Blood Red Hand: The Dukes of Ulster

[frogbeastegg]

Blood Red Hand: The Dukes of Ulster 1066

Content warning as demanded by amphibian censorship
Excessive death warning: more than 1,000 people die in the first 100 pages.
Language warning: Culad tends to be upset when his vassals betray him.
Other language warning: this does contain jokes you may or may not get.
Content warning: this is not a happy happy story, Bad Things happen.
Other content warning: features assorted deaths caused by people accidentally falling on daggers and similar.
Horror warning: the assorted outcomes of the various marriages may give you nightmares.
Character warning: Fionnghualla should not be imitated at home for the sake of the mental welfare of nearby bystanders.
Morality warning: this story has medieval morals, people do things that are not acceptable today.
Other morality warning: people kiss. And stuff. Mush exists.
Health warning: this story may damage your eyes, it is long, very long.
Addiction warning: many users of Red hand have reported a growing need to find out what happens next.
Other addiction warning: that mush appears to be even more addicitve than the rest of the story.
Racial warning: features jokes at the expense of the Normans.
History warning: this story is not exactly accurate, all nitpickers should avoid.
Child warning: unfortunately the editors could find no way to remove this peril; read at your own risk.


Principle Characters
In the court of Uliad.
Culad (the Lusty) of Uliad: duke of Ulster and Our Hero.
Donchad of Uliad: marshal, and all round reckless maniac.
Margaret Atheling: one of the last two members of the Saxon Atheling royal family. An acquired taste.
Nuala O’Fearghails: Wishing for a quiet life, but she needs a better fairy godmother.
Fionnghualla: sometimes spymaster, other times courtier, always a bitch
Eve of Mar: seventeen going on forty
GillaÍsu: an early gambler
DubEssa: in possession of a cute smile
Ayd: steward
Gofraid: chancellor, bald.
Tagd: courtier
Toirrdelbach: courtier
Mathgamain: courtier, eventually steward
Seoán: courtier
Enna: captain of the watch in Culad’s army
Eogan: second in command of Culad’s infantry
Pilib: captain of Culad’s cavalry unit
Tomas: eventually second in command of Culad’s infantry
Dunsleive: married to Fionnghualla, God save him Donchad’s elder brother
Colban: Father Abbot’s not so favourite monk

Enemies of Ulster
Aed O’Neill: count of Tir Eoghain, caught between a rock and a hard place
Connor: marshal to Aed
Sigtryg: count of Tir Connail, rebellious vassal, and debonair villain.
Fionna: spymaster to Sigtryg, the kind of girl your mother warned you about.
Brigida: Sigtryg’s wife, not at all distressed at being snatched from her intended and very happy indeed as countess. Really. This is true.
Éicnechán: eventually marshal to Aed
Roolb: eventually marshal to Sigtryg
Niall: wishing he was Sigtryg, because then he’d get his bride back

Assorted others
Conchbar: Duke of Dublin, so old he may be a fossil
Mael-Isu: bishop of Mide and vassal of Conchbar. Big Bad Bishop.
Imag: Mael-Isu’s mistress
Énrí: Mael-Isu’s son.
Cristina, Derbáil, Brigit and Una: too pretty for their own good
Mor: a redhead, daughter of one of Culad’s knights
The O’Fearghails: a family with ambition and, um more ambition
Sir Guy de Brittany: A hooked fish
Cathaoir: a horseman (with a head)
Agatha: sleeping with the enemy?
Eamonn: bucket brigade
Bécc: also in the bucket brigade
A brunette: trouble
A boy: slippery as an eel
A pedlar: actually a evil, cunning agent™ of Sigtryg’s
Assorted peasants: grubby
A gaggle of lady’s maids to assorted ladies: giggly
A big helping of assorted personal servants, squires etc: being useful in a way that makes them indispensable (they hope)
Assorted soldiers in various armies: dead or getting there
Assorted messengers: usually arriving at just the wrong time…
Assorted menial servants: busy in a lazy kind of way
A handful of wetnurses: left holding the baby(s)
A midwife: formidable



January 1066
In the heart of Ulster, inside a small stone castle two men sat at a table talking strategy over a map of Ireland. “Culad you must marry” insisted Donchad of Uliad, his wild light brown hair; big eyebrows and upturned nose making him look like the court jester, rather than the Duke’s marshal and most trusted arm. Culad turned to his cousin and clapped him on the shoulder, “Since when were you a churchman, Donchad? Talking on about marriage like I actually need to get married, well I’ll say I do not”
“Culad you’re 24 now-“
“Aye – young and fit, so not in need of wife to ruin my health I’m quite happy as I am.”
“Playing with any girl who catches your eye, you mean?”
“Of course” Culad winked at his cousin, “And you can’t say you’re any different Donchad.”
“I can at that – I’m not the duke and I have no pressing need of an heir. Think of Ulster, Culad – you must have an heir.” Culad’s mood soured, “You’ll not come into my war room, in my castle, in my province, in my dukedom and tell me what to do – cousin or no I have an heir-“
“Aye, and you’re besieging him for his disloyalty” flung back Donchad stabbing a finger at the province of Tir Eeghain on the map spread on the table in front of them, “That’s why we’re here, remember? Your problems with your only heir War tearing the Dukedom apart Sigtryg count of Tir Connail, and his ambition setting up claim on his inheritance early, and Aed O’Neill agreeing his claim on your Dukedom You have nothing but Uliad left, no heir, and a levy of just 600 men”
“I know that” snapped back Culad petulantly, “I know all this, we’re here to fight a war and you’re yakking on about a wife while I’m trying to plan strategy” Donchad pressed his point, “Elective succession has been a disaster for Ulster Culad, and we need allies. Get married, have a few sons, change the law, and pass it all on to them.”
“If there’s anything left to pass on.” Culad morosely stared at his lost lands on the map, “That’s far from certain now, and if the pox raddled bishop of Mide persuades his God conscious liege to enter the fray we’re in trouble so deep it would take a miracle to pull us out.”
“I’m seeing to the bishop, don’t you fear.” Donchad pointed to one of the castles in the territory of Mide on the map, “You see that small castle there? That’s where our holy bishop keeps his mistress. Pity for him the girl’s rather keen on one of my agents, and she’ll not be wanting her gold mine of a bishop to go to war on her sweetheart, so she’s applying certain…pressures to Mael-Isu and keeping him at home. Our little bishop is quite besotted with her, in a quiet way that he hopes won’t get back to the Pope.” Culad slapped a hand on the table, his bad mood forgotten in light of this news, “Ah Donchad, now I remember why I put up with your damn whining and let you be my marshal”
“So it’s just us and our dear departed friends, Aed and Sigtryg in this war for now. If we strike quickly we can bring them to heel, and you’ll have a Dukedom to pass on to your son.”
“Ah, not that again” Culad slammed his fist down on the table, “I’ll not hear more of your pestering – as bad as any wife I do swear”
“But a lady generally looks better in a frock than me, and you know it.” Donchad tried a different approach, “You know I’m hearing rumours about you…” Culad’s head snapped up, “What rumours?”
“Well you’re well known for your interest in the ladies, Culad the Lusty…”
“Aye, and I’ll build a church or two to save my soul from hell. What of it?”
“All these years, and many women with their names attached to yours, and yet…no, I’ll not be saying that.”
“Out with it man”
“It grieves me to say it, and I don’t believe that you are incapable no matter how many utter it, but you’ve got no children and you know how people are. Not a single bastard, not even a rumoured bastard - people are wondering if you’re even up to it-”
“What?” Culad stared at his cousin totally aghast, “Truly?”
“It’s why so many have flocked to Sigtryg’s cause, he seems more likely to provide a future for Ulster.”
“That man’s 35, and equally childless And you – you’re of an age to me, and also lacking off-spring.” Donchad carefully placed the second piece of his plan, “Well there’s the rumour of a certain boy out in a fishing village Sigtryg passed through, I’m hearing he looks like a splitting image of Sigtryg. And well, “ Donchad allowed a smile to slip on his face, “I’ve got my beautiful little Nuala.” Culad looked at his cousin, trying to decide if he was bluffing or not, “I’ve not heard of Nuala before, or any other child of yours.”
“She’s got golden hair like ripening corn, a very pretty smile, and looks just like her mother.” Donchad played the third part of his plan, “Now you see why the rumour’s so bad. You could kill two bird with one stone – marry some noble girl, have a few children killing off the rumours and setting up a better inheritance and future for Ulster. People will be loyal to a man with good secure succession, and heaven knows we need no more rebellions. Marry well enough, with a good dowry, and we could even take on the bishop of Mide and his liege lord after settling our traitors nicely.”
“Really? Well…” Culad though a moment before sighing in resignation, “So be it – go get me a bride. Make sure she’s pretty; you know my taste well enough. Young too, good family’s a must or I’ll not gain much prestige and I need to inspire a bit of worship from my peasants right now. Get a good dowry then – enough to settle Ulster back under my control and to expand our borders into Dublin…I like the sounds of ‘Culad, Duke of Ulster and Dublin’ and if I’ve got to do this dynastic thing now I might as well make it worthwhile. Best make sure she’s got a good reputation, for I’ll not have my children’s parentage under suspicion, not since I’m squashing that ugly rumour. Oh, and make sure this bride’s-”
“Alright, I get the picture” Donchad held up his hands as if to physically ward off the flow of requests, “I’ve got one in mind actually. Margaret Atheling from the court of England, she’s very suitable. If you could just affix your seal here…” Donchad produced a parchment making the request for Margaret’s hand in marriage to Culad, and placed it on the table before his lord. Culad skim read it, and let slip an appreciative laugh, “You’ve been planning this all along You’ve forced my hand into agreeing to this You rogue I should make you my spy master as well as my marshal”
“Actually Margaret is quite renowned for her intrigue skills. I thought she might fit the position very well. Multi purpose wife.”
“Damn you” chuckled Culad, stamping his official seal on the document, “Send it off before I change my mind then. Of course you’ll come to my wedding – bring your Nuala too. I’d like to see this daughter of yours.”
“Forgive me cousin, but if she comes it’ll be as my betrothed, rather than my daughter.”
“No More trickery?” Donchad smiled, his face brightening as he thought of his betrothed, “She’s 19, and just as I described earlier. She’s stolen my heart, and I suspect she’ll trample all over it too – I’m here straight from asking her father’s permission. She’s talking about buying new clothes already, and refurnishing my little castle…she’s going to trample all over my poor heart, and I have this foreboding feeling I’m going to enjoy it.”
“Well I’ll be I never thought you’d get stuck down, especially not in your prime like this. Donchad, my dear cousin and friend, I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“If you’re already talking about being trampled by some girl then you’re gone – you were unbeatable in combat, but I can see you’re too soft for that now. I’ll make you head of my wardrobe, and let someone with a stomach be my marshal”
“You tease me, and you’ll not be losing my sword. I’m the fierce warrior I ever was, and you’ll be letting someone else mess about with fashion, not I.”
“I’ll just be hoping that they don’t suborn your Nuala and send her into battle against us, or you’ll stand in the field of battle mooning like a love struck fool while we all get cut down”

Aed O’Neill, count of Tir Eoghain was supervising the drilling of his levy when the messenger arrived. Bowing low the man offered Aed a letter, “From Lord Sygtrig and of the utmost urgency.”. Aed took the letter and moved a few steps away to read it in private. When he had finished reading the note Aed ripped it up into small pieces and stuffed what was left into his belt pouch. “Is there an answer Lordship?” inquired the messenger nervously. Aed nodded, “Tell Sigtryg that it will be done, and to be sure that he’ll back me up when the time comes.” The messenger hurried off, and Aed waved over his second in command, “Connor, come here man. How many men have we got total here?”
“240 men exactly Lordship, that’s all the warriors in the province.”
“I want some peasants Connor.”
“Peasants’ll be no good in fighting Lordship, begging your pardon but it’s true.”
“Peasants can fill ranks, with a bit of drilling they might even march in a straight line. I want 100 peasants drafted and trained secretly, swap them with good men from our levy. Add another 400 peasants to make the levy look bigger than truth, be sure they look like they know which end of a spear to stick in a foe When our duke comes to assert his might we’ll have a surprise waiting for him.” Connor tugged his forelock, “As you command, Lordship.” Aed moved towards his small unit of knights, intent on hammering his bodyguard into peak condition before the fighting began, tossing the remains of the message onto one of the cooking fires as he went. “Oh aye, a surprise for our would-be Lordling.”






And so it begins...

Firstly this does not mean I have abandoned Eleanor, I can easily write two tales at once. As I get stuck on one I move across to the other.

Secondly this story is based on my current game in Crusader Kings, as the Duke of Ulster. The characters are all real, the traits they have in-game decide their personality on the page. Events, likewise, are taken from the game. I have altered a few details here and there to make for better reading, for example Culad is now over a decade younger and Donchad is his cousin instead of some strange guy with no ties to the house of Uliad. The whole thing is very different in tone to my other work, only funny by occasion, quite nasty some times, also a bit of a tragedy on a at least one occasion. Not sure if it works well enough or not.

Thankfully for my sanity the characters and their world remain firmly under my control, even if I wish to alter things dramatically from how they 'actually' happened. So no more mad, self creating princesses to torment poor froggy, the existing one and her bodyguard is more than enough This does have the side effect of making everyone and everything somehow less good, but since I have my hands full with the gooseberry I don't mind too much.

Does anyone want a map of Ireland and its in-game provinces? I can provide one easily, so long as it can go on the story space. Ditto pictures of the main characters.

EDITED: to include character list which will be updated as new faces appear.

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ April 23 2004,23:49)]Margaret is quite renowned for her intrigue skills.
Will Fulk be coming too? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-jester.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-jester.gif

Seriously, I like it so far. How long do you want this to end up? (how many chapters, I mean)

[frogbeastegg]

Fulk's run off with some tart called Margaret? Eleanor is not going to be happy I never suspected a thing either, I thought he was still crazy about princess Gooseberry... What a rat Even more so in light of recent events outside the current story's timeline. I just don't believe it.

