Tintagel - 598 AD
A summer storm rocked the length of the ribbed, wooden longship as it drifted into the harbour, knocking up against the pier with a soft thud. The voyage north from Kastell-Paol had taken the vessel's passengers across the Celtic Sea and east around Land's End. The trip had only lasted a few hours, but the silence on board had been palpable. To put it lightly, their venture in Domnonée had not gone as planned and everybody was keen to get ashore.
Lightning lit the heavens with a brilliant flash as a bolt fell over the waters of Môr Hafren to the north. The wind was sharp and bit deep as it came in off the sea accompanied by stinging rain. The wooden planks of the pier were uncovered, but at their far end the light of a distant fire could be seen flickering inside a wooden hut, like a small beacon of shelter amongst the violent Atlantic weather.
Magan gives quiet thanks to Thor for the safe passage and the good omen upon their return.
"Thor beats his hammer to welcome us home, yet this does not feel a joyous occasion. No doubt our employer will be glad of having less hands to pay, but our actions bring us little glory. Perhaps we should take our time bringing news to him."
He looks to Prasutagus for confirmation. Before turning to Kara and switching to Saxon.
" Kara, though you are a friend not a prisoner, I would be grateful if you would accompany us to court, we could use confirmation of our version of events. No doubt you will be pleased for a place to stay in any case."
Taking the horse train by the lead rope he leads the way down the pier,pulling his hat low against the rain.
Kara yawns and stretches, securing her weapons and her armor, tired of the long passage back to the court. She looks around and adjust her pack on Errol, making sure everything was covered to protect it from the rain.
" I would enjoy a place to stay, but I do have a duty to insure that all souls make it to the final resting place we all strive to go to."
She thinks on it a bit and suggest to the group, awaiting Prasutagus to replay, that they might wish to await the storm. While Freya acknowledged rain was needed, this was a terrible storm that had seemed to come from no where.
Responding back in Saxon " Maybe we should take a few days to rest before we venture onwards. I would venture to guess that we are not expected back this soon, and we might not have even been expected to come back in one piece" She would await for the group to pick an option, but anything that got her off the boat was really the best option.
Now all she had to do is wait, for she might not be the best person to deal with everything going on. She would however await response from the higher priestess about what Freya desired.
"Either way, our first job is to return the horses to stable. Then to drink to lost friends"
Magan leads the way through the winding streets in the direction of the distinctive twin peaks of tintagel.
Kara followed Magan, a bit unfamiliar with the land, but a fellow Saxon did make her more at ease, even though being away from the animals unnerved her. Hopefully they would make it safely to the contact point. Hopefully.
Following the other off the boat and leading his horse Aurelius, Prasutagus nods to Magan regarding taking their time to inform their employer about what has happened.
Not being able to understand this Kara will be cumbersome. I should try to pick up her language...
As Magan mentions lost friends, Prasutagus agrees with a sigh, "Aye, a pint to lost friends." I wish I hadn't needed to kill Arn...
The pier ends at right angles to a boardwalk that runs the length of Tintagel's modest docks. Just beyond the decking, on the sodden earth currently passing for 'dry land', sits a broad wooden building built around the upturned ribs of a huge, very old looking abandoned boat.
It seems that what through the wind and rain had appeared to be a hut, was in fact just the end of this larger building. Magan and Prasutagus know this warehouse-come-mead-hall to be the charge of Calder, the dock master. There should be stables around the back where they can quarter the beasts. A low buzz of many voices can be heard floating through the boarded-closed windows and a warm light flickers invitingly behind them.
Kara looked about the village, seeing what looked like a mead hall. She started in Saxon " Let us take a drink there, for even though Freya has blessed us to be back on land, one can no pass up the chance to have a drink, no? This court of yours, what exactly does it do?"
She still had on her armor, and had her shield strapped to her back. It was hard to tell in the rain and dim lighting, but it seemed she had left her helm on the pack mule, letting her snowy white hair get plastered to her face. The braid had came undone at this point, but one could tell she was tired and just happy to be on the land. She would hope there was mead, or at least food. Hard tack is not the greatest of meals.
Magan pauses a moment.
What does it do?
"Broadly, it provides rule of law for the land. Sets the laws, arbitratesdisputes. More crucially for us, it provides work for us. The man hiring us is dangerous though. He doesn't play within the rules and he is not worth upsetting."
Magan passes the horses off to the stable hand, giving very strict and precise instructions for their care coupled with a rather violent threat before heading into the hustle and bustle of the inn. The locals know him and Prasutagus and a couple of embarrassed looking street urchins vacate their usual booth. Magan whispers some quiet words to a busy waitress and sits back with a smile on his face.
