The saga continues: The pebble and the Rock

[SighehelmofKent]

-He sits in at the table in the main hall and writes, slow deliberate. His writing hand, the left, somewhat hampered by the grazed knuckles, be it thought the small wounds heal swiftly-

My Liege, my beloved Brother,

As ever our Dove has a will of her own and is hard to guide. I awaited her arrival where I said goodbye to you, the large boulder affording me time to think, and reflect. Darkness was near when a worried heart made me venture slightly ahead, cursing fate itself. Just when I had decided to return, Haedrian, Sadhbh's paige ran up the path FROM the castle.

Our sister had already safely arrived, as appeared later, following a different path as they had met with some trouble. The captain of the guards tells me a carriage overturned, a village deserted. I have ordered Sab to be escorted at all times. Yet his presence will consist of only him, or Edwin. More would constitute an insult to King Stormblade. The Lady Elizabeth complains that the Dove has nae enough clothes to dress accordingly. She includes a list of more to be sent. She states mother will know what she means. Do you think I have to request another room for the Littl’un, just for her personal belongings?

A young woman, Becca will be added to the entourage of Sadhbh, to tend to her garments personally. Sadhbh has taken it upon herself to care for this little whelp. I am sure she will involve the help of the Lady Aethelbred, as delicate fact has surfaced. Becca is with child, the father unknown to us.

With this message I have included a labour of love, fox of Kent; a gift for Marianne, by the hand of the pebble, The Princess Edfeil of Windstorm. This lady amazes me often; her sweet dedication, her kindness, her thoughtfulness. This week she baked us a Kent Honeybread.

-he hesitates his writing, whishing to chose the right words-

We have spoken of gems and pebbles, dear brother. As we have also discussed the zealous nature of many that are close to the Princess' heart. Of late it, this very attitude by many has directed my foot away from her, her beauty, her kind heart. And I know as I do I will make true on what her father fears most in any man; that he will hurt his daughter. As such the king is the Princess’ greatest enemy. For it pains my heart to see those around the Princess suffocate her as much as they do, as such never allowing the beautiful bloom in bud to flower.

I chose to let my manners and nature be governed with aloof approach. This consciously choice will be evident to her I fear. Yet I hope it will bring nothing but wonder to a kind and tender heart. I have been at Windstorm to little to allow the Princess to see me as anything but a mere friend, which I will remain to be, ad infinitum.

Yet, know my brother, my heart will remain dedicated to the woman I see, and hear every day. This feeling unknown to me for any woman afore, that you tell me must be love. A feeling never nurtured from the arranged marriage with the late Lady Siobhan of Kent - nae MacGrault; a feeling vastly different from what I feel for The Lady Aethelbred of Kent, or the Lady Sadhbh of Kent. A feeling that at times makes me wish for the wounds of battle, for their pain is easier to bear; easier then these feeling that governs my flesh, my heart, my soul.

Know, that for a time I had not thought it unwise nor unnecessary to leave, for I believed that time could work in my favour, and my intentions seen as true, and without harm. Yet, I have never in my life been confronted with this wall of distrust, as it feels to me at times much akin to disrespect. As things are, were it not you had instructed me to protect the Dove, and travel for her not desirable, I would have been tempted to travel again myself. You have in fact, tied my feet, My Liege. They cannot wander home, nor can they wander on. I will remain, as you order instructs me, and my heart tells me, to escort our sister, protect her, keep her.

My eyes to scrutinise all strangers that enter Windstorm. Edwin has been instructed well, as have the six that travelled with him. None will bring harm to our sister, this I promise Righarde, upon our mirrored blood, the blood of Kent.

We will both await news from you, and the words we both yearn for, in which you allow us to return home to Kent. Until that time I will remain here at Windstorm, as long as King Agustin Stormblade will allow us, my pride will allow me. If we need travel again, I will send word.

Through honor, bound to God,



Sighehelm of Kent

[SighehelmofKent]

-He takes off his boots, they constrict his feet, and he much prefers to walk bare footed. The summertime nae agrees with him well. His leather armour too heavy, his weapons to cumbersome it seems. These times of comparative peace, away from Kent, make him pace like a caged animal in his cell.

Yet not many would notice such. It would be an insult to his host, as the home he offers others, even if it is for just a while, is a blessing. And yet he paces. He feels irritated anger at his weaknesses. How is it that she has managed to bewitch his thoughts, his dreams. How is it that the merest thought of her makes him want to walk from his room and find her. Even if it was just to watch her tend to the herb garden, pick flowers, speak to Mollie and Millie, to the ladies of Windstorm......or....her father. How is it he envies each and every one of them, wishes to be .one of them. Close enough to justify frequent visits, laughter and nonsensical banter with her?

And yet....it is not who he is, not who must be. The king’s aversion to him, or better yet to all men displaying an interest in his daughter, quells his acts. He has no home, no land to offer, just a true heart, a strong arm, and keen mind.

How often these past few weeks had he cursed his decision to forfeit the throne of Kent. He could have offered her the garden of England, and watch her walk among his people, see the magic of her smile work its way. He grins and shakes his head, mocking the fool he is. His choices are made and he would not have changed them, for they have brought him where he is............near her.