Margaret's spy skills come from her stats, not my invention. 10 in intregue, 10 in diplomacy, 6 in martial and 4 in stewardship. She also has the suspicious trait - a born spymaster.

As for how long this is going to be that depends on how far I write. My overall ambition in-game is to become king of Ireland, nothing more. However that will take until Culad's grandchildren's days, maybe even great grandchildren. I will certainly write until the end of this war, and maybe the bits that follow that. I would guess the story will be about 20-40 pages if I just write that bit, not sure how many pages past that. I'll ber posting new bits as they are written, no specific timing for them and no set places to stop the story until the next part. It all depends on where it gets hard to write and/or too long to read comfortably.

[Axeknight]

One thing about this that interests me is that you're still playing as you write it. So it could all end in ignomonious defeat. That means that the story won't ever become predictable, cause you might just make a stupid mistake in the game. I like that idea http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

[frogbeastegg]

“Aed O’Neill answers that what you say will be done, Lordship. He says he’ll look for your support when it is right.”
“Excellent, you may go.” the messenger bowed and left, and count Sigtryg turned to his spymaster, “What was your report?” Fionna quickly stepped forward and began her report, “Culad’s marrying, Lordship, Margaret Atheling from the court of England. He’s also sending out feelers into county Mide to delay the bishop from entering our feud, bribing his mistress to influence matters.”
“Married you say? Well, well…” Sigtryg leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin, deep in thought, “I never thought he had it in him, and an English wife at that. Now you’d say that’s a lack of faith in our good Irish blood, seeking a foreign wife like that?” Sigtryg’s court rushed to agree with him, a sea of voices calling condemnation on Culad’s folly and unworthiness to lead Ulster. Sigtryg held up his hand, and at once the room quietened, “And it’s such as this that claims to be our duke, well I’ll be saying he’s proved again he’s not fit I too will marry, but a fine Irish girl, for I’m not seeing any fault in our blood” the room filled with cheers, Sigtryg allowed them to continue for a few seconds before holding up a hand, again calling for silence, “Let it be announced I will take Brigida for a wife in three days from now. Begin the preparations.” This time there were no cheers, eventually Fionna stepped forward and nervously spoke the doubt on everyone’s minds, “Lordship, it’s well known that Brigida has been spoken for…”
“I say that is not so.”
“Lordship her father, and her betrothed…they will not be pleased.” Sigtryg brushed this concern aside, “Her father will be pleased she has gone so far in this world, her betrothed will be silent or be silenced – I trust you can arrange that, spymaster? For if not I’ll have me a new spymaster, aye and a new court who sees my glories, not these petty trifles that stand not in my way” There was an uneasy quiet, before Fionna curtseyed and stepped back, and the courtiers began to congratulate their count on his impending wedding. Sigtryg spoke again, in a loud and clear voice, “As to our ally and great friend, the Bishop of Mide, well I say that I’m confidant he will soon see the truth of the matter and come rushing to our side. He’ll not be tarrying with some wench when his divine duty calls. And let it be seen that I, unlike that nothing in Uliar, do not tarnish my soul with such low tricks, nor do I influence things in unnatural ways Court dismissed” As the people filed out of the room, gossiping about the wedding and agreeing loudly that their lord was very different to Culad, Fionna lingered, certain that her lord would want to speak to her. She was right, as soon as they were alone Sigtryg waved her over and said quietly, “I have boundless faith in the Almighty, but even God can use a hand from time to time. Show the Bishop’s mistress a thing or two about divine fury, for I’ll have that Bishop on the field at my side or I’ll be duty bound to send a quiet word to the Holy Father in Rome, it’d be a shame to see a pious man take such a fall.”

Culad stared gloomily across the crowded hall at his new wife and took a large gulp of his mead, “She’s got dark hair.” he accused. Donchad tried to cheer his friend up, “You’ll adapt, come on – it’s your wedding day, be happy or at least try to look happy. Right now you’re looking like curdled cheese”
“And dark eyes. I told you to find someone I’d like.”
“You might like her if you did more than stand as far away from her as possible, drinking.”
“I did try.” Culad muttered. Donchad prompted him, “Well? What happened?” Culad remembered the short meeting he had had with his bride the day before. He’d asked what she thought about their impending marriage, she had replied ‘It was judged best for me by my liege lord, how can I disagree with that?’. He’d answered that with ‘My cousin thought it best for me, how can I dispute that?’ and for a second Margaret had looked at him, instead of beyond him. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else to say, and she soon went back to polite distantness. Apart from that incident she had met his sulky resignation with polite coldness; somehow Culad didn’t want to admit his famous charm had failed spectacularly for once, “She’s too tall.”
“You’d chased after taller, aye and with a silly smile on your face too.”
“She’s so…” Culad hesitated, drank another gulp of mead and continued before he thought better of it, “She hates me.”
“Ah you’ll charm her, same as ever.”
“Somehow I don’t think so.”
“Well then think of it so; you’ll not be needing to like her, merely father a son or two and that’s all. You can visit other women for liking, and place yonder wife in a lonely house you never visit.” Culad finished off his mead and grabbed another cup full from a passing servant, downed half of that in one go and resumed staring unhappily at Margaret, “You know being hated is quite off-putting.”
“Then think of the money you gained – enough to fight the entire year out”
“I think the money hates me too.”
“For God’s sake man, stop your whinging You’ve killed several birds with one stone, all your court is here agreeing how lovely your new wife looks – even if you don’t like dark you’ve got to admit that much, and that’s not even charity but honest truth You’ll be gone from here on campaign inside of a week, and soon you’ll have defeated your traitors and set thing to right. Then you’ll be able to take to the field against the lords of Dublin, and the bards’ll proclaim your glory through the ages just like Cuchulain and Finn MacCool. All you have to do is pretend to be happy for one night, so smile and be nice”
“Easy for you to say, you’re the one who got me in this mess and you’re also the one who’ll not be marrying someone wishing you dead”
“You’re exaggerating.” Donchad wrested the cup of mead from his cousin’s hand, “And stop drinking She’ll not thank you for turning up drunk”
“She’ll not thank me for turning up at all.” Culad noticed Margaret looking at him from a knot of female courtiers, “Look – see The ways she’s looking at me you’d think I’m the plague made human and dancing away with rotting bits falling off onto the floor” Culad grabbed another drink and tried to gulp it down, only to have his cup stolen by Donchad, “Looks to me more like she’s scared, now you can’t blame that since she doesn’t know anyone here being from England, and you’re hardly making her feel welcome and at ease.”
“I wish she’d go back to England, preferably immediately.” Donchad handed both of his intercepted drinks off to a nearby servant, grasped Culad firmly by the shoulders and turned him to face his bride, and gave him a push to get him walking, “Aye, but what you’re going to do is go over there and talk to her and be nice – nice Got that? Nice, be charming or something, you got that reputation for a reason now go put your skills to use It’s getting late in the evening, and you know what that means.”. Culad dug his heels in, “A condemned prisoner gets less from his executioner” Donchad pushed his friend step by stubborn step over towards the knot of courtiers containing the unhappy bride. He hissed in Culad’s ear, “Talk for a bit, then do your duty, get it over with, and be nice” and with one final shove propelled Culad into the middle of the group. Stumbling slightly Culad found himself looking into a pair of deep brown eyes in a closed and wary face. What did the famous lover say to his new wife? “Um, er…hello?”

The next morning Culad met Donchad and the rest of his court in the war room. As Culad walked through the door the room erupted into bawdy jokes, and Donchad pressed a goblet of wine into his hand, slapped him on the back and asked, “How’d it go then, get much sleep?” Crossly Culad pushed his cousin away, “I don’t want to talk about it”. The room stilled to a hushed silence as Culad sat down and swirled the wine about in his goblet. Cautiously one man whispered to his neighbours, “Well that’d be a first then.”, another man nodded and muttered back, “Aye, usually he won’t shut up.”. Again the room went silent as Culad continued to play with his wine, lost in a world of his own. Ayd, the Steward, cleared his throat noisily, “So, the plans of attack then?” Culad didn’t move, or give any sign that he had even heard Ayd speak. Donchad tapped his cousin on the shoulder, Culad started, spilling his wine before blinking and ridding himself of whatever thoughts were occupying his mind. Ayd repeated himself, “The attack, Lordship.”
“We leave as soon as possible.” stated Culad confidently, “Tomorrow morning at the latest, today if possible. The entire levy’ll be going, with myself at the head and Donchad as marshal at my right. Not a single man will stay here to defend our homes, for we’ll need every available body on the field of battle to win through this. We’ll be taking down Aed first, then going for Sigtryg. Once Ulster is united again we’ll see to the Bishop and Conchbar, Duke of Meath and count of Dublin.” Donchad spoke up gravely, “We’ve had news of our advance force, and it’s not good. They were forced to retreat; enemy reinforcements arrived and lifted the siege. Our small force of 50 stood no chance. There’s worse, I do fear. Aed wasn’t even in that hill fort – we were out tricked, and I’m not certain of what trickery lies ahead neither.” Donchad hurried to defend himself, “I’m no spy, leave me fight the battles and let someone else do the cloak and dagger”
“We could use a spymaster, Lordship, to counter the tricks of our foes.” ventured Gofraid, an old man in his 60’s and as bald as a coot. Culad nodded, “Very well. Any suggestions?” The councilmen looked at each other and arrived at a mutual conclusion without speaking. Donchad gave their verdict, “The lady Margaret would be the best we have, by far and away.”
“No suggestions then?” said Culad, ignoring what his kinsman had said, “I’ll speak then. Tagd, the post is yours, so serve me well. Any more business? No, then I’ll be off now. We march tomorrow.” and with that he swept out of the room. The council sat in stunned silence for a while, before Donchad rose to his feet and made towards the door, “I’d best go see what I can find out, for he’s in the worst temper I’ve ever seen.”

Acting on a hunch based off his long time friendship with his cousin Donchad made his way to the stables, and sure enough there was Culad saddling his horse and making ready to ride. Culad studiously ignored his kinsman’s presence until Donchad spoke, “Will you not say what’s bothering you Culad?” Culad didn’t look up from tightening his horse’s girth strap, “You pushed for this marriage, and you got it, and you’ve made two people very unhappy, and bound together in that for life. Be happy with your creation.”
“It can’t be so bad, surely not.”
“That it can.”
“Culad-” The duke of Ulster rounded on his cousin, “No, don’t be saying any more of your nice words, for this is a mess and both partners in this marriage know it – there’s the one thing my wife and I have in common and isn’t it a pretty and precious little thing? She’s terrified of me, lonely and lost in a strange land. I’m not sure what to do with her myself, and that makes me stammer like a fool – me, the famed lover not sure what to do I hate that And you think from this we’ll be happy? Well cousin I say not and doubtless she’d agree” Culad mounted his horse and started it at a walk towards the castle gate. Donchad jogged after him, “Things may change, Margaret-”
“You know what that name puts me in mind of now?” Culad reined in his horse and glared down at his cousin, “Crying, that’s what, and most like my name has the same effect on her memory. Duty never made anyone happy.” with that Culad kicked his horse into a canter and rode away.






Of course Culad and Margaret being miserable isn't in the game, but it's as good an explantion for certain events and timings as any.

[Axeknight]

You're probably getting tired of my comments by now, but here goes http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

I liked the 'do your duty' bit - v. funny. Is Fionna (Sigtryg's spymaster) a girl? Is it a spelling of Fiona, or an Irish gaelic name?

[frogbeastegg]

I never get tired of comments, while I write for personal fun it is always pleasant to hear of someone else who liked my scribblings, or to hear how I can improve.

Do your duty, I found that rather sad really...well I must admit Culad being pushed over to his wife, and not being able to think of anything to say was quite funny. Their relationship right now is pretty damn terible, but it is funny somehow, even though it shouldn't be.