With a bit more good humour than Magan, Prasutagus brings his mount around and gives the stable hand a few instructions on his care.
Once Magan sits after talking to the waitress, Prasutagus speaks up, "You will need to teach me her tongue if we are to work together Magan. I can't be needing some one to relay what I say during battle."
Looking out over the crowded room, "So, what is our plan now? I suggest we eat and sleep tonight, then report back tomorrow afternoon. I don't want to go to soon, but waiting too long will make it obvious were avoiding it."
Magan nods.
"I agree. And it is difficult, but I must admit, I am enjoying the chance to speak my own language again. It has been too long. But for now, let's drink, forget about court, and make our decisions on full stomachs."
The boy takes the beasts without question, Magan is a known regular and local custom dictates that stabling is paid for upon collection... otherwise they have your horse.
Inside, a large dividing wall runs along the broadest point of the long building, separating the drinking area from the more official side of the dock master's duties. This boat was once huge, larger than anything anybody can build today.
The apex of the roof is around twenty feet up, and at the top in the middle of the dividing wall is a railed opening ten foot wide. The hall itself is forty foot across at the wall and dominated by two long tables that run the length of the room. A large fireplace has been built in the point at the end of the room.
Many men sit drinking and talking amongst themselves at the tables, but the mood is quiet. Most are clearly just taking shelter from the storm. A few look up curiously when they see Kara enter. There are few women here - one to be precise. She sits at the end of one of the large tables, occasionally laughing loudly with the men around her. Magan's 'booth' is in truth just a regular spot at one of the tables.
Magan and Prasutagus know the bawdy woman as Denyw. A powerfully built woman who fights for the King. She can probably out-drink most of the men here and has a temper to match.
Kara was not able to understand Prasutagus, but from Magan nodding she took it to be a good thing, at least from the way things seemed. She wrapped her damp hair up in a tight top knot, as when they sat down at the table she nearly sat on it, and nothing was as fun as having your hair pulled in armor. She wasnt too sure what the language was, but she tried her best to get across in Norse, the sounds of her homeland, since Saxon was not a common lanuage.
" Mead, beer, and whatever fresh food for hungry travelers."
If it came across any similar to the local language, it might sound like she wanted to eat hungry travelers, which at this point might not be an unpleasant idea. Hopefully Magan understood some Norse, but she wasnt sure he would. It was close to Saxon, at least to her it seemed like it was.
She looked around, noting how busy this little place was. Maybe they would have good food and she could not complain on the company. They haven't tried anything untowards to her yet.
"That sounds fine to me, Magan." Prasutagus says. When the opportunity arises he say to the barmaid "Bring me an ale and food, please."
"Storming again, what a dreary...no, one shan't complain, it has being a good day so far."
Felix thinks quietly to himself. Staring into his half finished mug of mead, he smiles faintly as he remembers the flirtatious wink and peek on the cheek he received from the barmaid earlier.
His pleasant reminiscence were cut short when the door to the mead hall slammed open where three figures stood in the thundering rain. Remembering why he was here and the job he was hired to do, Felix observes the three individuals as they approach a table, causing a group of street urchins to scatter.
"Could they be it?" Pondering whether to approach the group, Felix beacons over one of the urchins and asked with a smile "Boy, do you know who these people are?" Pointing at the group.
"Maybe sir, for a copper piece sir," the boy replies, with a cheeky grin.
"That's Magan Aetheling, sir. The man an'im, they run with the Red Wolves. 'e's Pra-somethin', sir. Can't say it. They say it's an old name, sir. They do work for the palace. I dunno the woman, sir."
---
The maid returns to the table with food and drink for the three companions.
"Tha's nyne silver an' thirt'n copper friends," she says. Her local accent is heavy and her ability to count clearly limited, though it seems her bosom clearly makes up for it.
At the other end of the table Denyw erupts in another bout of raucous laughter with her drinking buddies. She thumps the wood with her fist making the clay cups slop and spill their contents over their sides.
Felix chuckles and reaches behind the boy's ear. With a quick snap of the finger, he produces a silver piece and places it in the boy's open palm."Good boy, go buy yourself and your friends something to eat."
So that's the band of Red Wolves, I thought there was suppose to be more of them... Felix sits holding his mead and quietly studying the group. Their expressions seems rather grim, maybe I shan't intrude for now. Let's wait and see...
"Here's what I owe you" Prasutagus says handing over four silver.
I'm gonna need more work quick, I'm nearly broke...
Turning to his food and ale, Prasutagus watches the crowd as he eats.