With that he sits and writes a letter to squire Dunstin at home-

--------------------------------------------------

Dunstin,

You will prepare Ra to travel to Windstorm. I desire him here. I will send word when he is to travel.

You will accompany him.

Through honour, bound to God


Sighehelm of Kent

[Righarde]

*word had come from Windstorm at last and Righarde was much pleased with Sadhbhs safe arrival and his siblings good health.

Laughter fell and he slapped his hand hard against his knee at the thought of the big man of Kent being bound hand and food.

With a hand cast in dried blood he took to write then stopped. Looking at his hands brought recent grave memories to his mind. Soberly he continued*

My dearest Brother,

My hope is that this letter finds you both well. I know that I have driven a stake and tethered you to it but tell me brother, what am I to do?. Who can I trust more than you. Sadhbh is still too young to know the true nature of the world and the naive I hear still roams the land. Word of his death has proven false. Would that I had the wormtongue who spoke such lies!

*a moment he paused and took more ink from the well*

I also write to you of Sinold. He spoke of Windstorm so I imagine that he is the same man we spoke of. He had come across wolves that were more than his match thus he and his horse lay resting in our house. He first thought that I was you and still he spoke of appreciating the help I gave. Tell me brother, what should I do with him?. Tis but good manners that keeps me from turning the man out. I too will think on it.

Tell me, how is the King and his daughters fair?. I can imagine by your words that Lady Edfeil is well yet I ask also of the good Lady Beren. Is she well, is she happy?.

I find myself thinking of the noble Lady and when my councilmen speak of marriage I tend to compare the choices to her and to our dear Mother. It has fairly annoyed our Council tis certain.

What other news?, Marianne is well and she sends her love to you. I have thought of a plan that may give credence to your return here. I would speak first to you in private of this idea for these wall surely bear the ears of the enemy.

Again Kent is fraught with pending danger. Our neighbouring county, thinking us soft had tried to maraude our village. T'was but for the Grace of God and the goodly speed of our horse that stopped our foe before he did all too much damage. The enemy limped back home soundly trashed. Tis with regret that we lost some good men. Our cousin Gerard was among them. He and his loyal sword will be missed. Pray, gently let Dove know.

Onto more noble news, has Mother arrived?. Is she safe or has she taken the high road as our dearest Sister. Perhaps your tether will be eased with the presence of our Mother.

In time, I anxiously await your news with an eager ear. I pray that you will remain safe and well.

Through Honour, Bound to God

Righarde

[SighehelmofKent]

My liege, my brother,

You bring news that makes me chuckle, and yet when I think on the hearts of many a woman that will suffer for it, I know such will not do. The man called Sinold is a fool and a coward. He would touch the weapons of a Kent prince without consent, and then take to taunting, while he knows my hands within Windstorm are restricted. Yet, he is loved, and chivalry dictates you tend to his wounds. I will not breathe of his plight, but will instead tell all he has decided to travel to Kent to stay a while, his travels having thus fatigued him.

As for the health of the ladies I ask tit for tat. Is Marianne well, does the Lark still sing? There be nae discomfort, and she is tended well? You tell me she is well, and yet how is it mother leaves at a time when she is needed most! It worries me, and makes my heart ache, a feared the child has died, or worse. I pace these rooms, caged like an animal, and visions of Siobhan dying in my arms fill my head. Oh God, please tell me it is not so! I pray every day, that He may not take what He gifted me 15 summers ago; that the Lord will not take her as He robbed me of her mother

The Princess is well, though a strange affliction of fatigue seems to run rampant among the ladies like a cursed phantom. The Dove has warned me such can be of non natural causes, and bound my honour to keeping an eye on all the Princess eats. I try, but I see less and less of her, as she sleeps often, and spends more time in seclusion.
The Lady de Lune seems well brother, and your words make me smile. It is good you seek a wife again. Yet I pray thee not within Windstorm. Chose any of the neighbouring lands to pick the fruit of, but do nae cast your eyes upon the Windstorm gems. Mine are on, as she puts it herself, a pebble and it feeds my heart with pain and bliss ever minute of my stay. There is much that the eye cannot see within this keep, and it puzzles me.

Was it not the Lady Erin McGrault which last caught your eye? She is a fine choice, brother; a lass with strength in her lineage and her heart. She adores the ground you walk on, and has as long as her youthful eyes have been clasped upon you. She has wide hips, and will bear you many a healthy child. Yours is now the responsibility to further the Kent line, while mine is to roam in exile. When will this accursed absence from my own Kent be lifted from me brother! Sadhbh and me watch the hills east oft, and sigh with homesickness. Your plans I very much wish to hear, yet if they speak hiding who I am, and living a lie within my own home, I swear you had best not put that plan forward to me, of I will make your face hurt with the force of my fist!

Our sister proves to be quite a handful. Her eye upon one of the servants here, I have employed one by the name of Becca. I greatly desire mother’s eye upon this one, as she is with child. The father is a man that needed, it seems, some coaxing as to taking the girl’s hand in marriage. As be heaves the House of Kent, I have explained the options of his position to this slow knight, and indicated the marriage shall take place afore the next Sunday, to which he agreed. I pray this one at least bolts after he has said “aye” instead of afore.