Fionna is a female name, since you can have female spy masters, chancellors and stewards. Marshals and Diocese bishops are limited to men only though. Fionna is just an alternate spelling of Fiona...or it is a froggy spelling mistake of Fiona, one of the two http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif

[frogbeastegg]

The next morning in the grounds of castle Uliad Culad and his personal bodyguard were assembling, making ready to ride out at the head of the levy. Twenty men dressed in long mail hauberks, with spangenhelms and large shields in the Norman style, clattered about as they stowed the last of their gear on their packhorses, gave orders to their squires, saw that their warhorses were well taken care of, and mounted their palfreys to spare the energy of the great destriers for battle. The twenty-first man was already mounted up and ready to go, his helm hung on his saddle by its chinstraps and the mail coif pushed back onto his shoulders. Culad was staring at a window in the stone keep, oblivious to the bustle taking place about him, once again lost in dreary thought. The window was empty, not a soul visible inside that room. His wife had not come down to see him off, and she was not watching from her window. Culad was surprised to find that he was disappointed, ”Why am I even bothered?” he thought, ”This way avoids awkward scenes, at the very least.” Wrenching his gaze away from the castle window Culad noticed Donchad striding across the courtyard towards him; dressed in a mail hauberk and padded aketon the same as the cavalry guard, with a sword belted about his waist. He had left his other equipment along with his horse in the hands of his squire. Donchad halted next to his kinsman and saluted, “The infantry contingent is ready to move out at your order.”
“Good.” Culad looked back at his own bodyguard, the only cavalry his army possessed, and saw they were still finishing their preparations. Donchad grinned, “I see the cavalry’s as slow as ever, you’d not be needing the horses if you moved a bit quicker on your own feet”
“You’re just sour because I ordered you to the infantry instead of letting you command my cavalry. Well I’ll say it again – I’m not having both leaders in the one unit, and you’ll hardly be seeing a duke marching while his marshal rides into battle now.”
“Aye, fair enough and I always preferred fighting on my own two feet anyhow. It’s harder to fall off them for a start, and they’re not having a mind of their own either” Donchad saw Culad was looking up at the window again, and asked, “Did you say goodbye to your wife?”
“Well…”
“Culad Look the sooner you have an heir or two the sooner you can forget she exists. Besides if you try to get to know her you might like her.”
“I did go” protested Culad defensively. Donchad tutted, “Well why didn’t you say so How’d it go?”
“She, er she…she locked the door in my face.” mumbled Culad. Donchad laughed in disbelief, “What? You, the famous Culad the Lusty, getting thrown out by your wife? What on earth did she say?”
“Er, something about duty’s done, me needing all my energy for the upcoming battles, and anyway she has a headache.”
“What did you say to that then?”
“Um…nothing actually. No one’s ever said no before, and I wasn’t inclined to press matters. Er, don’t tell anyone? I’d not like people to get the wrong idea, or other such foolery.”
“Dear Lord You’ve been trampled, routed in battle, beaten by a superior foe, crushed-“
“Yes, yes, enough already Let’s go kill some rebels, and hope things go better there than they have here. And mind that you’ll be in the same boat when you’re married, so less of the mockery.”
“Oh I do doubt that, and anyway that’ll be some time in happening – Nuala’s father said no.”
“He disagreed to your suit? Why? You’re the second highest man in Uliad, surely not one to be turned down.”
“Not turned down as such, more like told to come back later. He has this strange thing about my getting killed in your little war here; he’s not overly keen to see his daughter a widow inside of a half-year. I do wonder what he’s about, for we’ve both done our share of fighting before and neither of us died, or if we did I hadn’t noticed it.”
“Ah, old men always worry, about death most of all since the reaper is so close on their heels”
“Aye, well I’ll be coming home for our little war covered in glory and then I’ll be asking again. Who could refuse a victorious warrior, especially a victorious marshal?” The conversation was interrupted by the captain of Culad’s bodyguard coughing to alert them to his presence, “Lordship we are ready to move at your command.”
“I’d best get back to my infantry, “said Donchad, Culad nodded, and Donchad left. The unit of cavalry formed up into a column 4 wide, with the baggage, spare horses, and squires at the back, and with Culad at the head they rode out through the gateway of the courtyard and out into the fields where the infantry awaited. As he rode along the road to take his place at the front of the army Culad surveyed his forces. Nearly five hundred spearmen, all with six-foot long spears and round wooden shields of various sizes, most of the spearmen had at least an aketon to protect their body. Some richer men had simple helmets, and a very few wore short mail shirts. ”A good enough core,” thought Culad, ”They’ll be reliable enough and well trained in the spearwall by now.” Scattered here and there throughout the infantry were archers and light infantry skirmishers, about a hundred in all. They would support the spearwall, drive off enemy ranged units, and try to break the enemy shield wall by killing men at key points as the two armies closed for battle. Smallest in number, but perhaps the most valuable of all, were the heavy infantrymen. They were kitted out like Donchad and the cavalry guard in full mail hauberks, conical spangenhelms, and using large full body shields. Each man was armed with a two-handed battle-axe and a sword. These men were professionals, the elite of the infantry, and the ones who would be responsible for keeping morale in the spearwall high. Dispersed in the front ranks of the spearwall they would swing their axes in a deadly, never ending pattern that would cleave a man in two if he were foolish enough to get in the way. Culad was worried by how few of these men there were, dangerously few, and maybe not enough to keep morale steady and put fear into the hearts of the foe. With a pang Culad noticed one man saying goodbye to a woman, who was busy fussing over him, and most likely telling him to be careful. He finally realised why the absence of Margaret had bothered him – this was the first time he had left to fight without someone to see him off, usually it was him with the woman pleading with him to come back alive and in one piece, and promising dire retribution if he didn’t. “But which would be worse?” Culad wondered, “The not having anyone at all, or the fact I’d know she’d be happier if I didn’t come back?”

Aed was dining when Connor reported to him, “Lordship, Culad is on the march. He’ll be at our border inside of a week.”
“So, campaigning in late January while the weather’s foul…our duke obliges us with his eagerness. Let him march up and down the province in the mud and weather, wasting his resources and men. He can take a hill fort or two, but we’ll not give direct battle. Harass his lines, kill a man here and a man there, but lose as few as possible yourself, for I’m only giving you that hundred of good men we set aside. Make him over confidant in his victory, for we’re naught but cowards who fear his might. Keep him occupied for as long as possible, I’ll be running in terror with my levy to guard me, off to hide and cower like a baby.”
“Lordship” protested Connor, shocked and disgusted by his liege’s orders. Aed smirked, “Then when he’s spent much of his power and is confidant of easy victory we’ll be calling on Sigtryg and enacting our plan, and that’ll be putting an end to him. What’s the loss of a few wood huts and the local peasant militia who’ll manning the walls? Nothing, not when the dukedom is at stake. How long can you keep him occupied chasing after you and laying siege to our less important hill forts?”
“A month at least, given the time of year and the roads being bad to travel, maybe longer. If your Lordship could be seen by people at the far ends of the province from time to time it’d help, for our duke’ll gladly chase off after you in a bid to bring you to heel quickly, and if he’s chasing ghosts that’ll slow him still further.”
“I do doubt the dedication of our militias and how glad they’ll be to die for our cause. Best put word about that Culad will be killing all who surrender to him, and that he’ll be oppressing the people if he takes this province – you know the kind of thing that’ll put some spine in those farmers.”

[frogbeastegg]

For the past 11 days Culad’s army had been camped outside a minor hill fort just past the border between Uliad and Tir Eoghain, starving the garrison out, as assault was judged too costly for a small army with many battles ahead. Inside his command tent Culad was discussing strategy with his generals. “It cannot continue so.” reported Enna, the watch captain, “We’re losing men from these raids and doing little in return, and it’s harming morale. We cannot be letting our sentries and patrols be picked off like this”
“Have you tried sending out lager patrols?” asked Eogan, second in command of the infantry. “Aye, that was the first thing,” Enna didn’t try to hide the scorn in his voice, “I’m no boy playing at soldiers, and I know my craft These raiders are canny though, and they’ll avoid any large groups, only to attack some small party elsewhere. We’ve not been able to pin them down, not at all.”
“How many men are in these raiding parties?” asked Culad. Enna shrugged his shoulders, “We’re estimating about four score, mayhap more but it’s hard to tell.”
“It seems to me that they’re wanting a good target,” mused Culad, “And if we’re obliging and provide that target we’ll be the piper calling the tune.”
“But what kind of target?” asked Donchad, with a creeping suspicion as to the answer. Culad slowly smiled, “Why the duke of Ulster, nearly alone and unguarded, ripe for the killing.”

Two days later Culad and his mounted bodyguards rode along the road, far from the safety of the siege camp set up outside the nearby enemy hill fort. Without hesitating Culad continued to follow the road, leading his troop into a thicket of trees with no care for scouting ahead. When the troop was about half way through the trees everything turned to chaos, armed men poured out of the bushes and foliage, blocking the escape routes and moving to attack. Culad levelled his lance and kicked his horse into a gallop, aiming to break through enemy lines with a charge, and hoping at least some of his men would be able to follow him. He didn’t reach full speed, there wasn’t space, but all the same horse and rider smashed into the thin line of enemy infantry, who jumped out of the way in panicked fear. One man wasn’t fast enough, and Culad’s lance speared him through the chest. Immediately Culad released his lance and drew his sword while still recovering from the recoil of his impact, slowing his horse and turning back towards the fighting. With his charge halted the three closest survivors gained courage and moved in to kill him. Culad encouraged his horse to rear and kick at the two men in front of him, they dodged back from the flailing hooves, and Culad slashed at another man on his right side, trying to keep the men at distance. A spear lunged at him, by reflex Culad leaned to one side, out of its path, but he felt a line of fire burn across his right hand. The owner of the spear howled as Culad’s horse bit his arm, and Culad finished the man off with a slashing blow to the shoulder, struggling to keep a grip on a sword hilt made slippery by his own blood. Suddenly, without warning Culad’s horse reared wildly, pitching him from his saddle. He landed sprawled on the ground, winded and vulnerable, and only just able to roll out of the way as one of the enemy lunged at him with a sword. Sensing victory the two nearby men closed in on him, giving him no time to regain his feet. Then someone was there, sheltering Culad under his shield and giving him time to regain his feet. Culad greeted his rescuer, “Damn you man You took your sweet time” Donchad fainted at one man, “Well your fools plan called for us to be a long way back And you’ll know how slow infantry move without fancy horses.” Culad spotted an opening and thrust his sword past his opponent’s guard, stabbing him in the armpit. With a scream the man collapsed, his fall wrenching the sword out of Culad’s slippery grip. Cursing Culad drew his dagger and took on a new opponent who had appeared from the melee, while Donchad felled his man with a cut to the leg that hacked through the shinbone. Over the din of the fighting a call could be heard to retreat, and slowly the enemy began to fall back. Culad didn’t join the pursuit; instead he dropped his heavy shield, pulled off his helm and wiped his sweat-streaked brow. Donchad stayed by his cousin’s side, leaving the pursuit to his officers, “Let’s be having a look at that hand of yours then.” “It’s not so bad, just a scratch that’s gone right through a vein. Where’s my horse? Cursed animal threw me, aye and how’s our status? How many lost? How many enemy killed?”
“Why can’t you be asking questions I know the answers to?” replied Donchad good-naturedly. Culad ignored him and looked about at the battlefield. There were surprisingly few bodies, either wounded or dead. A few riderless horses roamed about; under a tree some distance away Culad spotted his own horse. It was immediately apparent why he had been thrown – the stallion had an arrow protruding from its shoulder. “Lordship?” Culad turned to face the source of the voice; it belonged to the captain of his cavalry guard. The man saluted and made his report, “We’ve lost one man dead, another 3 are wounded somewhat, and almost all have scrapes and scratches but none so bad. We’re down a few horses, both dead and hurt. None so sure of our infantry though Lordship, for I’ve not had time to conduct a count of bodies, and there’ll be the pursuit to finish before any accurate tally can be made.”
“Thank you Pilib, gather our dead and wounded for transport back to camp, finish off the enemy wounded for we’ve no time to be playing with prisoners.” Pilip saluted again and left to carry out his orders. “Cousin? What’ll we be doing now then?”
“Well I’m for finding my sword, taking care of my horse, then going back to camp and getting this hand seen to before I bleed dry. You go see to your own now, Donchad.”
“Right enough, I’ll be off then.” When his kinsman had left Culad started searching for his lost sword.

That same evening Culad and his war council met again, this time to hear how the plan had gone. Donchad made the main report, “We lost 2 cavalrymen, one dead outright, the other from wounds. All others should make it back into battle within the week. From the infantry we lost 9 men killed in battle or from wounds, there are a couple mutilated and in need of releasing home, and assorted wounded who’ll be fit as fleas again soon. Now our enemy, well we’ve counted 27 bodies, and that includes those wounded we finished off. I think we put the fear into them, and they’ll not be so bold now.”
“None so bad then.” said Culad, playing absentmindedly with the bandages on his right hand, “Continue with the siege, keep the patrols of good size, and we should have solved the problem. Dismissed.” Everyone filed out of the tent except Donchad, who lingered. Culad sighed, “What is it you want to pester me about this time then?”
“It’s time you were off home for a day or two Culad, it’s been more than a month since the wedding and there’s not been any reports of impending fatherhood.”
“I’m needed here.”
“Now that’s just an excuse, for you know you’re not I can handle this siege for a few days, and if you don’t believe I can you’d best be finding a new marshal who can. I can order an army, but you’re the only one who can make your heir.”
“Thank you for putting such a blunt point on it, Donchad I do swear sometimes you’d make even the most well travelled man blush”
“Go home, Culad. You’ll have to go sooner or later, and if you go sooner you may not need to go later.”
“You remind me of my old granny telling me to go to church”
“Well she was a fine old woman with a good head on her shoulders, and doubtless she’d say the same as I – go home.”
“Ah, so be it then, if it’ll get me away from your pestering” Culad immediately started planning excuses to avoid even meeting Margaret.



Ok, so I'm no good at writing fight scenes. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-help.gif

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ April 26 2004,23:08)]“Have you tried sending out lager patrols?”
ROFL http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-jester.gif

Maybe if you put big signs all over the Guild you'll get another critic http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-jester.gif . I liked the fight scene, actually, I thought it wasn't too long, and you kept the pace up nicely.

[The Wizard]

Well, the only gripe with your fight scene is it started a bit too abruptly. But the description of the scene itself is A-OK http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-yes.gif



~Wiz

[frogbeastegg]

Sigtryg was glad he had chosen to receive this message away from the yes men of his court. “Get Fionna, and hurry about it” The messenger practically ran out the room to find the spymaster, and Sigtryg reread the message again. ‘I am far too grieved with the tragic loss of Imag to go to war, or even to speak to my liege lord on the matter. I’ll not be joining your cause, for you are to blame for this.’ Sigtryg clenched his fist, crushing the scrap of parchment into a crumpled mess, “Damn him He’ll not be doing this, not now.” he began pacing up and down the room, waiting for Fionna to arrive. About quarter of an hour later she appeared, Sigtryg didn’t give her chance to say anything, “Read this.” he demanded, thrusting the crumpled letter at the spymaster. Fionna read the note, and Sigtryg resumed his pacing, “Well what do you think to that then? You said our assassin was undetected, that there was no suspicion that could be falling on us”
“Lordship it is true, he shouldn’t have been any the wiser-”
“Aye, well he is and now we’ve got an outraged bishop to deal with We need him and his influence, and I’ll not be letting him off the hook so easily as that. Replace with me some leverage - something to work with to my advantage, and find it quickly.”

