|
|
Post by Ned on Sept 5, 2004 5:51:29 GMT -5
*Ned sighed and took a rag from his pocket, lifting it to wipe the sweat from his face. It was hot, the sun was not being kind to those who toiled here today, and yet, if it rained, even then there would be nothing to smile about. He pushed the rag back where it belonged and took a moment...leaning upon his spade as he looked about the Graveyard.
Men of all ages were digging, eight in total and still they knew not the total number of graves needed. All they were told was that they were to be final resting places for the foreigners who perished in the seige. Ned believed in the Almighty and therefore each body he helped to bury would be thought no less of....his God told of all being equal. He would forgive them as the Great Book dictated. It would be hard though...he knew that too.
Just then he was grateful for the distraction of Emily lifted a ladle full of cool water towards him. He smiled at her and held the ladle in place whilst he sipped from it. Nodding his approval he told her it was just what he needed and winked as she refilled it. It was not long before young Perran with his twinkling eyes and mop of curls was beside her. Thirsty work it was, and there were still many daylight hours to work yet. Supper and eventual rest would be welcomed this day....they all agreed as they took a moment's rest from what must be the worst job in the lands......in any lands at that.*
|
|
|
|
Post by Lady Edfeil on Sept 7, 2004 14:15:12 GMT -5
*She came to visit herself. Last time she and the other ladies had to take this sad duty upon them, since none of the men could be spared. The quiet work was a grimm one, for each of the mounds of earth aside a deepening hole would cover the body of a man. A man who had family or friends. A man with a wife who'ld nae see him again. A man with a child that would grow without knowing his father. Wether they be Frank or English, Edfeil knew Ned to be aware of the dead and the grief they left behind.
Quietly she moved closer as they took a moment repose. Summer had been changing in weather all day, but the first days of autumn seemed to anounce themselves with warm sun and golden light. A strange contrast to the task.*
Hard work... *she remarked, to break the silence as she felt the gaze of the men upon her.* Hard and sad work...
|
|
|
|
Post by Ned on Sept 9, 2004 10:02:52 GMT -5
"Aye indeed MiLady"
*Ned bowed as low as his old bones would allow, his face flushed from the heat and weathered with age. He felt his back complaining as he straightened again....placing a leathery hand to his hip as if to make sure everything was in its rightful place.*
"But yers should nae be in this place MiLady.........'tis nae a place fer a Princess. Best yers be gettin' back now.....we just have to finish up here then 'tis a good meal we shall look forward to."
*He tried to smile...... to show her this was but another job...much as digging the rose beds......but he knew it was nothing like that. There was no pleasure in this kind of digging.....no fruits of blooms to come from it.....just a silence as the grass would grow and cover the dirt. Eventually nothing would be evident.....only grass or bare earth if the rains stayed away.
He sighed and was grateful as Emily started towards the Princess......she would walk with her she said......take her back where she belonged.
He wondered then if she would know and dipped his head as he asked the question.*
"Do ye know how many we 'as to dig fer MiLady?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Lady Edfeil on Sept 13, 2004 15:26:31 GMT -5
*Emily walked with her... offering to lead her away. 't was nae that they nae wanted her here, but ... somehow they seemed to believe she should be spared of this. Mayhap 't was her health that worried them, or mayhap 't was a new barrier the gift she had accepted from her father put up. Last time... last time she had put the shovel in the frozen ground herself while battle raged against the walls. She remembered the task Ned undertook now and send him a look of sympathy afore allowing Emily to lead her back, nae wishing to bring them discomfort in a work that was one of charity and yet one of the most painful ever to do.
*Neds voice halted her for a moment and she turned shaking her head in apology* I nae know, Ned... Of Windstorm... we've lost more than a score to be certain, mayhap even two. The Franks have suffered more losses though, but some will nae be given back by the sea I fear. We must find a priest for a blessing of the waters again... M'lady Rayven... she would know how many be lost in the infirmary. And mayhap Lord Sighehelm would know how many of the Franks will be mourned.
|
|
|
|
Post by Ned on Sept 14, 2004 4:13:08 GMT -5
*He sighed deeply......more than he had expected.....far too many gone he thought...far too many. Bowing his head in respect to her...he turned and frowned towards the empty graves.......not enough...not nearly enough he said.
Young Perran began to dig again......harder and with more vigour...his anger at losing so many men gave him more strength and his shovel lifted a pile of soil up onto the growing mound beside him. He just glanced at Norman, another lad from the stables....and no words were spoken as they continued with the task in hand.
