Slowly recouperating

[Vinzelles de Sennis]

Slowly consciousness came back to the Frankish councillor. He stared up at the ceiling, but it was not the same ceiling as he had seen in the Greta Hall. Not as high, and not as massive. There was one central beam running across the room’s width, on it were hooks and a few holes. The hooks reminded Vinzelles of a dungeon, you could nicely pass a chain through there, on which’s end would be a shackled prisoner. Quickly he tried to reach over his chest with one hand, then with the other. No, he was not shackled, his hand were free, his feet, it seemed, also.

So he was not a prisoner here…yet. Trying to sit up, however, taught Vinzelles differently – his head began to spin, his stomach began to revolt and he could hardly suppress the urge to throw up. Immediately he lay back down, exhausted, weak, almost disoriented.

How many people had witnessed his fall, how many had seen him so weak? He knew some would think this a sign that the devil was in him… people at the Frankish court would think such…. Were people here in Windstorm as suspicious? Bah, and what if they were? He was above such slander, he would cut out the tongue of anyone voicing such old wives’ tales.

Where was Lamont? Had he gone for help? Back to the ship? Why wasn’t he here? And that twit Trechanoux… where were they? In the dungeon? Had they separated them so they could deal with their delegation separately?

Another wave of nausea washed over Vinzelles…. He looked underneath the cot he was laying on, there was a chamber pot; he grabbed it and retched his stomach out into it, then laying back again, breathing hard, the foul taste I his mouth sickening.

[Rayven]

The midnight call for a healer had awakened me from a dead sleep and I bent all my efforts on following the slim figure of the chambermaid who flitted forward though the corridors, our way lighted by a single enclosed lantern glowing in her hands.

When the call first came I thought one of the men I had treated earlier in the day in the infirmary had taken a turn for the worse, but that was not the case.

The Frankish councilor was still not recovered from his episode of last evening and a request by his men had been made to send a healer to his chambers.

The thought of seeing him, much less ministering to his needs, filled me with revulsion, but he was a human being and in need of help, so I came.

A dim light shone from an unseen space within his chamber and the girl motioned me into the room.

The lantern glowed in the hollow space and by its dim light I could see a figure laying prone on the bed. His obsidian eyes squinted out from beneath his thick mat of long tangled hair.

His voice was dry as he turned his face interrogatively towards me asking who was there.

I stepped forward, raising the lantern so he could better see my face as I spoke in his native tongue.

“Ce j'est, Chancelor Vinzelles, Rayven. J'ai été appelé votre loger pour offrir l'aide.”
(It is I, Chancelor Vinzelles, Rayven. I’ve been summoned to offer you aid.)

Was I mistaken or had I heard a rustle of dry amusement from behind the all-enveloping darkness in that corner of the room?


“Whoo-ooo-ooo!”

The warning cry of an owl hung over the mere and made a shiver go through my body just then.

Then there was an echoing silence in the room as I waited, lantern held high, for his response.

[Vinzelles de Sennis]

Vinzelles needed to strain his eyes to make out the woman behind the lantern. He had seen her before, she was one of those feisty ones who would not back down at his bite. And such a one they send to him? No doubt to torment him.

“Vous avez été envoyez ? Ou vous avez choisi d'être ici pour me tourmenter?” (You have been send? Or you have chosen to be here to torment me?). He chooses to continue in the tongue this woman would be more familiar with.

“Some water or wine would be welcome. And tell me, where are Lords Duchesne and Trechanoux? Am I now…?”

He couldn’t finish the question, another nausea wave rushed through him, causing him to lean over the chamber pot. This was not going to be a good day!

[Rayven]

I came forward a few steps swallowing to suppress the frisson of distaste I felt at hearing his voice.

The first thing I noticed was the power of his gaze, his dark eyes burning with curiosity and distrust.

I sat the lantern down on the small table beside his bed, the rancid smell of vomit assaulting my nose as it rose up from the chamber pot beside his small cot.

I took the pitcher of water from the table and poured it into a goblet, filling it almost to the brim, then held it out to him, watching as his fingers curled around the delicate stem, his dark unfathomable eyes never leaving my face.

I am here to help you, not torment you Milord

He sipped at the water then spoke, his voice a husky whisper as he asked about his men. He didn’t get to finish as a spasm of nausea hit him again, causing him to bend over and retch out the yellow bile once again.