When Culad was about a mile from his home castle he spotted a small group of riders out hawking. His heart sank when he recognised the figure in the centre of the group. It was Margaret, and there was no way to avoid her. Sending his escort on ahead Culad rode over, hoping he could say a polite hello and then leave as quickly as possible. Any hope Culad had of a less than awkward reunion vanished as soon as Margaret saw him; her face fell into a mask of cold neutrality. Her companions drew back out of earshot, gossiping excitedly. Culad bought his horse to a halt next to hers, and they sat there in an uncomfortable silence for a while before Culad ventured, “No door this time.”
“No.” There was a long pause before Margaret spoke again, “How long do you plan on staying?”
“Tomorrow, the day after, then back to the fighting.”
“Oh.” Another long pause followed, before Culad answered the unspoken question, “I’m planning on claiming my wounds are too serious to do anything about an heir, I’ll say that suits us both well enough.” Margaret finally looked directly at Culad, “You were wounded?” Culad held up his bandaged hand, “Only a scratch, not so bad as you were doubtless hoping. I’ll not be dying from this.”
“Why would I wish you dead? I would only have to return to England for another diplomatic marriage.”
“You might like the next one.”
“I could do even worse.”
“Even worse.” repeated Culad bitterly, Margaret kept looking directly at him, and said equally bitterly, “I dare say you could do even worse too, someone taller, or with darker eyes.”
“You heard that? How?”
“I heard nothing.”
“Then how’d you know?” demanded Culad, “Tell me”
“I can lip read.”
“In Irish?”
“In any language I speak.”
“Damn it” exclaimed Culad, “Why did no one tell me of that?”
“You never asked.” They lapsed into silence again, Culad’s mind frenetically working to think of something to say to end this meeting. Margaret interrupted his thoughts of an escape, “You could just go.” she smiled very slightly at Culad’s surprise, “I read faces too.”
“Damn it” Culad rode off before he could embarrass himself further, certain he could hear Margaret laughing at his rapidly retreating back.

Late that evening Culad was still awake, sat in his rooms with a jug of wine, wondering how quickly he could leave without being bothered by Donchad on his return. “So you’re alone then.” Culad started, surprised by the voice. He turned around and saw Margaret stood in the doorway, silently closing the door behind herself. Culad dabbed at the wine he had spilled on his tunic, “Sweet Jesus, don’t do that Of course I’m alone, what were you expecting? To find me in a compromising position with a serving girl?”
“From your reputation, yes.”
“Aye, well I’m a mite sick of people who’re interested in the duke, but care naught for the man behind the title – besides all those gifts I had to give out were expensive, and I’d rather not be bankrupted.”
“So I am married to a retired womaniser?”
“Before you know it I’ll be a chaste monk.” said Culad, needled by her tone, “Look why are you here? Not to offer to replace that serving girl that’s for sure.”
“Not unless you order it and I can’t escape fast enough.” Margaret edged slightly closer to the door as she spoke. Culad snorted, “I always thought that clause was invented for fat, foul old men with too much interest in their young wives.”
“I always thought it was invented by them.” There was a rather shocked silence as both Culad and Margaret realised that they had almost managed to make a friendly joke. Culad took a sip of his wine; “I’m thinking we’ll both agree that we suffered enough on our wedding night, without repeating the experience.”
“What about that heir everyone is endlessly fussing about?”
“Oh I’ll just continue this elective thing, and make it known I have a new favourite to follow me.” Culad grinned wickedly, “I’m thinking I could name Donchad, for then he’ll have good reason to stop pushing me at you, making life easier for us both.” Margaret laughed, the first time Culad had seen her without the mask of cold politeness, “Now that is an interesting idea”
“I’ve this awful feeling he’ll not be happy though, Donchad’s the kind of man who’ll point out that he might rebel, and therefore he’ll not be a good heir. He’ll be complaining about not wanting to be duke because it’s too much dull work. Some folk are never happy. So you’ll stop slamming doors in my face then?” wary silence answered his question. Culad sighed, “Look I’m not over keen about getting my face smashed by a door, I’m none so bothered about an heir, I’m not a fat old man who needs to learn to grow old gracefully, and most important of all I’m really not interested in sharing a bed with someone who doesn’t want to be there – it’s damned off-putting and I’m still feeling guilty enough about last time without lumping more bad conscience onto things.”
“So you will go and bother someone else then?”
“I might just pursue that career as a monk, for a while at least – I need my gold to fund this war, and as I said before I’m sick of being a title. Er…I’d appreciate it if you didn’t take up with the court jester or something.”
“There’s little danger of that – your jester is a hunchback.”
“So we’re in agreement then? Good, now all that remains is to trick Donchad into accepting being my heir somehow, I’ll not be announcing anything until I can do that.” Culad poured another goblet of wine and offered it to Margaret, “You never did say why you’re here.” After a slight hesitation Margaret came closer and took the goblet, “One of your army officers is a traitor, but I am not certain which. I suspect it may be a man called Eogan, is that name known to you?”
“Aye, second in command of my infantry, right behind Donchad. Are you sure? He’s an old veteran of my father’s, I always believed him loyal.”
“The existence of the traitor is certain. I have ears in the enemy camps-”
“That was fast, and without my say so Why?”
“Intrigue and diplomacy are my specialities, I like to know what is going on. Before you swear and ask why no one told you I’ll say again you never asked.”
“Why would I ask?” Margaret frowned, irritated, “There is a reason I was the most sought after catches of king William’s court – I am rather famous for my skills, you were one of many offers.”
“Well Donchad did all the arranging and searching, he never mentioned anything.” Culad conveniently forgot that Donchad had told him his wife would make a good spymaster. Margaret smiled wryly, “Chased by half of Western Europe, fat old men and a bare handful of younger ones, for my skills and I end up with the one man who not only didn’t care, but didn’t even know I suppose there is some poetic justice in that”
“Er, I’ll count this as an unexpected bonus then. If you’re right about Eogan I’d best keep my eye on him.”
“You do that. If I find anything else I will let you know.” Margaret stood up to leave. “Wait a minute.” Culad sat up straight, “Why are you telling me of this?”
“Better you than some fat old man with an eye to his rights.” This time Culad let her go when she tried to leave.







Axeknight the only critic job I can advertise now is 'froggy critic', that being a critic who follows me around, criticing http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif That is a job you can apply for without me advertising, which saves me money - these org adverts are expensive

Thank you both for your comments on the fight. I thought it started too abruptly, seemed too short considering this is over 10 minutes of fighting, had a rather lame ending, and just didn't quite work. I'm still not ecstatic about how it reads, but if people are saying that it was ok then I do have some hope of writing the later battles...it appears shorter is slightly better.

[The Wizard]

Froggy, I saw in the LibrAARy in the CK official forums that there was an AAR also called 'Blood Red Hand of Ulster'. Yet it isn't written like yours...

Also, could you post some screenshots of how your game looks? Thanks



~Wiz http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wave.gif

[frogbeastegg]

There are two AARs with blood red hand in the title, mine (http://www.europa-universalis.com/forum/showthread.php?t=141285) which is identical in title ect to this topic, and another one which is entirely different, The O'Neill Chronicles: The (Blood-) Red Hand of Ulster (http://www.europa-universalis.com/forum/showthread.php?t=140484). That second story has Aed has the hero.

By pictures do you mean portraits, character screens, maps etc? I'll send a few in to the story hosting, and if Monk thinks it is appropriate to use the space for story illustrations you should see something soon...ish.

[Axeknight]

Follow you around, eh? *hides night vision goggles* Why would I want to do that? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-stunned.gif

Personally, I reckon old Donch ain't gonna be duke. Methinks Culad will have an heir, eventually http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif

[frogbeastegg]

:draws curtain over the window so no one can see in:

I wish I had been so sure of Culad's heir - it makes you feel so perverted when you find yourself sitting around anxiously monitoring the sex lives of two characters, tearing your hair out because it has been 3 months and still no pregnancy announcement I mean come on everyone else manages it quickly enough, what's the hold up? She's 21, good health etc so there should be no problems, hell she even looks good for a CK character Culad is getting old (remember he is over a decade older in the game), has the lust trait but no children, so maybe the problem is him? Probably not, but you never know...

Then you find yourself thinking maybe there is something you can do to encourage things. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-confused.gif In the end I just came to the conclusion that they must really hate each other, and that was responsible for the lack of that urgently needed male heir. Things get worse when you find your hated rival and rogue vassal has outdone you, and you find yourself wondering if you can arrange for Margaret to have an accident with a lover or something, and then scribble Culad's name on the birth certificate At that point you start contumplating the corrupting influence of games. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wacko.gif

It is really worrying, because if Culad dies childless I have no heir with my name, and so the game ends...

I have uploaded pictures of Culad, Donchad and Margaret, as well as a map showing where everything is and who owns what. Are there any other pictures people want?

[The Wizard]

Sounds good to me.



~Wiz

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ April 27 2004,19:52)]Then you find yourself thinking maybe there is something you can do to encourage things. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-confused.gif
Right. So I'm dressing up as a sailor, and you're...

[frogbeastegg]

Aed O’Neill stood near the front of Sigtryg’s court, wondering how much longer it would take before the count got on with whatever he had called this gathering for. Aed hoped it would be the announcement that they were finally going to take the war to Culad, since he had been forced to flee his own lands and take refuge with Sigtryg nearly two weeks ago he had been itching to get back and take revenge. As a staged hush fell over the court Sigtryg began his speech, “You’ll all be knowing that nearly two months ago I married Brigida, well today I’m announcing the impending birth of my son and heir. That’d be far more than Culad’s managed with his fancy foreign blood, and more than he’ll ever manage. Go spread the news.” Sigtryg beckoned Aed over to him, and they retreated to Sigtryg’s private rooms. Aed was able to hold his tongue no longer, “Why do you fill your court with such spineless nodding fools? They’ll give naught but bad advice”
“Oh I know that” Sigtryg sat himself down beside the fireplace, and gestured for Aed to do likewise. “My court is the biggest collection of worthless fools in the province, all of them noble, and all of them worthless – you noted that none dared tell me Margaret was a far better catch than Brigida, who was never more than a poor second best? None of those mentioned Culad’s victories in our little war? Nor said my child may not be a son, or even live to be born? Not a soul said Culad might yet have children – they all nod and giggle along to my stupid remarks, but it is the ones who don’t and the ones who speak out that I’m really having a court for. Wheat from the chaff, Aed, wheat from the chaff.” Realisation and understanding dawned on Aed, “So, the man who’ll defy popular opinion and his lord to give good advice against his own say so…aye, that’s the one you’re after, and this is a grand way to find them out.” Aed changed the subject to one dearer to his own heart, “Now when’ll we be going back to finish Culad?”
“Patience, patience – without patience we’ll be in a poor position, and I’ll not allow that.”
“Patience Easy for you, doubtless, but my lands, my fortifications, my crops all being burned I’ve not lost the province, but too many of my forts have been burned down for me to continue hiding while waiting for you and your plan”
“Calm down man, we’ll sort matters soon enough and you will be well compensated for your losses.”
“Then we’re to the battlefield then? At least”
“Nay, not yet – another few weeks then we’ll move.”
“Weeks” protested Aed, “Culad has taken all my little forts, he’ll now be moving in on my larger and better forts Give him another month and he’ll be besieging my capital – I’ll have naught left”
“That my friend, “ explained Sigtryg patiently, “Is why we only give him a few weeks more. We will take him to battle at the end of the month, by the beginning of April you’ll be safely restored to your home and we’ll be the ones on the attack.”
“You’re playing a finely balanced game here and it’s my holdings as stake”
“Aed, we agreed before that this was the only way, Culad has more men than us, well trained men, even though we can out do him in the peasant stakes we have fewer good soldiers and it’s the steady hearts that will win the battle. In a few more weeks he’ll have lost a handful more men, got a touch more over-confidant, become slightly more reckless, been drawn deeper into land we know better than he. In a few more weeks we can make our play with a fairer hand, and I’ll not be doing otherwise. You’ll be well seen to when I get my dukedom, and that’ll make all even.”
“You’d better Sigtryg, for I’m not happy with this damage Culad’s wreaking”

With a loud clatter the catapult launched its missile into the air, Culad watched it fly until, with a loud splinting crash, it hit one portion of the hill fort’s wooden ramparts. The catapult crew immediately hurried about, winching the arm back down, fasting it securely into place and reloading it with another stone ball. It was now mid March, and Culad had been watching such scenes for over a month now. He was, truth be told, beginning to get bored, but he was sure that boredom wouldn’t last much longer. He turned to his generals, who were also watching the progress of the siege, “Well? You think the breach’ll be large enough soon?” he demanded of Eogan, “Will you infantry be able to do their work?” Eogan nodded curtly, “Aye, mayhap tomorrow afternoon, if not then it’ll be morning the day after.”
“Excellent, be ready to go in as soon as possible.”
“Speaking of as soon as possible…” Donchad didn’t even need to finish his sentence before Culad groaned, “No I’m not going off on a trip home”
“You’re still in need of an heir, for I’ll not be it”
“Donchad, if I’m naming you heir then I’m naming you heir, and you’ll be shutting up and smiling politely while saying thank you”
“And I’m saying if you name me heir then I’m going over to join Sigtryg” The two cousins glared at each other while the other officers looked on uneasily. “Go home Culad.” insisted Donchad, intent on his goal, “Give it a few more years, if you’ve still no son then I’ll be stepping in if you wish – but only in a few years, not now. We’re not going to be wasting our efforts arranging that marriage, and I’ll not stand by while you turn yourself into the laughing stock of Christendom.”
“Fine” snapped Culad, “But I’ll be going alone, for I’ll not be taking men from this battle.”
“Culad-”
“I’ll go alone or not at all, and that’s final” on that note Culad stormed off. The officers began to mutter amongst themselves, Donchad excused himself and left. Checking he was not being followed he met up with Culad near the blacksmith’s area of the camp. “Well?” demanded Culad as quietly as possible, “Did they fall for it?”
“Aye, I’d say we’ll be knowing soon enough if Eogan’s a turncoat or not.”
“Right, then all’s as arranged. I’ll leave tomorrow, alone. Take care of my siege for me.”
“Take care of yourself – we can’t afford to lose you, and I’m not over enthusiastic on this plan.”
“Aye, nor am I, but it seems the only way, for we’ve given our traitor a way to end this all in one go, and with great gain to himself. Let’s just be hoping Margaret really does prefer me alive to dead, or I’m a corpse inside of a day from now.”