Kara hands over the other 5 silver, a bit more secure in her gold, but it would not last forever. She wanted and needed more work, if nothing else to spread the holy word of Freya. She even opens her book of Freya, for maybe someone in this foreign land would be interested and she could help save their heathen soul. She whispers the words softly to herself as she reads, eating and drinking ever so often.
After a few seconds pass she ask Magan
" Is that one in the corner," She asks pointing at Denyw" is she always so loud? Surely the joke is not that funny? Is it the one about the Jotun and the wall?"
She wasn't annoyed at the woman insomuch as she was spilling good mead. And one does not simply spill good mead. You must ask forgiveness for such an affront, unless the woman was that drunk. Unless she didn't care about spilling good mead.
Denyw notices Kara's accusatory finger and pushes herself to her feet, leaning aggresively over the table. She is very tall, well over six feet, with arms as thick as small tree trunks. Her voice is low and rumbling and her eyes meet Kara's with a fire behind them.
"Beth ydych chi'n meddwl eich bod chi'n edrych arno, rydych chi'n glynu tua'r gogledd?
Watching the woman walk over, Prasutagus has a feeling she isn't here to play nice. Once she opens her mouth, Prasutagus knows she isn't.
"Nid fy mod yn gallu ei deall hi, ond mae hi'n golygu nad oes unrhyw niwed i Denyw, gadewch i ffwrdd." Prasutagus says to Denyw.
Magan hands over the remaining money, winks at the bar maid and raises a glass to his companions, before almost choking on his drink at Kara's faux pas.
"I believe it was the one where the bear catches the kitten,or at least it's about to be. Denyw is quite the bear. We can either buy her a drink and make a joke of it, or you can be at the centre of your first of many bar fights on our island. Think fast."
Oh boy, today is turning out to be something else. I don't know about these Red Wolves, but I haven't seen Denyw loose a bar fight yet. On the one hand, this could be rather entertaining, but on the other hand I would like my future companion to stay in relative good health. How troublesome...
Finishing off the rest of his mead, Felix shifts into a more comfortable position, ready to act at a moment's notice.
Kara sets down her book, closing it softly. She then drinks her mead, before asking Magan, " How much honor would come from beating the town drunk? For if I remember right, in some stories the bear loses to the kitten, for the kitten is small enough to fit whole in its mouth, and tears it from the inside out."
She would make no outward sign she was going to fight, but she would take out Denyw. There was no harm in teaching someone manners, but how you went about it changes the result
Magan stifles a laugh.
"There is no honour in a bar fight. But you don't want to be seen as a push over, or every drunk in here will be accusing you in the hopes of a free drink."
Magan know that continuing the conversation in Saxon is only going to antagonise the situation, but his head hurts from the journey and his grief.
No honour, but perhaps a chance to forget about a fallen friend.
He turns again to Prasutagus, aware he has been somewhat left out.
"our friend was just enquiring as to the nature of the joke that caused such disturbance before, and would very much like to hear it. Perhaps we should make room for Denyw to join us?"
And quietly to Kara
"Your move first kitten, just keep those claws away"
"Cuddiwch eich wyneb ddrwg, pwmp! Gall eich chwistrell siarad am ei hun!" Denyw drawls at Prasutagus derisively.
She spits on the table in front of them, her hair framing her face in wild, dark curls. Her jaw and nose are both crooked. She has clearly seen a number of fights and is not a pretty woman. Behind her, Denyw's three drinking companions stand from the table. One of them crack his knuckles, another his neck.
Kara's ignoring her only seems to infuriate Denyw further.
"Magan," she shouts, "peidiwch â chuddio tu ôl i'ch tafod anhygoel!"
She plants her fist on the table and leans in close to Kara, her mouth right up against the shield maiden's face. Her breath reeks of mead and rot.
"Rydych chi am yfed gyda'r ferch fach sydd wedi tyfu?"
Kara yawns a bit, before asking Magan, in Saxon " Can you translate this for me? I am not seeking to fight with one who can not properly bathe. I will however drink you under the table so far you will puke for a week. Of course, you could just beat your enemies with your fist because you can't drink like the rest of us?"
She would not throw the first punch, since that could be against the law here. However, one could not fault her for not swinging first, but in self defense, a few broken chairs, maybe one less town drunk, it was truly all the same.
She would react with violence if Denyw tried any, but for now, let her look like a savage animal. There was no point in reacting in the manner Denyw expected if she could further her own goal by making her look dumb and unimportant
Sodding woman...
Prasutagus snorts and shakes his head a bit at Denyw.
"Does dim mwy na chwistrell na chi gyda'r tri.", Prasutagus mutters to Denyw while nodding to her drinking companions. "Gadewch inni fod", Prasutagus says as he stands.
