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Campion
Star
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2015
- Location
- Eastern US
Sir Roland had the mare at a trot. He was almost there. The house of his fiancee was just ahead. Her written words to him of what she would do to his body when she saw him had him boiling.
For three years he had battled in distant lands and touched no woman, though he had seen things that would have scandalized his provincial associates, and had changed his views on much. Only his Percheron mare, Engage, had kept him warm at nights, for he taken vow of chastity until marriage. That very vow had saved him in several ways. He had avoided the pestilent diseases of the cities by avoiding physical contact, and the lustful diseases as well. Additionally, his reputation for not touching the wives and daughters of the enemy had gained him respect, as he’d also let it be known that any man under his command who took an unwilling woman would be marrying her if she chose, after that man felt the lash for his disobedience and vile behavior.
It had been noted that when assassins stalked the other lords and commanders that he remained unattempted. Some nasty rumors of aiding the enemy had surfaced, but the Duke had quashed them most quickly. “If you louts are unable to keep your bollocks in your britches, don’t be surprised if you offend someone with the ability to do you ill. Roland has honor. For all the vile heresies of the enemy, bravery and an understanding of honor they have in spades.”
The Duke had been far less thrilled with Roland’s interest in things of science, worrying about witchcraft. Roland saw no reason why any tool should not be used to profit. So it was he who had convinced the Duke to change direction when lost in the desert, pledging his life if he were wrong. The star chart and lodestone which he had purchased allowed their arrival in time to save a Christian City, surprising the enemy from the rear, and the grateful Duke had granted him a fief on the spot, entitling the young Lieutenant with a Barony, and breveting him to Captain. The requirement that he wed a lady of the kingdom troubled him not a bit. He was affianced to such, and the three month limit after his return should be easy to manage.
Then had come Jerusalem…and not even the city proper. It had been a small burgh nearby. He was overseeing the ordered taking of the town when a local woman ran to him. “Lord Knight, if your honor is intact, then save the children. The fire has spread from the barracks you lit to the houses!”
He had trotted after her, to see that the fire had reached private homes. Wetting his cloak in a horse trough, he had run in, and found only a poor small girl cowering in a far corner. with his cloak, he enwrapped her and raced through the building flames to leave the building. But the wind had shifted and he had to go another way. He'd neglected to wear a padded cloth shirt under his chain mail and now the searing metal bore into his skin like a hot ingot in ice.
Valiantly ignoring the pain, he threw himself through a window, where the child's mother took her, and he knew no more.
When he awoke, the mother of the child was tending to his wounds. His family crest, the wild dragon, had been engraved on a bronze plate in the center of his scale armor. Now that wolf’s head was burned forever across most of his chest.
The woman, named Gamina, was daughter of a learned apothecary, and together they had kept the infection from him and the swelling down. While abed, he learned so much of his adversaries that no one had bothered to learn ere now. As he exited their home forty days later, it was a much changed young man who braided his hair back and resumed the command of his troops.
He had won in battle after battle, even against overwhelming odds, refusing to cover his chest, using a shield instead. He became known for ignoring the levy soldiers and singling out noble opponents for single combat. It was a new strategy and it worked. He ransomed those he defeated, taking their wealth and their right to fight and sending them home.
When he unknowingly took the son of the Sultan, his saddlebags creaked with concealed gems from the ransom.
But for all his honor, dark tales grew. “He has aligned with the spirit of the dragon, and is cursed! Why else would the Lord have branded him so.” And so the tales spread.
When he entered a surrounded enemy citadel alone to parley, then led them peacefully out with their arms yielded, it was not the reputation of his honor, which the enemy had yielded to, which his own side carried word of. Instead it was said that he had ensorcelled them and he grew even more apart from his own.
His mind returned to the present. He had not even visited his parent’s estate, but come straight to her house. If nothing else, she represented stability.
Roland and Magdalena had never been in love. They were entirely unlike in temperament and he honestly considered her shrewish. But their parents wished to combined the fortune of both their houses and he was a dutiful son. He was now twenty-five, and she would be twenty. He rather hoped her skinny willowy frame would have gained a few pounds. Getting children with her might not be a joyful experience, but he looked forward to being a father. And running a Barony would keep them both busy, so they need not spend much time together.
Here was the house, but she was not out, as he waited, with twenty of his men mounted behind him, his impatience grew. Finally, he rode in, breaking through the locked front door to the courtyard, he called to the house. “Magdalena! Your betrothed returns from battle! Come forth to greet me as is proper.”
A stammering house servant came out and spoke softly and stammeringly to him, explaining that the family was shamed that she had run off months ago with a tailor. “Please g-good Knight?” His dark reputation had come even to here. “Won’t you wait in the g-garden, whilst I bring one of the family to meet you?”
Infuriated, Roland almost struck the man, but he couldn’t…he was a knight and had to set an example even now. Granted, he had not loved her…but…he would lose the Barony, and the personal insult was so grave…how could he live it down? Then there was the matter of the large bride price his family had paid. They had, when he had left, been of smaller title, and so had paid handsomely for the right to Magdelena, and an opportunity to marry up. He deserved at least that back to salve his honor… but the manor looked run down. Not like when he left. Had they fallen on hard times?
Agitated, he waited in the garden, pacing back and forth. But it was not her father who approached him, it was her younger sister Abigail. A woman whose sweet round curves he had always admired, though she had been too young for him and the older sister gained precedence. She was calmer of voice than her sister and beloved of her servants. How he wished his parents had made the match with her. Then an idea of how to solve this started to circle in his brain and he began to smirk. He'd need to act very angry though.
As she entered, so too came in his Sergeant. "Apologies Sir, but there is news from the men you sent to your house. Your parents are dead...for over a year.