[frogbeastegg]

Sweating profusely under the heavy layers of his armour Culad rode homewards, painfully alert and watching for the slightest sign of the man he knew must be following him. He knew Eogan must strike soon or not at all, they had been careful to choose a hill fort to besiege that was within a day’s travel from castle Uliad so Culad could make the trip home in just the one day. Culad made an effort to look relaxed, as if he wasn’t wearing twice as much armour as usual and waiting for someone to kill him, the absurdity of the situation struck him, and with a grin he reached for the canteen hanging from his saddlebow. Without warning something impacted with his left shoulder, flinging him forwards and making his whole left upper body go numb. Thinking quickly Culad wrapped his right fist in his horse’s mane and stayed slumped over the animal’s neck. The horse was startled, and broke into a run, fortunately still headed homewards. From his slumped position Culad sneaked a glance behind him and saw Eogan riding after him on a fast horse, gaining rapidly. Culad let fly a litany of curses and wondering if he should sit up and draw his sword now, or wait a little more and see if the promised help arrived in time. He could feel something running down his back, he hoped it was just sweat but he had the ominous feeling it was blood, and if so things weren’t looking good if he had to fight. Eogan was closer now, too close for comfort. Culad sat up, his whole left side protesting loudly, and drew his sword, steering his horse into a turn so he could charge back at Eogan. Halfway through his turn Culad saw Eogan’s horse flounder and fall, and two men wearing a motley assortment of greens ran out of the tree line towards them, one man flinging away a short bow as he went. His help had finally arrived. Culad slowed his horse, coming to a halt near Eogan, who was trapped under his dying horse. “Why?” demanded Culad, “Why? You were my father’s man”
“You’re unfit to rule, and Ulster’s greatly harmed because of it.” Eogan spat on the ground “Look at you – less than three years as duke and your realm’s split asunder, warring on itself”
“What’ll we do with him, Lordship?” asked one of the two men. Eogan laughed, “Kill me – that’s what you’ll be doing with me I’d be mighty grateful if you’d fish me out from under this horse first though.” The two men looked to Culad for orders, “Fish him out, we’ll take him back with us for trial.” The two men set to work, and Eogan kept talking, “You’re a vengeful man then Culad.”
“No, not vengeful, but not particularly forgiving either.”
“Ah, well you’ll be finding a mite of a problem in your grand plan then, Culad.” Eogan screamed as he was dragged out from under the now dead horse, the reason was obvious – his leg was broken in several places. He spoke through clenched teeth, doing his best to be persuasive, “So you see Culad, I’m not going anywhere, not unless you’re willing to lend me your horse and I’m thinking you’ll be needing that yourself.” feebly Eogan pointed at Culad’s thigh where a red stain was slowly spreading on his trousers, a similar stain was growing on his left sleeve. “I’m thinking that crossbow bolt did some harm, even if you’re still alive.” Culad turned to his rescuers, “Did you bring horses?”
“Nay Lordship, they’d only be making us more obvious. We’re able to keep pace on foot hereabouts.”
“As much as I’d like to keep chatting to you Culad, keep chatting ‘til you bleed to death, I’m hardly having a grand time here and I’d be grateful if you’d get a shift on” Culad hesitated for a moment, before drawing his dagger and tossing it down where Eogan could reach it, “For my father’s sake.” Culad turned again to the two men, “I’m for home before I fall off my horse, wait until he’s done and bring his body back for burial.” Culad kicked his horse and rode off at a walk, trying not to jog his wounds. After a while he turned and looked back, and saw Eogan thrust the dagger into his throat. Feeling dizzy Culad slumped forward onto his horse’s neck again.

Culad’s homecoming caused quite a stir, on seeing their lord bought home slung across a horse with a crossbow bolt sticking out of his back and accompanied by two men, one of whom was carrying the dead deputy commander of Uliad’s infantry people began to gossip, and word began to spread that the duke was dying and all was lost. Culad was rushed up to his room, where the castles surgeon went to work. Once his armour was removed it became obvious the crossbow bolt had done little real harm, only tearing a deep gash under his shoulder blade. The wound had bled profusely because the bolt had not stayed in to block the hole, but had instead been pulled loose by the armour at some point. When the surgeon had finished dressing the wound he told Culad to stay in bed and not move or else, and then left, with orders from Culad to find Margaret and send her in his direction, preferably accompanied by a large pitcher of strong mead. When Margaret arrived she had a pitcher of small beer instead, “You will stop drinking so much, you’re in danger of getting a reputation for being indulgent and you can’t afford that.”
“Thanks kindly for the enquiries after my health.”
“You’re not going to die, and that’s all I care about.” Margaret placed the jug on a chest just out of Culad’s reach, and seated herself on the foot of the bed. Culad sulked, “You really have a talent for making someone feel loved”
“Likewise Culad, likewise.”
“Aye well since you’re not going to ask I’ll just tell you anyway – my entire left side’s one giant bruise, I lost a fair bit of blood, and I’m going to be stuck here for a few days until this shoulder heals up enough to travel without the cut being reopened.” Margaret shrugged her shoulders, “So?”
“So next time will you be coming up with a plan that doesn’t make such a mess out of me? Culad struggled to reach the jug, gave up, and tried to look pitiful, “You could at least pour me a drink.” Margaret rolled her eyes, got up and poured Culad a drink; “You want me to drink it for you? Or can you manage that yourself?” Culad took the cup; somehow he got the feeling he would get his drink tipped over him if he didn’t, “That I can manage, I just thought you’d like to make yourself useful.”
“Useful? I have turned you into a hero, considerably boosting your prestige, and ended a small panic about the end of the world being scheduled for tomorrow.”
“And there was me thinking you’d only been sat about enjoying my agony.”
“Well what do you expect when you fight off a small enemy raiding party with just Eogan for company?”
“They’ll go looking for the bodies.”
“And they will find them, I have arranged a few to be delivered to the site of your little skirmish. Congratulations – you killed 4 men single-handedly, a pity then that Eogan fell in battle at your side.”
“And despite this I don’t get so much as a jot of sympathy from my dear wife.”
“I don’t do sympathy.”
“I’d noticed.” remarked Culad dryly, before remembering something, “I thought you’re supposed to be all diplomatic?”
“I was being diplomatic, if I wasn’t I would have said your whining reminds me of a kicked dog.”
“You know all this has made me think I’d better do something about an heir-” Margaret immediately leapt to her feet and headed quickly towards the door, Culad protested, “No, not like that I meant Donchad Damn it I haven’t lost all sense of taste” Margaret halted halfway across the room, “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
“You hardly gave me chance I gave you my word, remember?”
“Call me suspicious if you wish, but I don’t really trust that.”
“Lovely, positively lovely” Culad frowned, “By the way I’m making you my spymaster.”
“It’s about time too. Oh, and you can’t make Donchad your heir.”
“Why not?”
“Because he has no land and no title, and therefore can’t be elected. Go conquer your rebels, husband, and then he can be your heir with their lands.”
“The day I need your advice in military matters is a dark day indeed”
“Charming.” Margaret left, and Culad resumed staring at the ceiling of his room, wondering if he could manage to leave tomorrow, and if not how to avoid seeing his wife again.




Note: small beer, for those who don't know, is a very weak type of beer that most people used to drink instead of water. It is about as alcoholic as tap water, and you'd have to drink gallons of it to get drunk.

[frogbeastegg]

Picture time

http://www.totalwar.org/patrons/story/frogbeastegg%20IrelandMap.jpg
This is Ireland in 1066. Right now I own Uliad and nothing else, but I do have claims on my rebeling vassals in Tir Eoghain and Tir Connail. The squarer shaped shields represent dukal seats of power, and the more stereotypical medieval shield shape represents a count. All these counts, with exception to my two, are vassals of the various other dukes.

Now people, you only get to see the portraits and not the other information because that would spoil everything

http://www.totalwar.org/patrons/story/frogbeasteggCulad.jpg
This um...vaguely ok looking chap is Culad, no he looks nothing like the good looking twerp in the story, but that is because everyone in CK is ugly - Culad is actually outstandingly good looking in comparison to many in his world.

http://www.totalwar.org/patrons/story/frogbeasteggDonchad.jpg
Donchad, aside from his crazy hair and strange facial expression, is vaguely ok looking for a CK character. He reminds me of an evil clown...

http://www.totalwar.org/patrons/story/frogbeasteggMargaret.jpg
Margaret, one of the better looking women I have seen in CK. At least she doesn't have grey hair at the ripe old age of 21

Anyone or anything else you want? It's not worth posing pictures of my realm yet since I only have the one province.

[Monk]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ April 27 2004,10:43)]By pictures do you mean portraits, character screens, maps etc? I'll send a few in to the story hosting, and if Monk thinks it is appropriate to use the space for story illustrations you should see something soon...ish.
Of course, I find that it is most appropriate. It is called the story space afterall. If people want to upload a few pics/portraits/or whatever to help them tell their tale, then i have no problem with that. Although reading the rules people might asume that such a thing isn't permited, though to tell the truth i really don't mind if they use the space for that.

I like the story you tell here lady frog, but i am far from a good critic. All i can ever manage is a nice job or very good... eh, maybe one day i can think of a comment that is longer than two words. Until then, these will have to do http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-help.gif

Now i should find my way back to my own work, a world of mispellings and plot holes http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-jester.gif

Good day http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/ht_bow.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Of course the rules are in a post I did which you can't alter. If you want anything changing drop me a PM and I will edit my old post.

Sometimes a simple nice job is all you need to hear, thank you Monk. I share your problem with thinking up comments, it must be a requirement of the AM for Mead Hall job http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif

[frogbeastegg]

It was, Aed decided, a glorious morning. While it was still only early in the day the weather was good and promised to remain so for the rest of the day. The weather was the perfect compliment to the day’s activities – pitched battle. It was the 26th of March, and he had finally bought Culad to battle. Now, God willing, he would inflict a devastating defeat on his former lord…with a little help from Sigtryg. Aed was feeling quite confidant, for although he only had just over 200 good soldiers left to fight his peasant recruits numbered more than 400, and that was more than enough to play his part in the plan. Aed surveyed his lines, he had drawn up on a slight slope with his best men in the centre of the shield wall, and the peasant rabble placed on the flanks. Currently his men were sat down with their helmets off and spears and shields set aside, since there was no danger of fighting just yet. The enemy line rippled, after squinting for as few seconds Aed saw that Culad was sending his archers forward to begin the archery duel, “Archers forward” he ordered, and his own lines rippled as the lightly armed men pushed their way to the front and took up position. Aed bellowed his second order, “Shoot when you have good targets – no shooting at extreme range Conserve arrows for when they’ll be doing the most damage”. He could hear the order being repeated and passed along the army. It was time to put his armour on.

Culad was in full armour, but with his helmet off and his shield left slung over his saddle by its straps. He looked about his small council, “Donchad, you take command of the infantry. You’re to move the spearwall into position and charge the foe. Enna, you’ll be commanding the skirmishing as we advance and throughout the actual battle. I don’t need to tell you more than that. Tomas, you’ll be doing what Donchad orders, but if he falls you’re the second in command for the infantry – make sure you stick to our battle plan. Pilib, I’m assigning you control over our new unit of light cavalry, just as we talked of. Remember, everybody the plan is simple enough. We’ll skirmish as much as possible, then advance the infantry in good order to contact. Meanwhile my heavy cavalry, accompanied by our new light cavalry, will charge the enemies left flank, and try to roll it up. If we can do that we’ll be sweeping along the enemy line, and this battles as good as won. Everyone certain of their orders?” The officers all indicated they were, “Right then, to your posts. God protect you all.”

It was nearly an hour since Aed had sent his archers forward, and in that time they had used their slight height advantage to win a slight edge over Culad’s own bowmen. Aed was just about to order his archers to use their hard won advantage and move forward to target Culad’s infantry when a lookout called, “Lordship The enemy are advancing”. Aed lost no time, “Form spearwall Not a single man to break formation – hold your ground regardless of cost”. As the order was passed along the idle infantrymen got to their feet, picked up their shields and spears and took up formation. Aed put his helmet on and laced the chinstraps in place securely, “Order the archers to fall back and support the spearwall.”