"She's no more a whore than you are with those three.", Prasutagus mutters to Denyw while nodding to her drinking companions. "Now leave us be."
Denyw looks at Prasutagus blankly for a moment, as though surprised that he actually had the balls to answer back like that. Then she bursts out laughing and claps him heartily on the back.
"Dylech ymuno â ni rywbryd Prasutagus! Efallai y byddwch chi'n mwynhau'ch hun am unwaith!"
She takes a seat at the table besides the Iceni, mead in hand, now addressing both Magan and him.
"Rwy'n siŵr bod mwy ohonoch chi yn olaf, fe wnes i chi weld llawer ... ac mae'r bys yn newydd i'w gychwyn. Beth ddigwyddodd?"
Magan shakes his head, partly in disbelief, partly in disappointment at not getting the fight he craved.
The smile drops and the nonchalant front disappears for a moment.
"Things went wrong, one after the other. Good people died. We don't want to talk about it. "
He turns back to Kara, the grin back in place.
"Seems we are stuck with the smell a little longer"
maybe we deserve it
"Rwy'n mwynhau fy hun yn fwy i ffwrdd oddi wrthych. Denyw, rydych chi'n gwybod hynny." Prasutagus says with a bit of a grin.
Preasutagus' grin quickly disappears at the mention of their losses and he takes a quaff of his ale.
Kara sniffs, and looks about for more mead. One could not always pick the person next to you in a long boat, so she understood a little bit.
She replies back to Magan " Is this normal for those around here to smell as if they bathe with the pigs? If so Freya have mercy on their souls, for they are surely lost and needing guidance."
She sat and listened, unsure how she felt about the fight not happening. While happy she did not start the fight, it would have been fun, and a little violence never hurt. It would clear the black cloud over the group she was with now though. They needed a cheering up only found when one has good food, good drink, and good women, and there was a lack of women here. She brushed at her hair, and grimaced as she thought about that. To have what seemed like Denyw and a few other options, life must be hard here. Or they where just at the wrong meadhall.
Magan hides his smirk behind his cup.
"Only when you keep such poor company"
He turns in his seat, switching back to Cornish.
"Shall I begin the tales then?"
Magan begins the traditional telling of stories of the fallen, both of battle prowess, and funny tales,some may be seen as disrespectful, but the tradition keeps dealing with the constant death of your companions more easy to swallow.
Magan's story is... mediocre and as it draws on Denyw and her drinking companions gradually find reasons to leave, until only Prasutagus and Kara remain. Outside the storm sounds like it has eased. Instead of thunder and torrents of rain, all that can be heard now is the soft pitter patter of water dripping from the eaves.
"Well time to get this over with"
Magan leads the way through the small town towards the intimidating cliff top towers of the castle.
Praise the gods, I thought he was never going to stop...
Having decided that eavesdropping on that story was not the best choice he could have made, Felix stands up, gives the barmaid a cheeky wink and heads out after the party of three.
"Looks like it's finally time for work."
The storm appears to have rolled on eastwards, the black clouds drifting inland to make way for clear blue skies that have opened up over the waters of Môr Hafren. Nevertheless, the walk uphill to the noble district on the cliffs is mired with broad puddles and thick, squelching mud that sucks at the traveller's boots with every step.
At the top of the hill a wooden arch decorated with carved dragons on each side marks the the beginnings of the noble district. Here the muddy track ends, giving way to cobbled streets amongst the finer buildings. At far the end of the road, standing tall on the clifftop, the towers of the palace rear up over the sea.
The streets are still quiet, most people still inside after having retreated from the storm. Two damp guards stand on duty at the huge wooden doors of the palace gates. However, the Red Wolves know better than to walk in the front door. Bletius has always met with them in the shadows, it is unlikely he would be pleased to see his mercenaries prance through the front door. There is a kitchen entrance down the side of the palace, where he can be discreetly informed of their arrival.
Without looking the guards in the eye, Magan heads towards the kitchen entrance.
Felix follows behind the group, keeping his distance. Seeing Magan and the rest heading towards the kitchen entrance, he strolls up to the guards ,whom he met the first time he was summoned here, and greets him with a smile.
"Hail friend, please inform lord Bletius that his 'delivery' has arrived and will wait for him in the kitchen."
With that Felix turns and heads towards the kitchen entrance.
Wish the weather could be nicer. Though it suits the news we bring...
Prasutagus will follow Magan silently into the kitchen.
Groans as she walks, as she had herd moving to the southern parts would mean less mud. Back in her fishing village she calls home, mud was everywhere, all the time. One could not simply avoid the stuff.