Stunned, he sank into a chair. It was all too much...first Magdelena, now this!"
For three years he had battled in distant lands and touched no woman, though he had seen things that would have scandalized his provincial associates, and had changed his views on much. Only his Percheron mare, Engage, had kept him warm at nights, for he taken vow of chastity until marriage. That very vow had saved him in several ways. He had avoided the pestilent diseases of the cities by avoiding physical contact, and the lustful diseases as well. Additionally, his reputation for not touching the wives and daughters of the enemy had gained him respect, as he’d also let it be known that any man under his command who took an unwilling woman would be marrying her if she chose, after that man felt the lash for his disobedience and vile behavior.
It had been noted that when assassins stalked the other lords and commanders that he remained unattempted. Some nasty rumors of aiding the enemy had surfaced, but the Duke had quashed them most quickly. “If you louts are unable to keep your bollocks in your britches, don’t be surprised if you offend someone with the ability to do you ill. Roland has honor. For all the vile heresies of the enemy, bravery and an understanding of honor they have in spades.”
The Duke had been far less thrilled with Roland’s interest in things of science, worrying about witchcraft. Roland saw no reason why any tool should not be used to profit. So it was he who had convinced the Duke to change direction when lost in the desert, pledging his life if he were wrong. The star chart and lodestone which he had purchased allowed their arrival in time to save a Christian City, surprising the enemy from the rear, and the grateful Duke had granted him a fief on the spot, entitling the young Lieutenant with a Barony, and breveting him to Captain. The requirement that he wed a lady of the kingdom troubled him not a bit. He was affianced to such, and the three month limit after his return should be easy to manage.
Then had come Jerusalem…and not even the city proper. It had been a small burgh nearby. He was overseeing the ordered taking of the town when a local woman ran to him. “Lord Knight, if your honor is intact, then save the children. The fire has spread from the barracks you lit to the houses!”
He had trotted after her, to see that the fire had reached private homes. Wetting his cloak in a horse trough, he had run in, and found only a poor small girl cowering in a far corner. with his cloak, he enwrapped her and raced through the building flames to leave the building. But the wind had shifted and he had to go another way. He'd neglected to wear a padded cloth shirt under his chain mail and now the searing metal bore into his skin like a hot ingot in ice.
Valiantly ignoring the pain, he threw himself through a window, where the child's mother took her, and he knew no more.
When he awoke, the mother of the child was tending to his wounds. His family crest, the wild dragon, had been engraved on a bronze plate in the center of his scale armor. Now that wolf’s head was burned forever across most of his chest.
The woman, named Gamina, was daughter of a learned apothecary, and together they had kept the infection from him and the swelling down. While abed, he learned so much of his adversaries that no one had bothered to learn ere now. As he exited their home forty days later, it was a much changed young man who braided his hair back and resumed the command of his troops.
He had won in battle after battle, even against overwhelming odds, refusing to cover his chest, using a shield instead. He became known for ignoring the levy soldiers and singling out noble opponents for single combat. It was a new strategy and it worked. He ransomed those he defeated, taking their wealth and their right to fight and sending them home.
When he unknowingly took the son of the Sultan, his saddlebags creaked with concealed gems from the ransom.
But for all his honor, dark tales grew. “He has aligned with the spirit of the dragon, and is cursed! Why else would the Lord have branded him so.” And so the tales spread.
When he entered a surrounded enemy citadel alone to parley, then led them peacefully out with their arms yielded, it was not the reputation of his honor, which the enemy had yielded to, which his own side carried word of. Instead it was said that he had ensorcelled them and he grew even more apart from his own.
His mind returned to the present. He had not even visited his parent’s estate, but come straight to her house. If nothing else, she represented stability.
Roland and Magdalena had never been in love. They were entirely unlike in temperament and he honestly considered her shrewish. But their parents wished to combined the fortune of both their houses and he was a dutiful son. He was now twenty-five, and she would be twenty. He rather hoped her skinny willowy frame would have gained a few pounds. Getting children with her might not be a joyful experience, but he looked forward to being a father. And running a Barony would keep them both busy, so they need not spend much time together.
Here was the house, but she was not out, as he waited, with twenty of his men mounted behind him, his impatience grew. Finally, he rode in, breaking through the locked front door to the courtyard, he called to the house. “Magdalena! Your betrothed returns from battle! Come forth to greet me as is proper.”
A stammering house servant came out and spoke softly and stammeringly to him, explaining that the family was shamed that she had run off months ago with a tailor. “Please g-good Knight?” His dark reputation had come even to here. “Won’t you wait in the g-garden, whilst I bring one of the family to meet you?”
Infuriated, Roland almost struck the man, but he couldn’t…he was a knight and had to set an example even now. Granted, he had not loved her…but…he would lose the Barony, and the personal insult was so grave…how could he live it down? Then there was the matter of the large bride price his family had paid. They had, when he had left, been of smaller title, and so had paid handsomely for the right to Magdelena, and an opportunity to marry up. He deserved at least that back to salve his honor… but the manor looked run down. Not like when he left. Had they fallen on hard times?
Agitated, he waited in the garden, pacing back and forth. But it was not her father who approached him, it was her younger sister Abigail. A woman whose sweet round curves he had always admired, though she had been too young for him and the older sister gained precedence. She was calmer of voice than her sister and beloved of her servants. How he wished his parents had made the match with her. Then an idea of how to solve this started to circle in his brain and he began to smirk. He'd need to act very angry though.
As she entered, so too came in his Sergeant. "Apologies Sir, but there is news from the men you sent to your house. Your parents are dead...for over a year.
Stunned, he sank into a chair. It was all too much...first Magdelena, now this!"