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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 the 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 good Duke who left the army 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 arcane. Though Roland had been born with no sign of the Touch, he 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 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 to wed 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. They are going to fire the house!”
He had trotted after her, to see some mercenary company had, in fact, lit a building on fire to drive forth the inhabitants. He had run in, and found only a poor small girl cowering in a far corner. Wetting his cloak along with his cape, he enwrapped her and raced through the growing flames to leave the building despite pain like he had never felt. As he exited, to give the child to a grateful mother, the burning lintel of the front door came down showering him with coals.
Roland only dimly remembered the falling timbers, but the searing pain he would never forget. The force had driven him downward as it crashed down onto his chest.
When he awoke, the mother of the child was tending to his wounds. His family crest, the wild wolf had been engraved on a bronze plate in the center of his chain armor. Now that wolf’s head was burned forever across most of his chest, and the pattern of the chain links melted into his back, shoulders and upper arms. Fool that he was, in the local heat, he had dispensed with his padded coat and had had nothing underneath.
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 gone forth to win 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 showing a new way to gain victories. 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 wolf 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 combin the fortune of both their houses and he was a dutiful son. He was now twenty-two, 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.
But at her home, she was gone....having left with a tailor. He was stunned. Lord Francis her father, informed Roland that they did not have the money to repay the brideprice. The Wolf Knight snarled at him, “Then if you do not wish your home to feel the fires I bear within me, you will swear fealty to me as your lord. I will see to it that your family is not dishonored and pay your debts that you may continue here.” Having little choice, the Baronet agreed, giving Roland his title on the spot.
Slowly, he turned towards home directing his score of warriors to precede him, then rode quickly. He needed his mother's arms. Arriving at the courtyard, he looked around, but something was amiss.
The yard was only partially weeded and there was a loose shutter. Three men were banging on the front door of the manor trying to open it. One of them yelled out. "It's no good Miss Charlotte. You've staved off the bills as long as you could, but now it's come due. As debtors, we have the right to recompense. We'll just take some of the nicest furniture and call it even, then come back to bid on the property."
Roland jumped from his horse and then three men turned, looking suddenly worried as he suddenly lifted their leader from the ground and pinned him to the door with a long sword at his throat. "Who dares to threaten the estate of my parents and those within and plot to take our family belongings? Tell me so I may know who I intend to kill."
One of the men blurted. "God, it's Sir Roland, the Wolf Knight, returned from the war! Mercy Milord, but your parents are gone 18 months and naught has been paid in the last 14 since they died for food and supplies provided. The law gives us right to recompense."
Suddenly, what he said came through and Roland stepped back, staggered. "Dead? No....it's can't be." Then he collected himself. "Fear not for your debts. Bring a properly notarized statement of account first thing on the morrow. My exchequer will review them and pay all valid debts, with a ten percent late fee. But they had BETTER be valid expenses."
The men counted themselves lucky and hurried away as Roland quietly knocked on the door.
The 5’10” man removed his helmet to show flowing chocolate lock of hair, sweat matted from riding, and clear steel grey eyes.
"Hello? It is I Roland...returning to a house gone mad.” He kicked open the door to find a skeleton staff huddled inside. Defending them in the front was the maid who was also the Seneschal of the home, Charlotte de la Grange. He paused to look up at her with some sense of awe, for the woman exceeded seven feet in height, and was both widely and powerfully built.
As a boy of ten, when she was 16, her already mountainous breasts had soothed him when he fell and he remembered well her carrying him home and how thrilled he’d been at her touch. He’d wanted her as he grew older, but his parents would never have approved and the marriage arrangement had long been in place. Now none of that mattered.
He ignored the amazed glances of his men as he went into her arms, whispering, “Oh Charlotte, they made me be such a bad boy. But I’ve brought home such treasure that money will never be a problem. Are…are they really gone?”
His head came up, “Men, fan out and secure the grounds. Speak to the chef and buy anything he needs, for tonight we feast in honor of my parents, and of loyal Charlotte, who has maintained my home.”
He looked up at her, “Take me to where we can speak alone and tell me of what has transpired.” It was obvious he was close to breaking down.