He leaned back against his pillow, his face pale and his stomach still quivering with spasms.

I am going to go and brew you some ginger tea, it will help settle your stomach and help you sleep.

I saw a look of alarm in his eyes as I bent down to retrieve the chamber pot.

Don’t worry. I’ll have Merry bring you a clean one and a linen cloth dipped in rose water so you can soothe your chapped lips. I’ll be back shortly with the tea.

I opened a window to let in some air to freshen the room, and then turned, picking up the lantern and headed back out the chamber door, closing it softly behind me.


(( A little note. Merry does tend to dawdle when it comes to chores. *L))

[Rayven]

Now as sweet and good- natured as Merry was, she did tend to dawdle in her chores. Not that she was insubordinate, but she often got distracted in her duties and time slipped away from her unknowingly. Talking to her would only produce copious tears and a sincere apology to do better, but after a few days, she would get off track again, which is why she was often delegated simple chores to do around the castle. Nothing requiring any real skill or duty that required her to think beyond a few steps of instruction was ever given to her to complete.

So when Rayven asked her to empty and clean the soiled chamber pot and return it to the Frankish Chancellor Vinzelles she should have stopped there, but Rayven went on with the instruction adding that she also bring a clean linen rag dipped in rosewater to the Chancellor down the hall as well. She should have known by the girl’s befuddle look as she struggled to keep all the instructions intact, that this would spell disaster.

The door to the chamber banged open as Merry came in dropping a curtsey as she struggled with the chamber pot, a porcelain bowl, a wad of linen bunched up under her arm, a pitcher of water and three thorny roses.

“Good morning to you sir”

She exclaimed happily, oblivious to the startled look of the man on the cot.

She lost her grip on the chamber pot sending it scuttling over to the dark corner of the room and didn’t bother to retrieve it, her mind already on her next task, that of the roses in the water.

She sat the porcelain bowl down, splashed some water into it and then proceeded to pluck the roses off the stem one by one, dropping them into the water.

“Oh now, aren’t they pretty. I bet Lady Rayven wanted these in here to cheer you up. Just look at how pretty they are”

Merry tilted the bowl a bit allowing the water to tip over the side unnoticed leaving a puddle on the floor so she could show the man, now staring aghast, at how pretty the petals seemed to float in the water bowl.

She looked at the wad of linen she still had in tucked under her arm and thought for a moment as to what she was suppose to do with it. All she could remember was lips and water.

Well, the man’s lips were chapped all right and she did have all this linen, so she dunked the linen into the water, all the while singing a little tune, as she lifted the soaked material back out prepared to wrap it around his head, making sure it was firmly center on his lips, just like the good lady had asked her to do.

Suddenly she was distracted by a noise in the corridor. Leaving the mass of wet, wadded linen on the side of the cot, she left out the door, closing it behind her.


((Sorry, I just had to interject a wee bit of humor into the situation. I hope Vinzelles recovers from Merry's visit. * L))

[Vinzelles]

(LOL, that hussy....she'll make Vinzelle curse the day he set foot onto these shores *g* )

[Lamont Duchesne]

He quickly put his hand up over her head to stay the closing door, his face a mask of stern disapproval at her mindless treatment of Vinzelles . . though it belied a stiffled inner smile at her innocence. He watched her scurry off in terror at his withering look, and turned to enter the room with a slight shake of his head in amusement.

Gently, he freed Vinzelles bed from the sodden fabric, and looked down into his friend's eyes. "How bad, Vinzelles? It appeared the worst bout I've seen you suffer . . Can you sit up?"

He circled his arms around behind and under Vinzelles' back to help him upwards, slowly . . wary of his unpredictable stomach and worried at how wrung out he seemed this time. "You usually recover quite quickly . . *Smiling slightly as the councillor weaved and nodded, not letting go of his embrace quite yet* "I think perhaps you frightened our hosts a little, my friend . . What timing . .

[Vinzelles de Sennis]

Vinzelles smiled thankfully when he saw the scatter-brained maid being replaced by his trusted friend Lamont. After he had been helped up into a sitting position, the Frankish councillor took a sip of the water from the goblet next to his cot, gulping it down in one long gulp, then looking back at Lamont, shaking his head slowly.