Before I close I ask thee to send the Master Dunstin to ride with haste and join the party of mother. The king has nae consented yet to sending for four of our hunting birds, but I assume he will not stop me from housing Sadhbh’s minstrel, as well as my Ra. As a gift I wish to find Lucifer and Evabelle among the charge of our Master of the Mews. AND I will have nae witticism from you about sending for Evabelle. I am sure Master Dunstin will pepper my temper enough as is. I believe the gifting of this bird is as it should be, as God intended it, if I am wrong, I am wrong, dear brother.

All is prepared to welcome the Queen of Kent, and my heart rejoices to see the beloved Robin of Kent soon, so soon. Be well brother, fight strong!

Through honour, bound to God


Sighehelm of Kent

[Righarde]

my Brother,

Sighehelm, you have news indeed. I had not known of this mans slight and I shall watch this man all the more ardently for it. As you know no harm will pass the man in the house of Kent yet it is not easy to forget your words of his insulting nature.

Onto tidier news, have no fear, Marianne is safe and well. Would Mother leave the side of her Grand daughter at this time if aught were wrong? Believe me, the Lark still sings in the morning and her joyous heart fills the castle with pleasing melodies. Her words and spirit I am glad to share with all. She has fairly soothed our hearts of your absence and the absence of the many men who fell some days back. So, do not worry, God be Good, he would not allow your child to suffer.

I hear that you still bear an affection for your Lady still. I am pleased for you and I hope that some spark of happiness will endure between you both. I myself some day hope to marry but not those the Council speak of. I see your words of Lady McGrault is sound yet I wonder of such affection. She has a strong bearing true enough for birthing children yea I wonder if she would be a suitable Queen for Kent and if Lady Aethelbred would be pleased with her company. Lord I pray that whomever I choose does not learn the subtle ways our Mother has found to guide us.

As you know the Councilmen have spoke of many and they have tried to lead my eye toward Lady Boadica whom you know. You remember her well when she and her Father both visited nigh five years back. She is the sole heir of their land true yet how could they think of such a small lady. I would not touch her for fear of snapping her in twain.
As you see our search goes quietly on.

As for Sadhbh, all I can do is smile. It seems brother that that I have brought a young vixen into your henhouse. I hope that her eyes do not grow too hungry.
Now Dunstin is another matter, I shall send him anon the moment he is free. He is nursing some newly hatched chicks and will have no other tend them till they are a day or so older. It seems brother that our land is a bloom with life.

I leave you with all affection and respect.

Through Honour, Bound to God

Righarde

[SighehelmofKent]

My Liege, my brother

I write to you with concern.

Concern that the one named Sinold still remains within our home. As a loyal subject to the house of Kent, and your brother, I advise you, nae beg you to send him home. There is trouble afoot within these walls. Trouble that I believe none of Kent should be a party of, AND all of Windstorm should be a part of. I ask you if mother has yet departed to send our fastest rider, and find her, escort her away from these lands. I will ride out and seek her as far as your word allows me to travel.

I have nae heard a word from the Princess, I fear she is gravely ill, and as my time takes me away from the halls, the talk and the gossip, I fail to know what ails her. As such I fail our dear sister in keeping a watchful eye. She speaks her concern and aids as mother taught her, yet she is not of this court. I find Windstorm asks none or little of any who travel here, who are given shelter. And therein lies the rub, as not knowing will never incite trust; and even if it does, such trust can easily be shattered.

And so this is my greatest concern, brother. You and I know loyalty is easily bought. And as such many around me could turn against the House of Windstorm. I fear that the remnants of suspicion, doubts and concern about who I am, and what I am doing here, will indeed flare up, and hospitality will grow thin. More so I wonder if they are indeed remnants, for I fear they were never truly laid aside. This I cannot subject Sadhbh to. And I seek your advice, your command. If it is so desired, we can travel to many lands, should Kent not be able to open her doors to us yet.

Where I alone I would stay and assist in whatever ails this country, prove what makes Kent strong and thriving . Yet as it is I fear my arm can not defend the Dove of Kent and lend assistance to the King of Windstorm. Yet, should you command me so, I will seek the king and offer him my arm, my sword and my tactical skills, should such be needed, yet what of Sadhbh, what of our beautiful Dove? My heart worries...... I find it is torn, between the Loyalty to you, my King, my house, my kin and one within these walls. One that could tempt me walk away from all I hold dearly and invoke the Lord's wrath and your anger, my brother. I fear the choices made could prove much of what is being said and whispered into your ear by many nobles and stewards within Kent about me. All their words proved by one act. Every day I pray the Lord never ever puts me before that one choice. For either path I chose would tare my heart and destroy it.

I ask you also for word of Marianne, for I can count brother and know she is close to 8 moons now. Send me comforting words, words of her continued health, and if the Lord allows of a child born of Kent blood, a healthy child...just one child. The birth of yet another mirror is not something I would wish to impart on any mother, or on any child.

