn't do a damned thing around here."

"Oh, he'll approve the practice and then let you do it yourself. Which is what you want, correct?"

I think Mortimer is Shaytana in disguise. :p I already like the fellow, and I hope he turns traitor, or at least does something extraordinary when he wakes from his slumber.(if he wakes)

And...what's the world coming to? Your pure Norman household is soon going to end up like the U.N. ;)
 
Zeno of Cyprus said:
Your screen shots arn't working for me unfortunatly.

I bet that Welshman will be important to the story soon...
Click to expand...
They work for me...?:confused: But with or without it, the text, good as it is, is still there.:p
 
Zeno: Photobucket has this annoying habit of going down every once in a while. Probably a bad sign. As for the Welshman... I try not to introduce useless characters.
Shaytana: He's up to something, that's for sure. As for what it is...
Nikolai: And there'll be plenty more of both.

Update will come sometime this afternoon. Just don't feel like writing that much this morning (stayed up late last night).
 
Roger paused. "Wait, I just thought of something. Where did you learn French?"

"My father, Owain, was in the Confessor's court. Welshmen usually get ignored in an English court, and Owain left with only a little more knowledge of nobility, including the Norman French that was so popular there. My father was a supporter of William, thought he'd be better than the Saxons." Iorweth sighed. "Unfortunately, that's why I'm here instead of him. He was stupid enough to make this vocal. My old master was a Saxon, Arnulf. He beat my father to death for saying that."

Another pause. Roger knew he had to change the subject. "Wonderful weather for a journey, at least, Enough sun to keep you warm, but not so much as to beat down on you."

"And, most important, no rain."

"Yes, turns the roads to mud." Suddenly, Roger turned to his right. "And here comes my own raincloud. What's the problem now, Rainuld?"

"Mortimer's in a rage. He thinks you gave him poor lands intentionally."

"Did I?"

"No! I looked over those lands before you came. Twice, because I wanted them so much. But, of course, Mortimer can't just jump in a horse and ride over to see for himself. He brings in the town elders and asks them how rich the land is. They make it out to be poor, since they don't want to pay much in the way of taxes. He actually takes their word for it! Of course, now he blames you."

"Oh, this is going to be fun. Come along, Rainuld. You too, Iorweth, I want you to see how this place is run."

- - - - - - - -​

"I must protest, lord! You cheated me in the distribution of lands!"

"And what makes you think that, Mortimer?" Roger said with a laugh. "You haven't been out of this castle since January! Won't even go hunting anymore. Just sitting around and stuffing your face full of venison and beef... when did you actually inspect it?"

"I don't need to inspect it! The thanes tell me everything I need to know!"

"The thanes who don't want to pay you taxes." Roger snorted. "Or is it you who don't want to pay taxes? Or both?" Roger turned to Iorweth. "Get Rainuld."

Iorweth dashed out of the room. "Now," said Roger, "we'll see who is right. Rainuld looked over the entirety of Shropshire while we were out hunting, so he'll know better than either of us how rich that land is."

Rainuld arrived a couple minutes later. "Yes, lord?"

"Tell me... how rich were the lands I gave to Mortimer?"

"Fairly rich. It was in the Severn valley, plenty of farmland. Almost no swamps. A few hills, with some good ores."

"Now, Mortimer, how could that be poor? Tell me, Rainuld, was the land underpopulated?"

"No, lord."

"Drought?"

"No. Otherwise, it would be affecting everybody equally, wouldn't it?"

"Hmm. I fail to see how that could be poor in any way."

Mortimer grunted. "Your old lackey is spitting lies out with every word. How much did you pay him to say that?"

"Oh, come, now, Mortimer, I don't need to resort to bribery in this matter. Iorweth, go see if you can find the Saxon thanes that met with Mortimer today. They can't have gotten far."
 
Intersting development, I didn't expect it. I gather I was right Mortimer seemed too asleep, but I didn't think it would come this early. Now let's wait for the thanes to come back, I hope it ends up in a mess.
 
[Shaytana: A nice big mess.
Zeno: Time to answer that question.]

It turned out the Saxon thanes hadn't even left town. Iorweth found them chattering among themselves near the gate. He bowed and said, "The Earl wishes to see you." They chattered some more, then followed him to the hall. Roger had gathered many of the Norman lords, so they could contribute another point of view.

"Now," said Roger, "Mortimer says that you three met with him earlier today. What was this meeting about?"

One stepped forward, quite obviously the richest. "He asked how rich our lands were."

"Hmm. And what did you say?"

"That our lands are somewhat rich--we have some good farmland, and mining."

The courtiers began to murmur. Roger put up a hand and they quieted down. Amazingly, Ralph didn't as much as say a word to this. "Now, Mortimer, you say otherwise. Do you still make this claim?"

"No, lord." Mortimer, in fact, had seemed very quiet ever since Iorweth had brought the thanes in.

"Then the matter is settled. Everyone is dismissed. However, I will convene another general meeting of the landowners who are in this town tomorrow around noon."

The courtiers all left, chattering amongst themselves. Roger left as well, Iorweth running behind him. "Good work, lord. I'll bet you knew he was going to fold once the Saxons came in!"

"Not really. I was expecting the thanes to lie. Mortimer, however... he went pale as soon as he saw them. Probably--"

Just then, shouting erupted in the main hall. This would have stopped Roger only for a second if there wasn't the sound of swords being drawn as well. "Damn," Roger said, "why didn't I check to see if they were armed? Then again, I wasn't expecting something like this."

Roger rushed into the hall. Mortimer and two of his soldiers were facing the Saxons. All were displaying weapons, though it was quite obvious the Saxons were at a disadvantage. "We had an agreement!" Mortimer shouted. "You broke your promise! I shouldn't have expected so much from traitorous Saxons!"

One of the thanes responded, not with words but with weapons. The Norman guard was struck down in a second, surprise locked forever on his face. A general fight erupted, with Normans and Saxons joining on the two sides. Roger called his own guard together.

"Cease this fighting! Under penalty of death, I command you to cease!" Roger's guards moved forward, and both sides stopped. There were many wounds, but no more deaths. "I will not have blood spilled in this hall. Ralph Mortimer, and you three thanes, I charge you here with attempting to defraud taxes. The rest of you I shall release, but be warned--the next time there is a fight, I will not be so merciful! Disperse!"

Except for Mortimer and the thanes, everyone rushed out.

"Now, I have something very special in mind for the four of you."
 
The plot begins to thicken. Hmmm, what does Roger have planned? Pretty crafty, that Mortimer. But perhaps not crafty enough. :)
 
Hahahahahah. Nice one. I guess tax evasion is a human disease throughout the ages. :D I hope the Lord is merciful to the Saxon thanes... Mortimer can hang though.
 
That bastard Mortimer!:mad: He better get some real punishment!
 
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