Post by Rainald de Sennis on Aug 25, 2010 5:57:48 GMT -5
For the past few weeks, Rainald had not been feeling too well. Maybe it was this castle. “Of course, that silly, you fool!” He chided himself at the thought the very instant it had occurred in his mind.
And yet … the queen had been ill for some time now, leaving the kingdom weak. Only too inviting for treacherous moves by opposing forces … like Frankia. He growled slightly. Charles was aware os this, of course, even if Rainald had tried to downplay this weakness in his reports to his king.
Then there was Lady Beren. “Lady de Lune….” Rainald smiled a he thought of her. He had grown fond of this witty, spirited and clever woman. She had fallen ill as well … Rainald had attempted to approach her in her sick quarters once, but immediately was turned away by her ever watchful and, in his mind, over-protective, guard Richard. So, he had kept his inquiries as to her health indirect, coaxing servants to tell him what he needed to know. He cared for her … maybe more than he would ever admit!
Lady Dream. Rainald had heard of her return to the castle. As much as he wished to mend the breach that had occurred between them so long ago, he had not found a way how. And maybe the Lady herself had no wish for any such move. He had decided, therefore, to not approach her himself, and let her make the first move towards reconciliation, if she wished such.
He sighed. At the moment the only joy in his life was his son, Gernot. He was progressing well in his training as squire. He had grown so much since he had come here with Rainald! Almost a man, which made the Frank Lord chuckle. And yet, so much still a little boy, to be guided and taught. Rainald would not know what would happen to him if ever he lost the boy!
Looking out of the window. It was raining hard outside, a storm was whipping the trees and rustling their leaves which still clung to their branches like desperate people clinging to anything firm to prevent them from drowning in a raging flood. Rainald took a sip of water from a mug sitting on his writing desk in his private chambers, and suddenly his mood darkened dramatically.
“How much longer, you miserable coward! How much longer till you’ll send your lapdogs for Gernot … and me? But may God be my witness, I’ll take your bastards with me if it ever will come to that!”
This castle, so remote from his home, now had become his refuge. And a prison of his own choosing!
And yet … the queen had been ill for some time now, leaving the kingdom weak. Only too inviting for treacherous moves by opposing forces … like Frankia. He growled slightly. Charles was aware os this, of course, even if Rainald had tried to downplay this weakness in his reports to his king.
Then there was Lady Beren. “Lady de Lune….” Rainald smiled a he thought of her. He had grown fond of this witty, spirited and clever woman. She had fallen ill as well … Rainald had attempted to approach her in her sick quarters once, but immediately was turned away by her ever watchful and, in his mind, over-protective, guard Richard. So, he had kept his inquiries as to her health indirect, coaxing servants to tell him what he needed to know. He cared for her … maybe more than he would ever admit!
Lady Dream. Rainald had heard of her return to the castle. As much as he wished to mend the breach that had occurred between them so long ago, he had not found a way how. And maybe the Lady herself had no wish for any such move. He had decided, therefore, to not approach her himself, and let her make the first move towards reconciliation, if she wished such.
He sighed. At the moment the only joy in his life was his son, Gernot. He was progressing well in his training as squire. He had grown so much since he had come here with Rainald! Almost a man, which made the Frank Lord chuckle. And yet, so much still a little boy, to be guided and taught. Rainald would not know what would happen to him if ever he lost the boy!
Looking out of the window. It was raining hard outside, a storm was whipping the trees and rustling their leaves which still clung to their branches like desperate people clinging to anything firm to prevent them from drowning in a raging flood. Rainald took a sip of water from a mug sitting on his writing desk in his private chambers, and suddenly his mood darkened dramatically.
“How much longer, you miserable coward! How much longer till you’ll send your lapdogs for Gernot … and me? But may God be my witness, I’ll take your bastards with me if it ever will come to that!”
This castle, so remote from his home, now had become his refuge. And a prison of his own choosing!