“Qui, an attack never left me so weak. Maybe it was the food. I never could stomach foreign food well. Or maybe they’re becoming so desperate as to use poison.” Vinzelles chuckled, this last suggestion was merely voiced as a jest. “I have frightened them, you say? I am more concerned about how many saw me like this. You know how people can be…. Suspicion can easily raise its ugly head, you know what they say about the falling disease? A sign that its bearer is possessed by the devil …”

Vinzelles became quiet for a moment, taking a piece of wet linen to wash his face with. “To them we are the devils, Lamont. They may smile at us, serve us food and drink, but in the shadows they are only waiting to draw their daggers and stab us from behind! Like their Viking friends would if they were given free reign here. That is why we are here… to prevent that from happening!”

He scooted closer to the edge of the cot, thereby gently dislodging Lamont’s caring embrace. Taking a deep breath, he motioned for his friend to get up and stand right before him. “Let’s see how well my feet will hold up!” To get up was harder than he would have wished, but Vinzelles managed, grabbing both Lamont’s shoulders, smiling weakly. “See? Almost ready to face you in a spar again. I still need to give you back his little present!” He cocked his head, indicating the cut on his left arm. The arm hurt, as if the wound had become infected. Could his stomach troubles have anything to do with that scratch? He shook his head slightly, then pointed to a chair standing across from he small cot. “Help me get over there, will you?” His right arm draped across Lamont’s shoulder, the pair slowly made their way over to the chair into which Vinzelles let himself sink, feeling drained already. There was a second chair, he bid Lamont to take it.

“Have you any new about what has been going on in the harbour? Any news about our men north and south fo here? And… I need to speak with you about Trechanoux. He is troubling and could jeopardise our mission here. But first – tell me what you have learned about our situation here.”

[Rayven]

The ripe tang of late summer scented the room as I breathed in the air that blew in from the open window. The sun was slanted on the flagstone floor of the Chancellor’s room giving its interior a warm appearance.

His face was still pale and he looked thinner and taller than he had when I had met him in the Great Hall a week ago, but he seemed to be holding his own, the ginger tea seemed to have settled his stomach queasiness.

I still saw distrust in his eyes, especially when I poured him a cup the tea. I took a sip from the rim of another cup to assure him that it was indeed safe to drink.

The scratch on his arm had me concerned, for it was red and swollen.

I paused at the door, letting my eyes survey the room, making sure all was in order. The chamber pot had been found and placed under his cot, there was a linen compress freshened with rose water lying on the small table next to a pitcher of fresh water.

I nodded to myself with the distant sense of a task well done and left the Chancellor with his companion Lamont. I would be back later to tend that scratch.

[Rayven]

I mounted the stairs once more, my hand on resting on my back as I climbed. I stood before the door, swallowing that same frisson of distrust I had the first time I had been summoned to his chamber.

I put aside my irritation and knocked gently upon the burnished wood of the door. The door opened and suddenly I found myself staring into the eyes of Vinzelles companion, Lamont. Buried deep within their sockets, his eyes blazed with a fanatical fire and I found myself unconsciously taking a step back.

I-I’ve come to check on that infected scratch I stammered

I was let inside the room, the clack of the door latch signifying the closing of the door behind me. I felt a spurt of distaste at their careful smile and watchful eyes.

I approached Vinzelles and took out a small pot of salve made of cypress and elecampane mixed together. One would provide protection against further infection; the other was used to numb any discomfort one might feel.

I did not look at his face while I applied the salve. I did manage to apologize for Merry’s behavior that morning, stating that she meant well, she just gets distracted easily.

Finishing my task I rose up from my chair, leaving the small pot of salve on the nearby table and asked him to apply it to his cut several times a day.

I felt both sets of eyes on me as I walked to the door. I turned briefly and waited to see if there was anything else he needed.

[Vinzelles de Sennis]

Without a word Vinzelles let the woman apply the slave and instruct him as to its further use. He didn’t feel well in her company, her dislike for him almost palatable. She seemed to view him as if he was an animal. At the Frankish court, a woman like that would be educated properly if she exhibited such cocky and immodest behaviour.

“Thank you, Milady! I am confident I can apply the salve as you have instructed. And next time … do not bother to send in that maid Merry, even I could take care of myself with less incompetence than that wench!” He inclined his head a little. “Please, leave us now, we have… many things to discuss, Milady!”