You are and always will be my greatest blessing, my greatest curse. I await your reply eagerly.

Through honour, bound to God


Sighehelm of Kent

[Righarde]

My Brother and beloved friend,

I can see the turbulance in your words speak much of the truth. I fear that much of the unrest in Kent is nothing compared to what is thought to be prepared to sound out WindStorms defences. I have sent for Lady Aethelbred to return and I also open my doors to both you and our sister. Since the troubles on the borders, inner conflict seems to have calmed. All Kent is becoming unified brother!. Happy am I for it means that peace is once more within our grasp. Lord Leonard has gone to the Lord; God Rest him; and so the factions against my rule have come asunder.

Sir Bragasson Is being tended to still but I shall give him word of the troubles and he shall be sent home with guard to Windstorm as soon as his health can endure it. It would not do for one sword to be left in a comfortable bed. I hope this would please you and the kin he leaves behind.

I pray that the Dove is not all too difficult, she shall return home soon with the Lords Goodwill and my mens good tracking. I cannot go into many details but we have come to find Beaus last whereabouts. This minute my men are riding hard to catch the fiend who continues to plague Kent. I know now that a King who is gentle with the enemy is open to further attacks. I shall not forget my lesson all to easily.
And now you know the truth of it. Hope sings in the hearts of all in Kent and I pray that I shall bear sound news for both my dear siblings.
Another thought worries me, this morning Sadhbh sent word of your disappearance. She seemed much distraught and spoke of riding out to find your trail. She will be eased by your return yet caution her that she must be more careful in future. A young lady guarded by a single man is in no way safe on the roads these days.
Also, it would perhaps be prudent if Dove did not offer her services in healing so freely. She is not so well trained as Mother and it would not do should Lady Edfeil be seen to be uncomfortable through one of Kents known remedies. If it is as you say a place where trust is easily torn. Then it is wise for all to be on their guard.
As for you offering your arm in these conflicts; I give you my blessing and hope that you will return home safe and well. And should Kent come to find peace reign on its lands once more, I shall send with all good intention what aid I can. From what I have learned from my counsellors, Windstorm is ruled by a fair King. I would do what I could for him if he would accept. Ye will know two days hence from now as to whether Kent should be on the road to quieter times.

Then it is my hope that I can open my lands to you, Sadhbh and those who would seek the hospitality of Kent.

Marianne, ah now we have the crux of it, she grows every day and has become quite slow in her walk. Lady McGrault has become quite indispensible in the matter of her care and I have come to rely on her in the affairs of the household. She is a fine Lady as you say. She and your daughter send their best and hope that you do not worry all too much. It would not do for one Mirror of Kent to grow grey with worry.

I remain with respect your good brother and constant friend,

Through Honour, Bound to God

Righarde

[SighehelmofKent]

My dearest Mother and Queen of my heart,

I hope you are well. Righarde tells me that Kent may finally come to rest. His strong arm and wise leadership have indeed accomplished what we had hoped for. So many plans made when we were but children. Many which we have not shared with you……..or father.

I hope with all my heart you have forgiven what seems like a coward running from his home, his heart, his lands and destiny. I have always known mine was not the place to take upon me the honour thrust on my shoulders. Righarde is a more worthy King then I would have ever been. His smile has entranced many a lady, and made many a man bow his head in respect.

When King Charles the Silent died, my father, your betrothed, my feet led me away from Kent, and every day my heart bleeds. I miss the valleys, the beaches, the hunt and the people. But above all I miss my family, mother. I miss your voice that corrects me, teaches me, and teases me. I worry about my child, and her child. I wish I could see her grow, and speak to Ingram. How I envision him trying to get away from Marianne. She must be like a shrew now. Tell her I miss my Lark, her song in the morning. I even miss her good awful cooking.

We stay at Windstorm, a kind place, a calm place. I hear rumours that worry me greatly though; the safety of the Dove my first concern. She is well and I will include a letter with mine. I am sure she will paint a better picture then I could of this beautiful land.

Now, I hesitate to write upon the matter I encroach on next, for it lives within my heart, and I speak little of these things. Yet for many weeks now it burns like a fire deep within, and I can entrust only one I feel. My heart burns mother, for one within Windstorm. She is the daughter of King Agustin, the Princess Edfeil. She once likened herself to a pebble among gems, and in a way she is right. Her beauty is not in the perfect arch of an eyebrow, nor in the feminine curves that always find a way to a man’s eyes. No Mother, it is in the simple gestures of her hand, the depth of her eyes, as she allows me at times to see her heart. Like an artist who draws on paper so my heart etches this lady’s visage on my soul, so I find myself shackled to the mere smile of her lips. And I hope, and fear greatly it will nea leave me.

And yet mother, this is a choice unwise, one I fear will damage my heart. Her father King Agustin guards his child with zealous dedication, and has shown me his claws many a time. Twice making me step back as his rebuttal is hurled at my head. I cannot fault him. I would guard this lady with even more ardour. She is worthy of his protection. So, I enjoy and suffer to observe with respectful glances the woman that is with me every second of my day, every dream within my night.