Why is it always mud? Mud at home, mud here, mud everywhere. I am tired of mud. I wager I'll need new boots before to long
She followed behind Magan, but shot a glare at anyone who came to close, for she had not had enough mead for her liking. Already this journey seems like it would not be worth it, for while a nice fortress will keep you safe, the home around it seemed to fancy for any real defensive maneuvers. However, when they approached the kitchen, it was starting to look up. Maybe this was a nice place to grab some food, maybe some more mead. At least she hoped so.
Least they could do is feed me. It smells decent enough. I hope they have smoked fish...
Magan pauses before knocking on the kitchen door. He always found the Rampant Red Dragon a little intimidating and the thought that he may be working for someone so closely connected to the Royal family made him nervous. He had only been brought along twice before. Tobias usually handled the meetings, but Bletius liked to see every new recruit to see what he was paying for.
The guard returns Felix's gaze blankly, his expression impossible to make out under the full faced helmet he wears. He turns his head to glance at the other guard, who shrugs in return and they both simply return to staring straight ahead.
The kitchen door is answered by a young scullery maid, whose head immediately falls to look at the ground when she finds three armed and armoured warriors on the other side. Before she can speak, she's quickly hushed aside by a more rotund-looking middle-aged woman.
"Rydych chi eisiau fy nheiriau yn y seler win."
She announces without ceremony.
"Mae'r wraig hefyd."
She nods to Kara before hurrying them through the bustling kitchen and down a wooden staircase into the dim light of the cellar. Small candles in metal brackets on the walls light the way here and there. From the darkness at the back of the cellar a cloaked and hooded figure steps out of the shadows between two enormous wine casks.
"Ychydig iawn ohonoch sy'n dychwelyd Meistr Aetheling. Rwy'n ymddiried yn eich llwyddiant er hynny?"
The voice is warm and smooth like honey in the thick air of the cellar.
Magan pushes aside the nerves he was feeling earlier and squashes the memory of their first meeting, and his 'assessment'. Summoning his full composure to keep his regular uncaring and humorous front.
"That would depend on your measure of success m'lord. The Christian's were clearly expecting trouble and had fortified the position. But now they are all dead, along with an associated punted party. Their church is mostly ashes, although there was more stonework than anticipated so more remains than we would perhaps have liked. Their possessions were scattered and buried as we lacked the manpower to haul it back, but it is no longer accessible by them, which was your aim I believe? On top of that you have 14 less wages to pay this month, which I'm sure will help to ease your mourning at our depleted plunder. "
He scratches at knee as he gives account of the events to help keep any emotion from his voice. It would do nothing but harm to show weakness here.
He adds hurriedly,
" and do not think we are ineffective in our reduced size. The strongest survive,and we are ready to serve again. We will recruit if necessary."
Felix walks up to the kitchen entrance and knocks on the door.
He should be happy with the success. Regardless we will need to recruit if he has a job that needs numbers...
Prasutagus remains silent, watching the exchange between Magan and Bletius.
Kara quietly polishes some of her front armor, unsure of what was being said, but so far no one was trying to kill them, so that was a plus. Her nose twitches slightly, more due to the smell of food than anything. One never knew when the next meal was, and they were not that far from a nice smelling kitchen, rather than the dank of a wine cellar.
I bet there isnt any mead in here. Shame, could fit a good many barrels here....
"Bydd hynny'n ddigon, Meistr Aetheling."
Bletius' face remains hidden, but from his tone of voice he could be smiling.
"Bydd dyn gyda fy nghyncyn yn eich cyfarfod yn eich stabl i gasglu'r hyn sydd gennych. Byddwch yn derbyn eich taliad ganddo."
Upstairs, the same woman hurries Felix inside and ushers him down the stairs into the cellar. Ahead of him he can see the three mercenaries from behind, although whoever they are talking to is obscured by their backs.
"Yn y cyfamser, dylech gyfarfod â'ch cydweithiwr newydd," Bletius continues. "Felix Emerson. Cam allan."
Felix steps up from behind the group, gives a courteous nod at lord Bletius turns to the group and smiles.
"Diolch i ti, Arglwydd Beltius. Cyfarchion cyfeillion, yn falch i wneud eich gydnabod. Gwaith da tawelu yr arth gynharach."
Felix rests his gaze on Kara and nods.
"Mae gen i waith pellach - i bawb ohonoch chi," Bletius informs the group. "Fodd bynnag, yn gyntaf hoffwn gael fy nghyfarwydd â Lady Olmsdottor."
The man's hood inclines towards Kara and he begins to speak, now in Norse.
"Hva bringer deg til Dumnonia min dame?"