From his position on the right flank Culad watched his army advance, in a din of men clattering their weapons on their shields, and shouting war cries at their enemy. Skirmishers ran in front of the main formation, peppering the enemy ranks with javelins, slingshot bullets, and arrows. About 100 yards short of the enemy the formation halted for a space, redressing its ranks, before advancing more rapidly, finally breaking into a charge, yelling a unified war cry as they went – “Duke Culad”. Culad was dumbfounded; Donchad must have arranged that without telling him. The two spearwalls clashed, and from a distance it looked as though the two lines had merged into one. Culad knew this would not be the case, as the very instant the shield wall lost its formation the army crumbled away, defeated. Culad checked his helm was on securely, settled his kite shield onto his arm and raised his lance from the resting position, “Form up.” The standard bearer unfurled Culad’s personal banner – a red hand on a bright yellow background – and moved up close on Culad’s right. The 18 remaining heavy cavalrymen formed up in two ranks, so close to each other that the men were brushing knees. Immediately behind the heavy cavalry the 34 new light cavalrymen formed up into three ranks, but in a slightly looser arrangement. The idea was for the heavy cavalry charge to punch a hole in the enemy line, and for the light cavalry to exploit it. Culad had come up with the plan himself, he would have preferred more heavy cavalry to perform a proper charge, but even this small group of light cavalry was stretching his resources to near breaking point. At Culad’s second order the group of cavalry started to walk forwards, maintaining their formation with practised ease. Culad aimed towards the very end of Aed’s left flank, the most vulnerable part of his enemy’s army. As the distance closed Culad could make out details of the men forming the shield wall – simple peasants ill equipped just as his scouts had reported. As the cavalry reached medium distance from their target the heavy cavalrymen couched their lances, tucking the butt of the lance firmly under their arms and aiming the points down and slightly to the left, the light cavalry drew their swords. Culad was gratified to see panic start to spread through the peasants at this unmistakable signal of a cavalry charge, the peasants started to loose cohesion and the men at the front were trying to edge backwards, to put some other body between themselves and the oncoming lance points. The few experienced men tried to force the peasants back into position, knowing their only chance at surviving this charge was to keep in good order. Culad ordered the unit to begin the trot, advancing faster but not fast enough to tire the horses. The peasant’s officers were losing the battle to make their men stand and fight, struggling to make themselves heard over the growing thunder of hooves and jangle of armour. Culad was now close enough to see the faces of his foe clearly; it was time to charge properly. He gave the order, and dug his spurs into the flanks of his horse; the stallion immediately sprang forward into full gallop, followed by the rest of the unit still in tight formation. It took just seconds to cover the remaining ground, Culad’s lance slammed into the shield of the man unfortunate enough to be in front of him. The force of impact knocked the man off his feet, under the flying hooves of the horses, and sent Culad reeling back in his saddle as he let go of his now shattered lance. Swiftly he drew his sword and started hacking and slashing at any targets that presented themselves as his horse slowly lost room to keep going forwards. The scared peasants soon lost all will to stand and started to run for their lives. Culad let them go, there was no time to waste pursuing routing peasants while the main battle still raged. He turned to find his standard bearer still at his right, and rapidly gave his new orders, “Regroup the units, and form up for a new…” Culad trailed off, for there behind his army was a second, a long way off in the distance but closing rapidly to encircle his entire force. Sigtryg had arrived.



From this point on the org copy of this story will be ahead of the Paradox verison, asince it has been suggested I am posting new parts too quickly. Since people here seem to be able to read as fast as I post I won't atificially slow this version down. Paradox get one chapter a day, theorg will get whatever I have writen and want to post.

As ever I'm not that happy with this battle, once they get fighting it isn't so bad but the parts without brains spattering on armour are very dry, repetitive and dull.

[frogbeastegg]

In the middle of Culad’s spearwall Donchad was fighting for his life, the press of men was so great that some of the dead were still on their feet, unable to fall to the ground. An axe splintered the top of his shield, blinding him with splinters and knocking him backwards into the men behind him. Blindly Donchad lunged his sword forward, and was rewarded with a grunt as he hit someone. Blinking Donchad shook his head to clear his vision and saw his attacker crumpling to the ground, trying to hold his stomach in place with one hand. Donchad stepped forward, batting a spear point out of the way with his tattered shield and thrusting his sword tip at a pair of eyes visible over a shield rim. The target managed to ward off his attack, ducking behind his shield, only to fall at the hands of Donchad’s neighbour. Where was Culad and his damn cavalry?

“There is only one chance left for victory, or even survival.” thought Culad, ”And that’s to behead this army and rout it, and hope my spearwall has enough time left to turn about and make a stand.” “Form up the cavalry, we’re going after Aed and his personal guard.” The standard bearer saluted and shouted the order, and the cavalry quickly began to regroup. Culad set off as soon as the formation was slightly recognisable, leaving it to his men to neaten the ranks as they went. This time the cavalry didn’t walk to engage, they moved at a rapid trot, conscious of the lack of time. Moving parallel to the back of Aed’s army Culad could see that his own left flank was forcing Aed’s right back. That, combined with the routed right flank, put Aed’s centre in a precarious position. After what felt like an eternity Culad’s cavalry were in position behind Aed’s centre and began to charge. Somehow, even above the dim of the melee, someone heard the pounding hooves of the horses and shouted an alert and the men at the rear of Aed’s spearwall started to turn and present their spears onto a hedge of points. Unfortunately for them they were too slow, and Culad’s cavalry hit them half way through the manoeuvre. The charge was less effective this time, as no one had a lance and the cavalry were up against proper soldiers now, but all the same the enemy began to crumple. Under pressure from two sides Aed’s men slowly began at look for ways to flee. Culad kept hacking away at any targets that presented themselves, encouraging the rout and slowly working his way towards his own lines. As he fought Culad searched frantically for Donchad’s personal banner, finally he spotted it and changed course to it. As soon as he was in shouting range he started calling for his cousin, “Donchad? Donchad, where in the seven hells are you?” A battered man in armour waved his badly mangled shield to attract Culad’s attention, “It’s not like you to be so eager to find me when victory’s assured cousin, you must be anxious to get on with the drinking”
“Damn it you fool there’s another army behind us Get the men turned round and formed up again”
The distance was too great for Culad to see the horrified shock on Donchad’s face, or to hear the quick order he gave to turn the army about. All Culad heard was the delayed reply, “What if Aed’s lot regroup? They’ll be right in our rear”
“I’ll be seeing to them with my cavalry, I’ll be back in support if I can.” Culad turned his horse and joined his men in harrying the routing army, chasing and cutting down any man within reach to make sure they didn’t gather enough heart to return to the battle.

Donchad paused for a moment to catch his breath, throwing away his next to useless shield and casting about for a battle-axe he could take from a fallen man. He’d ordered his men to about face, so the exhausted front line would be bringing up the new rear while the still fresh men at the back would head up this fight. The heavy infantry, and his own guard, would have to fight again in the front to keep morale high. It was on days like this Donchad wished he had become a priest.




Yes it's short, but it's a battle and hard to write. To be continued in part 3...

Also patch 1.2 for CK is out, and it has a 50/50 chance of ruining your save game. Thankfully even if my save doesn't work I have enough material to provide a good ending to this, I played until Culad's death whenever and however that happened.

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 01 2004,22:47)]It was on days like this Donchad wished he had become a priest.
Spare a thought for the poor guy - he has to deal with Culad's 'heir problem' afterwards

GAH Cannot... Escape... Must... Comment... On every... Episode... http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-stunned.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Sigtryg’s army was advancing at the double, racing to reach Culad’s force before it could complete its turn and draw up into good formation. It was a test of training, turning an army was no easy task, but neither was advancing at a jog without your army breaking up and wearing your men out. Sigtryg was leading by example, jogging along in full armour, his mail hauberk slapping against his legs as he ran just fast enough to stay a pace ahead of everybody else. This was the make or break moment of his plan, if he could break Culad’s army now there would be nothing left to protect Uliad from being besieged, and even without Aed to occupy one half of Ulaid’s levy Sigtryg was confidant his superior leadership and fresher troops could swing the balance in his favour.

All around Donchad was chaos, officers bellowing at their men to get in place, wounded being dragged out of the way, and new weapons being distributed as best as possible from the reserves. From his position in the centre of the new front he could see Sigtryg, closing too fast for Donchad’s liking. Looking sideways at his army Donchad hazarded that they would be in formation just in time to meet Sigtryg, but the formation would be ragged and the men too tired to fight for long. It was a perilous position, and the battle could swing either way. If Culad’s cavalry made it back soon then it’d be a victory, if Aed’s army made it back then it’d be a defeat, and Donchad wasn’t happy with waiting to see what hit him in the back. He needed to buy a bit of time, just enough time for his men to rest and form up, and he needed to disable Sigtryg and his famous cunning. Further along the line Donchad could hear someone reciting the ballad of Finn MacCool’s duel with Aillen of the Flaming Breath to pass the time, and that gave him an idea…

Sigtryg held up his hand and called a halt, gratefully his army slowed to a stop, the less fit men gasping for breath to the scorn of their better-conditioned comrades. So it was too late to take advantage of the real chaos, but no matter, Sigtryg knew he still had the slight advantage here, and it wouldn’t take too much to exploit that. He was surprised when a lone man stepped out of the enemy lines and hailed him, “Sigtryg A word if you’re not minding?” Sigtryg smiled inwardly, delay tactics from a frightened enemy. He answered the hail, “If you want then, Donchad of Uliad, but make it quick for we’ve not got all day to kill you.”
“I was thinking, it’s been a grand day and it’ll be a legend sure enough, but how if we were to make it more legendary? Wouldn’t you like to tell your grandchildren of how you won the greatest victory since ancient times?”
“What are you on about man? All I need is Culad’s head and I’ll have my legend.”
“Let’s be having a duel, you and I. Not to the death, just to first blood. A bit of embellishment to be passing on to the next generations, I’d rather be going out a blaze of glory, and you’d be all the more grand and heroic like.” Sigtryg smiled cynically, so that was the plan, and not such a good one. “I’m thinking I’ll not be doing that, Donchad of Uliad. I’ve got you where I need you and a duel’d be a waste of time.”
“So it’s true what I hear then? Sigtryg the coward? A man who’ll scheme and plot away, making free with other’s lives but holding his own safe always.”
“Petty taunts, Donchad? A child could do better” Sigtryg was rather touchy about his reputation; he knew it was wisdom to avoid fights where he had little to gain and his most important resource – his life – to lose. Sadly not many saw the world in such sensible terms, and Sigtryg could hear a current of sullen muttering run through his army. Donchad heard it also, and intensified his efforts, “First blood is all, a mere scratch so you’ll not be needing to worry about dying.” The muttering in Sigtryg’s army intensified, and he could feel his hand being forced. Quickly Sigtryg weighed up his chances, Donchad was tired and maybe wounded already, he had no shield and was limited to axe and sword, while he may be famously valorous that meant he should be easy to manipulate in combat. With a spear Sigtryg could gain the advantage of range, and he was in better condition overall to face a fight. With a little strategy this should be possible, “Alright then Donchad of Uliad, you’ll have your duel. My rules – we’ll both use exactly what equipment we have now, no borrowing form others. We’ll be fighting immediately, so no wasting of time if that’s your big plan. First blood sounds like a game for children, so I’d be suggesting until one of us can fight no more.”
“Done, we’ll be fighting in the open space between our armies then, no trickery.” As he spoke Donchad left his place in his army and moved towards the no man’s land. After a slight pause to watch how his opponent moved, to check for obvious wounds, Sigtryg did likewise.

The two combatants started to circle, slowly, and looking for an opening. Sigtryg balanced his spear in an over arm grip, crouching behind his round shield for maximum protection, always working to keep Donchad just in range of his spear. Experimentally Donchad swung his axe in a downward arc towards Sigtryg, stepping forward to get in range. Swiftly Sigtryg leapt to one side, dodging rather than trying to block. Both men resumed their wary circling. Sigtryg let Donchad take the aggressive stance, skipping and dodging out of each and every attack, and seldom making a counter attack, and wearing the already tired man out. After a few minutes of this Donchad was weary enough to begin to make mistakes, and over balanced on a downward cut. Sigtryg dodged to one side, as he had been doing before, but this time he punched out with his shield, catching Donchad’s hands and knocking his battleaxe flying. Frantically Donchad back-pedalled, dodging away from Sigtryg’s spear as he struggled to draw his sword left handed, as the shield had broken his right forearm. Sigtryg pressed his advantage, aiming a never-ending flurry of stabs at the retreating, nearly defenceless figure. Sigtryg’s army started to cheer their leader on, certain of victory. Finally Donchad managed to draw his sword, and awkwardly started to parry the spear, trying to cut through the wooden staff below the iron head. Sigtryg jumped back, putting a few extra paces between himself and Donchad, before throwing his spear. Donchad ducked, the spear barely missed him, but before he could recover Sigtryg was on him – literally. Not bothering to draw his sword Sigtryg had instead taken advantage of his opponent’s distraction to drop his own shield, and leap on him and wrap both hands about Donchad’s left arm, wrestling to twist the sword out of his grip. The two men struggled, Donchad was the stronger but now he was only able to use one arm in the struggle, and his left arm was slowly being twisted backwards by Sigtryg’s two-handed grip. Suddenly Donchad’s arm gave way, and he twisted hid body to use Sigtryg’s momentum to throw him to the ground, Sigtryg immediately rolled to one side and regained his feet, but Donchad moved surprisingly quickly and picked up one of the discarded swords. All Sigtryg had left was his dagger, and that would be little help. Donchad hesitated for a second, before speaking, “Go, get a sword before I change my mind. I’ll not have it said I killed a defenceless man.” Sigtryg grabbed the other sword, warily watching Donchad for any trickery. Again the two men started circling each other. Donchad suddenly launched a blow aimed at Sigtryg’s head with all his strength, unable to dodge this time Sigtryg flung his own blade up to block and the two swords clashed. Sigtryg’s blade shattered, and Donchad’s sword continued until it hit Sigtryg’s helm with sufficient force to cleave through the metal. Sigtryg wavered and dropped to the ground, unconscious rather than dead, as the blade had barely nicked his scalp. Exhausted Donchad collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.

As Culad’s levy exploded into cheers and clapping a handful of men came out from Sigtryg’s force to collect their leader. Even above the din of Culad’s army Donchad heard the shout, “Cavalry Retreat”. Sigtryg’s demoralised and leaderless army began to withdraw. Culad’s cavalry had arrived.





Poor Sigtryg, he has fantastic stats and is a great general, but he has the coward trait. it's a cute little picture of a chicken. Donchad, on the other hand, has the valorous trait, and that is an ugly arm with a sword.

Axeknight I agree, you do have to pity poor Donchad, even more when you know parts of his future. Well that's the way the cookie crumbles, and only half his problems are my invention. Well I suppose he does get a lot of good too...