I seek your guidance, your word in this. I am but a stumbling fool, and I am almost sure my account brings a smile to your lips, sweet Robin of Kent. Until the time I hear from you, the welfare of my child, the command of my King and brother,

In honour, bound to God

Sighehelm of Kent

[sadhbh]

Myne loving Mother, ,


I write tae ye with all tae love I bear for thee and Kent. I doth miss home in more ways than ye can imagine yea I find Windstorm a delight tae explore. Mother, ye were right, tis a wonder tae see new things and savour new delights. I hath found tae Ladys here most gentile so dinnae worry. I be quite well.

Where doth tae tread start, there be so much tae tell ye, Windstorm hath a pleasing look tae it. Its cliffs and rolling hills be a pleasure tae draw. I enclose some drawings for thee tae see. Tis a noble land, one with pleasant hills and wandering orchards. All seem content here and I feel tae it be almost at home.

Sighehelm be a most attentive brother, he hath seen tae myne safety here though I nae know why he be so worried. From what I hath seen, tae men be quite noble and kind. They respect tae ways of chivalry and tae ways of tae knight. Oh Mother, ye were right, t'was well tae I left tae memories of Kent behind. Little by little Lord Beaufort doth fade from myne memory. This morning I prayed for his soul for Sighehelm hath told me of his honourable death. Mayhap he would find peace in heaven Mother. He hath been Fathers friend and thus myne.
Mother, I miss thy wisdom and gift of healing. I hath found tae tae skills ye passed ontae me be nae lost. I recall some whispers tae oft ye tried tae instill intae me and now I smile.

Now there be little else I can tell ye..except perhaps tae myne love for thee be forever.

I pray ye be all safe. Give myne love tae Righarde. Tell him tae I be as he would have me.

Though tae Love of God

Love

Sadhbh

[SighehelmofKent]

My dearest son,

The trails and tribulations of the land of Windstorm place us in a difficult position. The king of France is most displeased, and word travels to us. Righarde fears that if the Charles is fed enough venom, he will leas his men to Windstorm. My prayers are that should such be the case he will travel by sea. For Righarde tells me, when King Charles of France travels through Kent, he will not stop him, and hospitality will force him to offer the party a welcome.

Kent at this time cannot afford the anger of France, and Righarde assures me our defences will not stand an attack. This my loyal son, means your life and that of The Dove are in jeopardy twofold. Should France travel by land, our hospitality will surely be seen as treachery by King Agustin. Also, whether travelled by land or sea, strife is brought to Windstorm, thus endangering your sister and you.

It is my command as your mother that Sadhbh is to be brought to St. David’s Cathedral, where friar Dunstinraed will welcome you. It will make my worrying lighter to know that she is safe.

Now, for some good news, you are the proud grandfather of a young girl, the Princess Mary of Kent, she is healthy as is your child. The wee lass has a set of lungs that keeps many awake. She is now three days old, and looks much like your departed father. Ingram has forgotten his ardent wish to be the father of a strong son, and cannot keep his eyes from his daughter. Marianna breathes lighter, as no twins were born.

The church seems content too. “Better a lass then a burden of two”, father Michael has been heard to say. Marianne will be up and about in a day or two. The child nae felt much like leaving his mother much, and it was a long and hard struggle. She sends her love and promises to write soon.

Kent still needs a strong son Sighehelm, your son. Your brother tells me of the Princess of Windstorm. Is she stron, wide of hisp son? You should speak to the king, and ask if there is any that courts her now. If not, righarde tells me she is most eligable to produce the fruit of Kent. Strong sons to succeed, for you are still the first in line, your sons second, Rock of Kent.

Righarde tells me I should stop writing as he will add words to mine. I pray every day he will allow you to return, to kiss your face, and see your eyes of slate again. Be strong child of Kent.

Queen Aethelbred of Kent


-the handwriting changes, more masculine, the words more clipped-

Brother, Prince, grandfather!

Your blood has been secured, a lovely girl whose eyes could tempt any man to walk away from his fate. As mother says both mother and child are well, and Ingram, again….his heart overflows with love unabated. I fear he will be little use to me the coming weeks.

Now to the matter of Windstorm and France, mother speaks well, but also of rumours. Naught is certain as of yet. But her word is my command. You will escort Sadhbh to the Cathedral, but I place upon you the choice to bring her back to Windstorm when the time allows. You, my brother will remain Windstorm as a pawn. Should I be forced to allow Charles III free passage over Kent ground, your pledge to protect and keep Windstorm will speak in my favour. Yet I fear it will make your presence in Windstorm strained. Your strong arm can protect many, but I know you chose to protect others before you think of yourself. However my command is should any distrust be placed upon your presence within Windstorm you will join your sister at St. David’s.

I cannot allow you to return to Kent yet, such will need more time. Now I must leave, I must speak to the heirs of Beafort, they arrived yesterday to plead the case of the traitor.