Ned praised them all........but knew they would need help if they were to finish the digging in time. He could only nod to the others as he started again......thrusting the spade into the ground and placing a booted foot upon it, he pushed down hard to slice into the earth. Above him several seagulls screeched high on the wing........he felt a shiver as it seemed even the ground beneath him cried out in pain.*
|
|
|
|
Post by Thierry on Sept 14, 2004 7:22:52 GMT -5
Thierry, sailor from the Goélette, was standing over one of the finished graves he had just dug. It had taken him a good hour, sweat had formed on his brow, his naked upper torso, arms and hands smeared with dirt and grime. Lord Lamont certainly had no idea how many had died; how many had sunk dead to the ground of the oceans.
Thierry had tried to escape, but his captors were too clever. Too vigilant. That’s why he was here now, digging the graves for his comrades. Looking over he saw young lads not too far from him doing the same, likely for their own fallen. How many had died on their side, Thierry wondered. “Hopefully more than on ours!” His thought remained silent though.
Would they burry the cursed Vikings here as well? “J'espère que ces porcs du nord ne seront pas creusés dedans ici aussi bien! (I hope those Northern pigs are not buried here as well)” Glares were cast his way, and for the moment Thierry only shot a very dirty – literally and figuratively – glanze back at them.
|
|
|
|
Post by Sinold Bragasson on Sept 27, 2004 2:57:06 GMT -5
Oppsy
|
|
|
|
Post by Lamont Duchesne on Sept 27, 2004 2:57:54 GMT -5
It was a grueling task to dig the graves for all the fallen frank soldiers and sailors. A good 400 men had fallen to the onslaught from Vikings and Windstorm defenders, but each one of those made Lamont cringe as he watched over the Frank prisoners who dug at a steady pace for the past two weeks. A priest had been called from the Goélette, to give the dead men a last blessing. How many women were left without a husband? How many maids without their promised husbands and lovers?
Lamont thought back to the words of the Viking, that the families of their deceased would be cared for. The Frank families would not be granted any help, would not be given any monetary compensation for their loss. It was their duty to give their sons to the Frankish king, and know that if they died, their fathers, brothers, sons and lovers had fallen for the right cause. Reward would be granted to the dead alone, as they would sit with their Father…. Need there be any other reward for any man?
The digging went on for a few more days, most of the graves only marked by simple wooden crosses without names. For those whose names were known, one of the soldiers, a man named Jamé, told them to Lamont, who in turn wrote them out in clear script onto a piece of parchment, giving that parchment to those who would eventually carve the name into the cross board of their crosses.
After the last dead Frank was buried, Lamont called upon some of the Windstorm guards, and marched then survivors back to the harbor and the Viking commander. The men he marched back were not the same who had started on this expedition. They were broken, some had openly wished that they would soon join their dead comrades. Lamont had to give those few a rather harsh talk, even though he himself didn’t quite believe in the words of encouragement and threat he told them.
When they had finally arrived in the harbor, in front of the Goélette, the Frank leader dismounted and walked to the plank which lead onboard the Frank flag ship.
“Norse! I have brought back the prisoners, as I had promised. Our dead are buried … give my men food and water, unless you wish for even more to die!”
|
|
|
|
Post by Ned on Sept 27, 2004 7:43:14 GMT -5
*The old man wiped the cloth over his face and then his hands, he looked at them a while, turning both hands over in turn, the skin wrinkled with age and the sun. He had lived longer than any of these men buried here......and with God's grace, he would live a while yet. His head shook in dismay as he stuffed the soiled rag back into his pocket....such a waste he thought.... such a waste.
He had watched the foreigners, and stayed until each man had been buried, returning only to the Castle to sleep and eat.....it was his duty he felt.....to give the dead a proper farewell. Both the French clergyman and their own Priest had done their job well enough, but there was still so much hatred shown from those men, Ned could not understand it. Nobody asked them to come here, nobody asked them to start a battle they would surely lose. What had they gained.....he wondered again as he lifted his shovel from its own resting place by the small gate. Shaking his head again, he started to leave the graveyard, closing the gate behind him, making a mental not to fix the latch when he had a moment.
His work here was done for now.....Hector carried the list of names to be carved....the French man had been quite insistant, adamant that each of his men would be remembered properly. Between them, Ned and Hector had assured him, gesturing with their hands and trying to make sense of the foreign words spoken. You can trust us M'Lord...they had said.....your men will be treated the same as any fallen here....you have our word. They had bowed as the man left, followed by the rest of his men......it was not their place to make judgement nor decide the fate of others, but they hoped those living would go back home where they belonged.
Tired and pensive.....both men walked the track towards the Castle, glancing back to the graveyard one last time....mumbling about death and honour......deciding that afterwards...all that was left was a bag of bones no matter what...no matter who. It was Hector who changed the tone as he patted Ned upon his stooped back.*
"Methinks a few ales to wash the dirt from our mouths aye.....ye looks like yers be in great need old man." He chuckled and grinned.....then nodded his head as if to agree with himself on a job well done.*
|
|