Since you are compelled to comment each time I think I had better make you an unofficial froggy critic, here you go :gives Axeknight a badge in the shape of a frog:

[frogbeastegg]

The evening of the battle Culad held a great victory celebration for his army in one of the hill forts they had captured less than two miles away from the battlefield. The officers and richest soldiers were crammed into the great hall, while the common soldiers crowded about great fire pits with assorted meats roasting on spits. Alcohol flowed freely, and Culad was trying not to think about how much all this was costing as he sat at the head of the high table in the great hall. A beautiful red haired woman smiled shyly at Culad, before turning and walking away, being careful to sway her hips. Culad stared after her, “Who’s that? She’s been placing herself in my eye for days now.” he asked. Donchad spoke up, “That would be Mor, daughter of one of your knights.”
“Oh. Too expensive then.” said Culad morosely. Donchad slapped him on the back; “Sounds to me like you’re losing your touch Culad”
“Well think it through a bit Donchad – I’d have to be giving her some kind of fancy gift, and her father wouldn’t be best pleased so I’d have to bribe him with lands or something, since I can’t be doing with revolting knights as well as rebelling vassals.”
“So you tell her your company’s a gift, since she’s practically throwing herself at you that’ll probably work. Then you just promote her father to one of the positions now left empty by a dead man. Simple, neat and tidy – you used to think all this up by yourself.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Blimey Now that’d be a real first” Donchad looked at his cousin, trying to keep a serious face, “That wife of yours didn’t do something drastic with a knife?”
“No Good grief – no I’m just not interested in being a title tonight, since she’s looking for the duke, and I do suspect it’s on orders from an ambitious parent with an eye to gathering a bribe or two. And anyway her hair’s too red.”
“Too red? Your wife has hair that is ‘too dark’ and this one is ’too red’ – what kind of colour are you looking for man? Pink? You never complained about red before, or black for that matter. I’m thinking we’ll be renaming you to Culad the Chaste before the year’s out.” Mor reappeared carrying a flagon of fine red wine, which she brought up to the high table, “Would your Lordship like another drink?” Culad put his goblet down on the table with a small thud, “Are you an angel?” he demanded. Mor smiled,“Your Lordship does me honour to compare me to such a celestial beauty.”
“No, I was meaning that you’re popping up each and every time I turn my head like some angel with a message that it can’t quite manage to deliver” Mor froze for a split second, before trying to save the situation, “Well…it’s kind of your Lordship to notice me at all.”
“Aye, perhaps, but seeing how I do doubt your angelic status very much I’d rather not be bumping into you each time I turn around.”
“Lordship…?”
“And you can be telling your father that I promote on worth, not on compensation payouts for a night or two with a precious daughter Now shoo” Blushing furiously Mor left, and went to talk to a man at the far end of one of the lower tables; it looked like they were arguing. Culad watched as the man pointed vigorously in his direction and shouted something, before pushing Mor back towards the high table. Culad sighed, “She’ll be back, and he’ll not be giving up on his plan then.”
“Well she might have been sent after someone different this time…I think I could find space for him in my infantry guard – I could use a new man to stand in the missile fire and absorb the arrows for me.”
“Donchad, you have the ethics of a Norman.”
“There’s no need to be so insulting, I was merely pointing out how I could use the situation to the advantage of all, no more. She and I get a bit of fun, dear daddy gets his new job, and you get some peace. Now speaking of peace…”
“I can tell what you’re going to say, and I was in fact thinking of going home tomorrow. I’ve got some business to take care of.”
“So you’ve finally worked that out, then?”
“Oh aye, I think I’ve got something to take care of that’s best not left for too long.” Of course Culad was thinking of something very different to the heir Donchad was meaning.

A couple of days later Culad arrived back in castle Uliad in the early evening. Within an hour of his arrival he was talking with his wife in their private rooms, trying to put his plan into action. Margaret was having difficulty believing her ears, “You want me to let it be known I will have any girl who is even rumoured to be your lover killed?” she asked incredulously. Culad looked uncomfortable, “Well not quite so, more any girl and her scheming relatives who sent her off after me in the first place, and not just the rumoured ones but also the ones I might be trying to keep secret but your many spies will be reporting about. Um, maybe if you could go so far as any girl who I kiss, look at in a remotely interested way, get looked at in a remotely interested way by, or am rumoured to have done anything of a even slightly carnal nature with…aye, if you could threaten to kill all those that’d be grand.” Margaret stared at Culad as if he had gone mad, “Why on earth would I do that? As long as you are at arms length from me I don’t care what you do in that regard.”
“Um, well you see…I do care – er, not that I’m saying anything daft and you and me No, not at all More that I’m sick of being chased by women, it’s boring and I can’t be standing the expense anyway. There’s no challenge in a line of people flinging themselves at you.”
“If I let it be known I will kill anyone who goes near you you’ll have a mite too much challenge finding someone suicidal enough”
“Well perhaps there’s one who’s caught my eye, and wouldn’t be put off by these death threats.”
“Then I would have to kill her – I can’t go about making threats and not keep them.”
“Somehow I think you’d not want to kill this one, although I might be interested to see you try.” Margaret eyed Culad suspiciously, “And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Culad presented a perfect picture of happy innocence; Margaret kept studying him, saying nothing. Culad continued from where he’d left off, hoping to divert her attention before he looked guilty, “Well, you see it’s well known that you’re the suspicious type, although I can’t imagine why people are getting that impression” Culad grinned at Margaret, who was still the very essence of suspicion, “And if you’d also be the jealous type that’d sort this little problem for me.”
“And what would I get in return? Being known as a suspicious, jealous, murderer of a wife isn’t the kind of accolade I look for in life.”
“Well…it’d be an off-putting reputation for any potential husbands you might end up being chased by in the future – generally even the desperate hunchbacked, lisping, club footed 60 year old men don’t want a wife like that for fear it might cramp their life a bit.”
“I suppose that could be advantageous in the event of you doing something inconvenient, like dying. Although I can’t say I like the idea – the only difference between those girls you asking me to murder and myself is that I at least got a church ceremony out of someone deciding it was a good idea to throw me at you.”
“Now just be thinking of how grateful you are for the results of that ceremony, and you’ll maybe be finding your opinion changes.”
“You’re right – killing them is a mercy The relatives, that is. I think the girls can disappear into convents.”
“Good enough for me, thanks. Those girls who chase me of their own accord can go to the convents too, but we’ll be leaving their families alive.”
“You know I’ve a funny feeling this idea will depopulate half of Ulster.” remarked Margaret, a hint of a smile on her lips. Culad laughed, “Now if only everyone else was as immune to my charm and good looks as you”
“Men.” said Margaret in that age old tone always used to lament the stupidity of half a species, “Now you can go bother the suicide case who has caught your eye, I have better things to do than stand here wasting my time with you.”
“As you wish.” Culad planted a quick kiss on Margaret’s forehead and shot out the door before she could say anything.

The next morning Culad held an audience in his great hall for any issues that people may have for their duke’s attention. “Lordship, Your Honour, um…Sire, it pleases me immensely to show you my great discovery.” A nervous peasant was stood before the dais, twiddling his cap in his hands nervously. Next to him was a box with a blanket thrown over it, which the peasant guarded jealously against all who came near it. Up on the dais Culad and Margaret exchanged a look. Culad gestured to the peasant to continue, and so he did. “Well I was told to be bringing it here to show Your Greatness, aye and you too Ladyship, begin’ your pardon of course…aye, well it’s my firm belief this discovery of mine’ll increase our income by a good margin, and put us ahead of all others in this area of expertise.” the peasant paused, wringing his cap between his hands, “Well, um, with your permission I’ll be showing you now then.” Culad nodded, and the peasant pulled the cloth off the box, revealing a cage with a chicken in it. The audience chamber went silent. Finally Margaret spoke, “You have invented the chicken?” The peasant beamed and nodded vigorously, “Aye, Ladyship, it’s the latest thing.”
“We already have chickens, in fact we’ve had them for hundreds of years” said Culad, trying not to spoil his dignity by laughing until he fell off his throne. The peasant looked insulted, “I’m knowing that Er, begin’ your Lordship’s pardon, of course and no insult intended It’s just that this chicken’s different to all the others, and that’s the big gold mine.” Margaret saw Culad had jammed the knuckle of his right index finger into his mouth, and was biting it in a frantic effort to maintain control. Hoping the peasant couldn’t see the same thing from where he was stood, Margaret filled the gap, “Well what’s so different about this…chicken?”
“It’s the eggs, Ladyship. You see they’re this lovely pastel colour of blue or green, and not egg coloured like normal eggs. Can be selling them for a great sum, for those fancy folks that want pretty coloured eggs.” A strange snorting noise came from Culad as he nearly lost his battle, and Margaret’s face was twitching slightly. Quickly, before it was too late she spoke, “Great work, Mr. Peasant. Go and do whatever needs to be done to use your…invention to the full. Now it’s getting late in the morning and my husband and I will retire now for a light lunch. The audiences will resume in an hour.”. Before anyone could comment Margaret and Culad swept out of the hall, and almost ran back to their own rooms. As soon as the door shut they both collapsed, laughing hysterically. “Sire I’ve invented the Chicken” mimicked Culad, Margaret wiped a tear from her eye, “And to think before I came here I thought Ireland was a backward land without basic technology Now we have the chicken nothing will stop us”
“Don’t be mocking our great people.” chided Culad, “We can do grand things with that chicken. I’m thinking of am army of them, to march on our foe and peck them to death and pelt them with pretty pastel coloured eggs.”
“That would make you Chief Chicken, of the great army of Chicken. Perhaps we could rename Uliad to Chicken Land?”
“And you’d be Lady Chicken, and the poets would never shut up about your outstanding beauty – not that they ever shut up about it now.”
“No poet who wants to get paid would ever repeat your verdict. Songs about famous ladies who are too tall, too dark and too miserable don’t go down terribly well.”
“Well perhaps the poets have more sense than the fool who said that.”
“Is that an apology, or a change of heart?”
“Both.”
“Culad, you have a suicide case to bother, not me.”
“Suicide case? Oh. Aye, I suppose I do.”
“Ah, from that am I to take it that she had more interest in life than you thought and turned you down?”
“I suppose…that would be right.”







Yes, this part was done very quickly. That is because I was writing this every time I got stuck on the battle, now there's a sick idea - writing vaguely romantic mush for light relief http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-inquisitive.gif

There are a few game related noted needed for this one. Firstly yes, you can invent the chicken. The animal husbandry researching events are unfortunately named, so you will invent the chicken, cow, goat, sheep and pig as the years roll by...makes you wonder where all these new animals came from. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-confused.gif

Secondly Mor is not a side effect of the pretty wench catches your eye event that happens frequently to characters with the lust trait - if it were Culad would find his life long interest in red heads and upset fathers still intact because that would give me a guaranteed bastard son who could act as heir in desperate circumstances. Funny that, all bastards are male and they always appear the instant you choose the give in to the passion response. Normal children appear after a 9 month pregnancy, bastards appear as soon as you meet the mother http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-stunned.gif

I would offer a cookie to whoever can figure out who Culad's 'suicide case' is, but that is way too easy Instead I will give a cookie to anyone who can explain, in full, this: “Men.” said Margaret in that age old tone always used to lament the stupidity of half a species. That should prove some slight challenge...

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 02 2004,17:55)]“Men.” said Margaret in that age old tone always used to lament the stupidity of half a species,
Now wait just a minute there... http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/angry.gif

I like the badge, though. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/frog.gif

http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

[frogbeastegg]

A few more pictures.

http://www.totalwar.org/patrons/story/frogbeasteggAed.jpg http://www.totalwar.org/patrons/story/frogbeasteggSigtryg.jpg http://www.totalwar.org/patrons/story/frogbeasteggNuala.jpg
Aed Sigtryg Nuala

This resembles a gallery of big noses and strange facial expressions Now maybe you begin to understand why Culad and Margaret are both classed as good looking, believe it or not there are many who are even worse than Aed out there...

Axeknight if you have never heard Men. said like that before then you are either exceptionally lucky, or have been living in a monastery. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif That would be the exact counterpart of the 'bunch of men exchanging a meaningful look and declaring Women.'. Of course the challenge is always to work out why that this said, men tend to be rather blind to what provokes the Men. comment, and probably likewise...although I suspect it has something to do with fussing about how you look.

So I suspect I will be eating that cookie myself http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-grin.gif

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 02 2004,19:42)]you are either exceptionally lucky, or have been living in a monastery. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif
No, just exceptionally charming http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/joker.gif

Hi there. Tell me, did it hurt when you fell from heaven? - works every time http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/flat.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Donchad looked back over his shoulder and saw his hunters gaining, frantically he kicked his horse, trying to make it run even faster than it already was. Somehow the horse managed a bit more speed, and practically flew along over the rough terrain towards the road.

Squinting his eyes against the fierce wind caused by his speed Donchad made out a lone figure on a horse up ahead on the road between castle Uliad and the border with Tir Eoghain. Praying devoutly that the figure was who he suspected Donchad aimed his horse on a collision course and kicked it in the flanks again.

A javelin whipped past Donchad’s head, he didn’t dare look back to see if the hunters had any more left to throw after him. The figure on the horse had noticed the chase, and had stopped to watch.

Donchad was moving so quickly he was barely able to drag his horse into a rearing halt beside Culad, “Damn it man, help me” gasped Donchad, breathless from his ride.

He barely had time to get his words out before the three men who were chasing him also skidded to a halt. The leader, a nearly bald man in his fifties, made a curt bow to Culad without dismounting, and turned to Donchad, “You’re lucky this time, but if I’m seeing you again you’ll be a spit roast” the man spat in Donchad’s direction and rode off with his two man escort before Culad or Donchad could speak.

Culad watched after them for a while, before looking at his cousin and shaking his head, “Words fail me, truly they do. What were you doing this time?”