In honour, bound to God

Righarde

[SighehelmofKent]

-His stomach protests violently, and as he sets foot on land, Tyrun's laughter in his ears, he offers the meal he ate at St. David's monastery in gratitude to the Lord for returning his feet to firm soil. The tall man mutters, embarrassed at the unmanly display of weakness. He lifts himself from the awkward position and looks at the man that travels as well on by ship on the sea as Sighehelm travels by horse on land-

This lady of you is merciless Captain. I nae have love for the sea......now even less. I hold you to the promise to ride the Kent Great with me. It will be ….rewarding to see you suffer atop one of the Great. I will even allow you to ride sweet Petite.

- He presses a large hand to his abdomen, his face pale as a sheet and he growls as a wave of nausea forces itself upon the man. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve and steps back, a boy steps forward holding Petite's reigns-

Thank you boy.

-He straightens, ignoring the need to crouch and alleviate the feeling that tempts him to spill all in an attempt to expel the devil within. For now he decides to walk, and grunts as the laughter of the good captain lingers, and he looks over his shoulder, a strong man, shorter in size, but as strong or even stronger in limbs, stands wide legged aboard the sloop called The Eagle, unable to stop laughing. The same man who sails like a maniac. A man who admits he likes the challenge of getting there as fast as possible; a man who travelled 50 sea leagues in one single day. Sighehelm shakes his head, walks away annoyed, a hand raised in greeting. It is all he can muster for now. He walks, straight, bust slow, the nauseas in his stomach sits firmly, and Petite whinnies sensing the affliction of the tall Lord, and for once does not press to move faster. Sighehelm releases the reigns and he places both hands on his back, traversing the land slowly, his eyes attentive, talking to the horse as if the animal has the gift of speech.-

We will have to miss her petite, but she is...safer then Windstorm can promise at these times.

-His way would be a long way on foot, and yet for now he prefers this way. There is no urgency to speed to Windstorm, Tyrun tells him no francs have been sighted yet. Time passes, the tall man thinks, too well he realises his heart is now torn between three places.....Kent.......Penbrookshire..and Windstorm. He laughs-

And all because of the love for womenfolk Petite. I am……………………indeed a fool.

-Petite halts, and her ears move, as she does the man beside her reaches for the broadsword strapped to his back, diagonally between his shoulder blades; he too senses something. His hand caresses Petite's neck, and he regains the reigns firmly in his hand-

I hear it too girl......


-He does not move, the horse beside him moves her head up an down nervously, a hoof scraping the forest soil. His face turns eastwards, the shrubbery moves, and he pulls the sword from its leather casing slightly. When the shrubbery moves again, suddenly from among the leaves, black and white stripes appear, a fur tail that would be the envy of many a fine lady, and a strong round head, small black eyes, and the man grins-

There is our enemy Petite, a badger.....

-He releases the sword and it sheaths itself aided by gravity. He grins; the adventure has pressed upon him the need for sleep and speed. With ease he almost jumps onto the horse, needing only little support from the stirrups. He leans forward, and while his hand caresses the warm chestnut pelt slowly, he whispers-

Windstorm......

.-The horse does not respond, and his lips almost touch the short hairs as he whispers one other word-

Pebble............


-The majestic horse responds instantly, and from a slow walk, velocity is gained into a trot, and a full gallop, the wind, the trees, the road finding it impossible to catch up. He travels for neigh an hour, it is then he closes in on Windstorm and with a simple movement of his hands he halts Petite. He observes, and looks at the men he sees on the walls, the battlements, nd turrets. He realises too well, the King has chosen well, the Lord has granted him a strong right hand, one with excellent tactical knowledge and skills. The tall man knows the defences of Windstorm are more complex then Blair Atholl. His home is surrounded on all side with hills, and has been granted a defence by nature quite formidable. He wonders if the field and plains of Kent have by now been reached by the troops of Charles, or if his advisors have indeed indicated travel by sea to Windstorm is most advantages.
His heels dig into petite's flanks, and he does not speak for now. He presses his lips together, one more task to perform, then assess his situation, and make his plan. As he dismounts, and hands the reigns to the stable boy, his mind is made up-

Some oats if you have, and wash her well, dry her better

-he looks at his hands, and guesses his face wears the same signs of travel. He decides the kitchen and a pail of water will solve such. He walks in and grins, runs a hand along the back of his neck, and cook points, throws a towel his way. And without much ado, glancing about if he sees womenfolk, he takes off his shirt and dunks his head deep within the pail, grinning at the thought of getting stuck. He lifts his head, careful not to let the water drip down his body and starts to wash himself thoroughly, using soap herbs offered by a silent cook. Sighehelm hurries, he knows his act could be frowned upon. He dries himself quickly, his hand used to fashion his hair somewhat.
Then while he puts on his tunic, not wholly aware of the travel stains, he listens to the music in the great hall and dunks a tankard in a fresh pale of water, finally getting rid of the foul taste in his mouth, takes a deep breath and walks into the great hall. His object to do his brother’s bidding and offers his arm, his steel to the Monarch of Windstorm. These days he fears the smile of the princess more then the frown of her father. There are times the flame within tests his control, and the hours spent in praying or in solitude pacing the stone floor of his room, make him curse the day the Lord granted him the heart of a man, the flesh of a man.-

[SighehelmofKent]

Dear Mother, Queen Aethelbred of Kent,

Word has come to Windstorm that the Francs have sent ships. The Dove is safe; I escorted her to St. David's this Wednesday, and returned the same day. One by the name of Captain Tyrun sailed his sloop there and back in one day, 50 leagues! A formidable seaman, and from what I gather a businessman of great skill. Righarde should approach him. Captain Tyrun can sell ice to polar bears.