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 the 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 good Duke who left the army 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 arcane. Though Roland had been born with no sign of the Touch, he 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 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 to wed 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. They are going to fire the house!”
He had trotted after her, to see some mercenary company had, in fact, lit a building on fire to drive forth the inhabitants. He had run in, and found only a poor small girl cowering in a far corner. Wetting his cloak along with his cape, he enwrapped her and raced through the growing flames to leave the building despite pain like he had never felt. As he exited, to give the child to a grateful mother, the burning lintel of the front door came down showering him with coals.
Roland only dimly remembered the falling timbers, but the searing pain he would never forget. The force had driven him downward as it crashed down onto his chest.
When he awoke, the mother of the child was tending to his wounds. His family crest, the wild wolf had been engraved on a bronze plate in the center of his chain armor. Now that wolf’s head was burned forever across most of his chest, and the pattern of the chain links melted into his back, shoulders and upper arms. Fool that he was, in the local heat, he had dispensed with his padded coat and had had nothing underneath.
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 gone forth to win 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 showing a new way to gain victories. 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 wolf 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 combin the fortune of both their houses and he was a dutiful son. He was now twenty-two, 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.
But at her home, she was gone....having left with a tailor. He was stunned. Lord Francis her father, informed Roland that they did not have the money to repay the brideprice. The Wolf Knight snarled at him, “Then if you do not wish your home to feel the fires I bear within me, you will swear fealty to me as your lord. I will see to it that your family is not dishonored and pay your debts that you may continue here.” Having little choice, the Baronet agreed, giving Roland his title on the spot.
Slowly, he turned towards home directing his score of warriors to precede him, then rode quickly. He needed his mother's arms. Arriving at the courtyard, he looked around, but something was amiss.
The yard was only partially weeded and there was a loose shutter. Three men were banging on the front door of the manor trying to open it. One of them yelled out. "It's no good Miss Charlotte. You've staved off the bills as long as you could, but now it's come due. As debtors, we have the right to recompense. We'll just take some of the nicest furniture and call it even, then come back to bid on the property."
Roland jumped from his horse and then three men turned, looking suddenly worried as he suddenly lifted their leader from the ground and pinned him to the door with a long sword at his throat. "Who dares to threaten the estate of my parents and those within and plot to take our family belongings? Tell me so I may know who I intend to kill."
One of the men blurted. "God, it's Sir Roland, the Wolf Knight, returned from the war! Mercy Milord, but your parents are gone 18 months and naught has been paid in the last 14 since they died for food and supplies provided. The law gives us right to recompense."
Suddenly, what he said came through and Roland stepped back, staggered. "Dead? No....it's can't be." Then he collected himself. "Fear not for your debts. Bring a properly notarized statement of account first thing on the morrow. My exchequer will review them and pay all valid debts, with a ten percent late fee. But they had BETTER be valid expenses."
The men counted themselves lucky and hurried away as Roland quietly knocked on the door.
The 5’10” man removed his helmet to show flowing chocolate lock of hair, sweat matted from riding, and clear steel grey eyes.
"Hello? It is I Roland...returning to a house gone mad.” He kicked open the door to find a skeleton staff huddled inside. Defending them in the front was the maid who was also the Seneschal of the home, Charlotte de la Grange. He paused to look up at her with some sense of awe, for the woman exceeded seven feet in height, and was both widely and powerfully built.
As a boy of ten, when she was 16, her already mountainous breasts had soothed him when he fell and he remembered well her carrying him home and how thrilled he’d been at her touch. He’d wanted her as he grew older, but his parents would never have approved and the marriage arrangement had long been in place. Now none of that mattered.
He ignored the amazed glances of his men as he went into her arms, whispering, “Oh Charlotte, they made me be such a bad boy. But I’ve brought home such treasure that money will never be a problem. Are…are they really gone?”
His head came up, “Men, fan out and secure the grounds. Speak to the chef and buy anything he needs, for tonight we feast in honor of my parents, and of loyal Charlotte, who has maintained my home.”
He looked up at her, “Take me to where we can speak alone and tell me of what has transpired.” It was obvious he was close to breaking down.