Vinzelles looked at Lamont, rubbing his temples. He still felt tired, slightly nauseated…. Out of his elements. If his body had forsaken him, he was still in commands of this expedition. And for that he needed information. “Lamont, you said the king granted you permission to check out the harbour and what went on there? Do so, and take that twit Trechanoux with you. I’d ask you to lose him, if it was at all convenient, but…. Ah, just tell me what the situation is!”

A smile graced his lips, and his hand reached for Lamont’s arm. “We will succeed, somehow. You’re a good fried, I will count on you, Lamont!”

Vinzelles hoped his friend would find out anything useful about the harbour situation so that he could make further plans since negotiations clearly had failed with this dolt of a king.

[Lamont Duchesne]

Lamont was adept at keeping his emotions out of his eyes, a skill that came in useful in not only diplomacy, but much of life. But it took much to do so now, his worry at seeing Vinzelles yet so weak this long after one of his spells.

"Yes, truth and right always prevail, Vinzelles. Our cause cannot fail. They are blinded by the corroding influence of the Norse that have wormed their way into their home. Soon they will understand we are right, and wish our help in ridding them of the Viking plague."

He watched dispassionately as the Healer plied her trade, though in truth he mentally tucked away the ingredients she mentioned, thinking to suggest such to his own upon their return, if it indeed worked as she'd claimed. Waiting until she left, he spoke again,

"I've learned precious little, Vinzelles, and distrust what I have managed to hear of." A rare glint appeared in his eyes. "I'll take that loudmouthed fool with and see if there is any truth to the rumors. I'm sure it's dangerous . . even for one of our own. One could get . . lost quite easily, perhaps?"

Rising to leave, he turned back and tapped two fingers on his friend's shoulder, an almost affectionate gesture. " It may take a few hours. Use the time wisely and rest. Lock the door firmly. We've enjoyed their protection thus far, yet I am loathe to trust them for much longer, Vinzelles . . "

[Vinzelles de Sennis]

„Do your best, Lamont!“ Vinzelles smiled, knowing his friend would understand his encouragement in the right way. “I will be staying here until you’ll return. After which… we will have to see. Manassier and Corréze should be here by now, if things look bad for us, we still have them to fall back upon. And we have Lhun!”

He watched as Lamont bowed towards him on his way out, and then let himself sink deeper into the chair he was sitting in. Rubbing his temples again, he started to worry – why was this last attack so hard on him? Granted, at the age of 43 Vinzelles knew many regarded him as being at a ripe old age, but he still felt sharp in his mind. If only his body would cooperate. Maybe it was the damn food they had been served, he wasn’t so sure any longer.

Standing up finally, the Frankish Councillor began to pace the room, then sat down onto his bed, picking up a bible that lay on his side table. He had always found peace from reading the sacred writings. Maybe it would help him now to pass away the time until Lamont would return – hopefully with not so bad news.

[Dream Loxley]

(( Knows I am in several places at once *L* forgive me but I relish a challenge ))

*She turned the corner as she walked the corridor......eager to get back to the kitchens and speak with cook of the weeks menus. The stocks moved to another room were still in tact...dry and vermin free as far as she could tell. The key was safely within her pocket and as yet they had managed without any going hungry.

Deep in thought, she was suprised to come across Emily holding a pile of freshly laundered linens and simply standing outside one of the guest rooms. It was obvious the girl was anxious and unsure what to do. She curtsied to the Chatelaine and mumbled about the foreign man they say be the devil behind the door. Dream raised a brow and at first did not understand....but Emily was trembling now and backed away slightly from the door. Suddenly it all made sense....this was one of the rooms given to the French men....she had nodded then and placed a finger to her lips to still Emily's whispered words.*

"I shall take them Emily....nae fret....why not see iffn ye can pick me some fresh flowers aye.....these corridors need a little brightness ye think."

*She reached out and gathered the linens from the servant and smiled softly to reassure her....but deep inside she felt uneasy herself in the presence of these men. She whispered to Emily before the girl turned quickly and slipped away.*

"These be visitors here...what ye may think...stays in ye mind aye...nae let ye tongue find those thoughts again....at least until they be gone"

*She took a deep breath and held the linens in front of her....standing straight to show she was calm and composed...although she felt her heart skip as she knocked quite loudly upon the oak door.*

"M'Lord Sennis.....are ye awake...?"

[Rayven]

((you would have caught me leaving his room just then..*L Good luck, he's one to watch out for))