I have travelled to The Netherlands, the city of Eenheid, to escort the Princess Edfeil, lady Rayven, Lady Dream de Loxley and Lady Beren de Lune. The occasion was the death of the Lady Layla, wife to Markgraaf de Foria. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done mother.

The good lady Layla died in childbirth, just like Siobhan, and left a daughter, just like Siobhan. I would much rather face a horde of crazed Danes on my own than having ever to do this again. The pain I had forgotten, anchored it well where it could not touch me. But as I stood at the back of the church, listening to the words, eyes focused on the doors, the windows, the guest, I fought to suppress the images, mother......and failed.

May the Lord strike me down if I have not grieved enough, if my heart has not bled enough? And yet He would not stop his torment. I could see her face white against the sheets, the cry of our baby as it was lifted to the cot. I cursed Him for it mother, and again, there in the back of the church I cursed Him. This God that makes us plays games, cruel games, and it is only because he creates mothers, a mother like you, like Siobhan that I still bend my knee to his will.

I remained back when the body was buried, refusing to hear the words. And when all was finished, I lashed my patience into submission, waiting almost doggedly until the ladies would indeed turn to me to leave. The Princess Edfeil wished to remain with Markgraaf de Foria. Yet I instilled upon her the need Windstorm has for her presence in these dire times, also one of her station should not remain alone with a widowed man. I fear in doing so I have tasted her irritation, and perhaps when she awakes this day, her anger. If it be so mother then it be so. My actions were fed by wisdom of years, and I will admit it to you only, jealousy.

Your words of an heir have touched me mother; Kent needs a strong son to carry the lineage onwards. You speak of the Princess as a candidate. Yet I fear she is not. My heart burns with love for her with each passing day. Yet the Princess is young, maybe not in years but in her ways, she follows where she is led. And would marry any her father dictates. And I, dearest mother, am not on that list, would not wish to be on that list. If she would chose me, SHE would chose me, not her father or any counsellor.

For now the fire burns, it warms me as it consumes me. When Windstorm settles and the Francs have been appeased or driven away, perhaps I will set my feet wandering again. I long to travel home, and wait for favourable news from Righarde every day.

Know mother I am well, the Dove is well, and my arm and steel will fight for Windstorm as my Liege demanded.

I remain,

Through honor, bound to God

Sighehelm of Kent

[Sinold Bragasson]

(What a wonderful, wonderful thread, dear Sighe, and what ecellent writing! well done, and wish wish Sighehelm the very best!)

[SighehelmofKent]

-He paces the infirmary, adrift on a sea of emotions, and like his short travels across a salty sea, his physique rebels, and he runs a hand through his hair, his eyes ever on the still figure of a female. His is angered. How is it his mother, Queen of Kent is here, her old enemy prostrate on her brow, threatening her very existence? Sighehelm sits with her, wipes the sweat from her brow, and holds her hand, cold, small and emaciated. The robe of black too large, it is almost as if she lies in state already. He despairs, and his head lowers, again he prays for his mother’s life, as has so often, so often afore.

But within his prayer, his anger seeks a way. How is it that his mother suffers the affliction, how is it that she has ingested anything that was made of cow, or produced by a cow? He knows his mother, she would tell any that she could not, and zealously guards her own health. He stands again and curses, the lady sitting near colours red, the curse one she has only heard once before. How can he tell his brother that the queen has fallen ill, poisoned may haps?. How could he ever have let the Queen of Kent travel to a land that is on the brink of war? If Queen Aethelbred dies here at Windstorm it will upset the balance in Kent. The renegade Stewards would even raise voices that Kent should join forces with France and rise against Windstorm.

He runs a hand through his hair again. He sees dark clouds that gather around Kent and Windstorm. The plans of his brother thwarted should his mother die. It is his anger makes him pace again, not just minutes, but hours on end, until at last the lady pleads with him, asks him to sit. His pacing unsettles her, and she cannot tend to the lady properly. Again the tall Lord instructs her, 10 drops in hot water, until the brew turns golden. No food, until the Lady Aethelbred opens her eyes. And then some bread soaked in goats milk. He impresses on her that this must not, MUST NEVER, be of the cow.

He sits down at the side of his mother again, her hand in his, and speaks softly. -

Dunstin tells me you left him no choice mother. Your duty lies with Kent, your should not have left.

-He leans closer and wipes her brow again, kissing it tenderly, then straightens again, and talks again, the words soothing more than any, but he hopes the lady he sit with hears them too.-

Sadhbh had a message for you mother. She spoke of a brew she wishes to make, one with horehound, the root of fennel, radish, wild celery and anise, to fight the phlegm that is thick. Also she wishes to know……….if it be……..

-He fumbles inside his pockets, finds a small note and reads from the small scrap of parchment-

……Coltsfoot, or Comfrey root that should be used wrapped around broken bones. I told her comfrey is used to fight when the lungs fail, and to solve problems of the gut. She is stubborn, and will nae believe a man, especially one that know only how to inflict wounds, so her word boxed my ears. She tries my patience at times, my queen. I had near put over my lap and spanked her.

-The small woman before him moves slightly, and makes some incoherent sounds-

Mother………..my queen?

-But the lady falls silent again, and does not stir again, her throat silent too. He stands again and growls exasperated. He barks at the woman to stay with her, and then walks off. His feet lead him to the kitchen, just standing there, waits while cook finishes the gruel. The two talk, and their voices raise, and the tall Kent man walks out again, back to the infirmary.-

They do not know! None tended to my mother when she was here. Then how is it she is ill like this.

-He speaks to no one in particular, yet the lady by the side of the bed, looks at him, wishing she could help him. She whispers that it is time for the brew, and the man nods, takes his place by patient again. He looks at the face he knows so well, and again wipes the sweat of her cheeks, her brow, her upper lip, and take the small hand in his. The seize of his hands drown the queen’s and he presses his lips together, he wonders what will his brother say. How will Righarde reproach him, as much as Sighehelm has reproached his brother in the letter sent this morn-

--------------------------------------------------------

Brother, fool of Kent,

Mother is gravely ill, and I fear she may not return afore the francs leave Windstorm lands. Why is it you have allowed her to travel hence? Your judgement was faulty, your wisdom has failed you. And as such you have failed Kent, endangered the crown! My anger screams, and if the Francs enter right this moment, some would leave without their heads attached to their necks; the others would gladly leave like cowardly dogs!

I fear mother has taken in food or drink of the cow. I cannot imagine she did so willingly. None of the kitchen staff knows of anything served to the Lady Eathelbred by their hand. I fear for her life brother. Let thy prayers reach up and ask God’s assistance, for if mother dies here, I nae know what will befall Kent.

My task is to find who did this, to seek out if such was by malice or mistake. If it was the latter, it is fate that hands the house of Kent a hard blow. If it was the first then this person shall suffer the same fate mother does. So help me brother, should mother die, so the hand that fed her the poison will die. Know then brother that the stewards within Kent that oppose you will attempt to topple your power, and seek revenge for the death of their Queen. Kent will burn with anger, anger aimed at Windstorm, not just one person. I fear they will join France and fight Windstorm.I pray night and day mother will fight the fever, and live. But my fear makes me tremble, brother.

The birds you have sent, they have arrived well and sound. Dunstin builds the mews as we speak. I thank you for my armour, my weapons and royal shield. I know not how Windstorm fares, and as of yet do not understand why the Francs travel to Windstorm. I welcome all news you have.

Through honour, bound to God


Sighehelm of Kent

[SighehelmofKent]

-There was quiet resolution in his actions, both hands almost greedily grabbed the pebbles from the windowsill in the chapel and stuffed his pockets with it. Then for a moment he kneeled before the cross. He prayed for Windstorm, for his mother, for Kent, Marianne and little Mary, for Sadbhb, Righarde, and finally himself. His words spoken to the Lord God simple, and he stands.

Then he walks out, saddles his horse and leaves Windstorm, needing to increase the distance between the stone walls, the people within and himself. Petite enjoys the freedom given and chases the wind that plays the fields and weaves among the trees. When they reach the brook, they follow it till it ends in a shallow pool; the pool where he finds his pebbles, each chosen with special care. Each a memory of her, her smile, her eyes, her voice, the way the wind plays with a tuft of her hair, the sound her chair makes when she sits, the way she eats and always wipes the left corner of her mouth first, then the right.

He dismounts and allows Petite to graze where she wishes, and walks along the water's edge. He fills a hand with the pebbles from his pocket. He knows too well there are 51 pebbles in his pocket......no, 50, for one is in the posession of the Princess. One by one they stream from his hand into the water. Again he fills his hand, and watches as the small stones cause circle upon circle to disturb the water's surface.

He looks at the last pebble in his hand, a small pebble, smaller than he others. It is why it remained longest in his hand. He reaches for his belt, and wound around it is the ribbon Efeil once gifted her. He winds the ribbon around the pebble, tight, meticiously, and then....without hesitation throws this last pebble to the middle of the pond. It is gone before his eyes register the pebble at all. He checks his pockets agai nbut none are astray, all have returned to the pool they were taken from. The tall man crouches, and watches the water. Then after some time, he stands again, and looking at the water, whispers again, turns, his face empty, his eye upon his horse-

Vulnerant omnes, ultima necat

-He mounts his horse again, rides back. His ways seem fed by haste and urgency. Because not long after he sits at the table in the main hall and writes.

-----------------------

My liege King Righarde, my brother

The queen lives, and grows stronger every day. She plans to leave tomorrow as the air in these lands is pregnant with anticipation of the Franc's visit. This letter will preceed her, hoping you will ready all in Blair Atholl.

There is no other news brother. We wait.

Through honor, bound to God,


Sighehelm of Kent