Donchad had the grace to look sheepish, “Well I was going back to see about Nuala, wasn’t I? The battle’s over and the war’s as good as won – that’s all that old’un need worry about, even if the good as won bit’s a tiny embellishment. Turns out by come back later what he meant was go die in battle and save me the bother of telling you to go away for good. Of course Nuala and I were none to happy about that, so we met up a bit later-”

“I think maybe I can guess the rest. I think you’d best be having my nickname, for it truly suits you better than I these days.”

“Well I’m saying you’re as bad as the old man, for you’ve got the wrong idea totally” Donchad puffed up with indignation, “I had honourable intentions, it’s just that the old man’s not thinking right. He finds us stood there in the small forest near his house, all decent like and he starts raving about no one’s going to dishonour his daughter and live to tell the tale. He’d rather be having her married, well I pointed out I’d be happy to oblige there and he started raving about how he’d already given his final word. You know honestly I don’t understand the man, gets the wrong idea and when you offer to do as he wishes he starts trying to kill you”

“Aye, fathers are a strange bunch – either they’re sending their precious girl after you, or complaining of your interest. Anyhow you’re not saying your honourable intentions, for they’re not sounding so honourable from here.”

“I was thinking of a Frankish style surprise marriage, you know the one where you kidnap the bride and run off together, and by the time anyone finds you it’s too late to be doing anything other than welcoming your new son in law. If it works for fancy Norman heiresses and those with an interest in their fortunes that’s not approved of by the charming family, and for those unfortunates who love but are not able to talk their families around, well then it’d work for me and her.”

Culad massaged his temples with his right hand; “Donchad, the best way to be fixing those situations is simply to kill the daft fool who made off with your daughter, making her a widow who can be hurriedly married off before word spreads and her value drops too far. Now speaking of too far what in seven hells are you doing here in the first place? I bought you back with a broken arm for a spot of rest, not to be chasing up and down the county and getting into fights”

“This was only to be a day trip, and I wasn’t expecting anything too strenuous, I’d thought to drop by when anyone likely to kill me was out. I’d heard a word or two about an arrangement for Nuala to marry some young lordling in Scotland, and understandably I had to act. Turns out the rumour was false but how was I to know?”

“Donchad, we’re going back to the fighting now, and we’re never going to speak of this again, for I’ll die laughing if I think on this too much You’re doing even worse than me”





Stood on the highest part of his hill fort’s ramparts Aed surveyed the army laying siege to his walls. This was something had done at least twice a day for the full 39 days of the siege, and today was no different. Culad’s levy were still dug in outside, occasionally launching rocks at the walls with their handful of catapults, and blocking all escape from the fort.

Near the catapult battery Aed could make out a tall figure dressed in full armour with a yellow cloak emblazoned with a red hand, “I see Culad is back again.”

“Yes Lordship.” replied Éicnechán, the new captain of Aed’s army, replacing Connor who had died of dysentery several days ago. Both men ducked as a large rock sailed overhead, hitting one of the buildings behind them with a loud crash.

As he straightened up Aed asked a question he knew the answer to only too well, “How many men do we have left?”

“Not quite sixty, Lordship, and then most of them are sick or wounded.”

“How much food is left?”

“Enough for all eternity if we don’t eat, Lordship.”

“Any sign of lord Sigtryg today?”

“Nay Lordship, he’s not been seen since his last attempt to break the siege failed more than a week ago.”

Aed bowed his head, delaying the inevitable for a few moments longer, “Well then it seems I’ve no choice. Send a messenger to Culad, tell him…tell him I recognise his claim to the lands and title of Tir Eoghain, and I surrender those lands as he ordered, along with the contents of my treasury by way of recompense for the delay.”

“Surrender, lordship?” Éicnechán couldn’t hide the relief in his voice.

Aed smiled bitterly, “Oh yes, surrender, and let’s be hoping Culad isn’t in a vengeful mood. I’d rather not lose my head along with everything else.”





Culad was sprawled in a chair in his private tent, reading a letter from Margaret when Donchad came rushing in to tell him about Aed’s messenger. He looked at the parchment in Culad’s hands and grinned, “Letter from home?”

“It’s from Margaret.”

“About the heir?”

“Yes…in a way, it is about an heir.”

Donchad laughed and slapped his cousin on the back; “I knew you had it in you It’s about time too, made me think I was never going to be an uncle A body could die of suspense waiting about for you and your wife to start a family, and that’d be a crying shame since I’m only a young man with plans myself.”

Culad decided he had let Donchad dangle on the line for long enough, “It’s about Ayd, my steward, or should that be ex-steward? He’s gone and died, with rather bad timing too. Now Margaret and I need to find a replacement, an heir to his position if you will.”

Donchad slowly took all this in, his mirth dying, “You utter bastard You had me fooled” at the word ‘bastard’ Donchad looked thoughtful, “You’ve not picked up any bastards either recently, have you? Now they’d be valid as heirs too you know, so if Margaret-”

“Shut up Donchad, there’s news in this letter that’s for you, and I’ve this feeling it’ll cause trouble.”

Apprehensively Donchad took the letter Culad held out and read the bit Margaret had addressed to him. It reported that Nuala was being rushed into a marriage with another local knight because of a certain recently discovered pregnancy. The blood drained from Donchad’s face, “But this can’t be – it’s another false rumour.”

“That’s the truth down there, Margaret’s too good at her job to make a mistake like that. Now you have a problem,” Culad tried to find a delicate way to put this problem to his love struck friend, “That child, er, well the father…”

“Would be me.” replied Donchad certainly, “I think if I ever see her again she’s going to kill me.”

“So much for the honourable intentions, and with a broken arm too.” said Culad, half joking. Donchad just looked wretched, lost in thought.

Culad prodded him in the ribs to get his attention, “Now this is going to cause trouble, I’ve got an angry knight who’s about to become two angry knights, since I’m doubting her groom will be too happy when I help you snatch your intended away. He’ll be getting a fair sum to forget the child isn’t his, and no doubt they’ll be getting their friends all angried up to fight when the duke and his marshal steal poor innocent Nuala right at the altar. I’ve got a war going on here, and now I’m to risk rebellion back home.”

Hope flared in Donchad’s eyes, “You mean you’ll help?”

“The letter is already on it’s way back by express courier, Margaret will make sure Nuala suddenly vanishes before it’s too late. Of course the truth of what’s happened won’t stay quiet for long…I think I will have to splash some cash at the ‘victims’ of my interference to smooth things over, and I’m none too rich right now. Now that just leaves one issue left.”

Donchad looked anxious, no doubt wondering how he could repay his friend for this, Culad grinned, “I’m saying we should rename you to Donchad the Incautious, but Margaret suggests Donchad the Innumerate. I’m thinking we can use both names; Nuala the Innumerate and Donchad the Incautious should sound good when the priest marries you”

Donchad had the grace to turn red; “There’s a messenger to see you, from Aed. I’m thinking they’re surrendering.”

“Well then bring him in, if it’s peace you’ll be back home in time to be married by the end of the week.” Culad wasn’t going to let Donchad hear the last of this for months.








And that would be why you got a picture of Nuala in the last batch. For those wondering why Donchad and Nuala had a slight accident, well the day they got married I also got the 'expecting a child' announcement. The very same day, about mid afternoon. Somehow I think even with an incredible case of coincidental timing and a battery of scientific equipment half a day is a little too quick to know these things, not to mention they would have been kept busy with things like the obligatory feast during the day...

You will obviously have noticed the new layout, I got complaints over at paradox that this was hard to read and similar things have been said here about Eleanor. Since this story is a different format to Eleanor I can write it in Word in my usual, then space it out in a separate document. Since I am already doing that for the paradox forums I thought I'd let people here have a look and say which format they prefer. There is one tiny problem with this layout - I find it next to impossible to follow, unlike the books style I usually use. So speak up if you like this layout because I'll be going back to the old one if it appears I can.

Axeknight that line actually works? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-stunned.gif The world never ceases to amaze me.

If charm allows you to avoid the men comment I wonder what it is that allows me to avoid the women comment? Logic, maybe? Not taking half an hour to get ready to go to post a letter probably helps too.

Oh well, I may as well stick a quick explanation of Margaret's Men. line here, and eat the cookie myself. Culad has assumed she is immune to his charm and good looks, but she isn't. Culad has missed the difference between finding someone attractive, and liking them enough to sleep with them. Of course with his colourful background that oversight is hardly surprising, since as far as he is concerned the two are one and the same, but I would guess she is mildly annoyed by that oversight. Also she knows he would be whinging like mad if everyone had the same reaction to him as her. Not to mention she knows he is lying - he likes the attention. She is not entirely clueless as to his interest in her, she may not have noticed that she is the 'suicide case' but it is obvious Culad has revised his opinion with time, knowledge and doors slamming in his face. Then there is the way he keeps changing his mind all the time, first he hates her, now he doesn't, gah Also the mystery of this suicide case, he appears to be contradicting himself a little. Finally the absurdity of the situation he has created, unlike most wives she isn't too bothered by him chasing off after other women, since it keeps him out of her way.

Such a lot of meaning compacted into one little word with a right tone.

[Ludens]

Damnit, I have been away for a few weeks and the Frog breaks loose.
Well Froggy, I agree: it is an significant improvement over Eleanor and I hope you can keep it up. I especially liked the chicken-part and the bit about naming Donchad 'the Incautious'. But I think you give too little attention to the change in the relation between Culad and Margaret. That is for me the most interesting part.

Axeknight, are you trying to take over my position as unofficial Mead Hall critic? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Glad you made it, Ludens http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wave.gif

You know exploding frogs, always unpredictable, one minute they barely write a chapter a month and the next they write 28 pages of a new story in a week.

Culad and Margaret are tricky, I have a strict timetable to stick to - they have to be married by this day, he has to be leading his army by that day, until this day, she must be spymaster on this day, and so on. This timetable leaves me a lot to do in what I think isn't enough time, but I can't later the timing of these events by more than a few days, which is not enough. They didn't have to be on this particular path, they could have kept hating each other, or it could have been love at first sight, but I feel it needs to be this way for reasons I can't explain here and now.

So I have a path I have to follow as best I can, the main problem is that this pair don't helpfully supply all the mushy lines and events for me, unlike Eleanor and Fulk. This entire thing is my own work, and I am straining a muscle or two as it is writing their next scene together. I'm just not suited to writing all this romance stuff, but I do my best where needed.

The real reason that there is little about Culad and Margaret in there is because they don't have much time together. Culad is fighting his war and he has to lead, the only excuse he might have for staying at home is being a cripple - which he isn't. I suppose I could follow them about for the entirety of the few days each of his visits lasts, but I can't see anything particularly interesting happening. I include the 'highlights', the bits where thing happen. You will probably like the next few parts, since peace is in the air and he can go home for a while.

I will try to include a bit more of them together than I was originally going to, nothing drastic but a little scene here and there. That does fit quite nicely...

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 04 2004,18:48)]Axeknight that line actually works? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-stunned.gif The world never ceases to amaze me.
The hand mark on my cheek is almost permanent now http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

[frogbeastegg]

The next day saw all of Culad’s army turned out in their best to watch as Aed O’Neill formally surrendered to Culad. As Aed knelt and handed over the scrolls and seals of his title the 400 men left in Culad’s army sent up a great cheer. The war was half over.

At the same time, on the same day Sigtryg was safe was his castle planning his next move with the aid of his inner most council. It was a small gathering of just three people, as Sigtryg had not found many people reliable enough to grant positions to. “So you say Aed will have surrendered within the week?” Fionna nodded in confirmation. Sigtryg absentmindedly tapped his fingers on the great wooden table, “Well, that’s no more than I expected, since I’ve not been able to break the siege and his army was too badly crushed to fight again in any strength as a sally. So now Culad’ll have a new province to bring to order, troops to sort, supplies to increase…”
“We’re still in no position to fight him again.” Roolb stated this as simply and bluntly as a man saying the sky is blue. Sigtryg glared at his new marshal, seeing if he would back down. Roolb met his eyes and held his own, and Sigtryg was glad, “I chose rightly in you, for that’s the sad truth – we need peace as much as Culad. Time to reorganise, to try to bring that bishop of Mar to our side as he was originally supposed to, to try a different approach to removing Culad. When we next go to battle we won’t be walking home without raising a sword because of a single leader being knocked out in a fight arranged by his own men” Fionna filled the difficult silence that followed, “Lordship, I do doubt Culad will accept white peace. He is impatient to re-establish his power, at this moment he will think he has much to gain by rushing onwards.”
“So what do I offer him then? Gold?”
“Yes, he would want a substantial sum, say 100 gold but if we offer close enough he will be talked around by that cousin of his…Donchad is no fool in these matters. 85 gold will do.”
“Make that 82 gold, I have plans which I’ll not let Culad’s blood money cut into.”

Culad’s prediction was quite accurate, six days later he was a guest at Donchad’s wedding. Both bride and groom were dressed in their best, although Donchad could hardly be called a dashing groom with his broken arm and new black eye. After their initial…lively meeting the pair had settled into that obnoxious world of their own that most sweethearts find somewhere. As he sat in the guest of honour’s place at the feast in Donchad’s house Culad decided it was time to go – he was fed up of feeling like a crowd, some brunette kept smiling at him from the far side of the room, and Margaret had wandered off ages ago and not returned. Making his excuses, which Donchad and Nuala ignored, Culad slipped away from the high table and started searching the crowd for his wife. “Is your Lordship looking for something?” inquired a husky voice next to his ear. Heaving a mental sigh Culad turned and looked, sure enough it was the brunette. “I’m looking for my wife.” said Culad pointedly, the brunette giggled, “If you can’t see her than she can’t see you.”
“I was looking for her to find her, so if you don’t mind…” Culad tried to leave, but the brunette grabbed his arm, “You hardly live up to your legend”
“No, he doesn’t.” commented a dry voice from behind them, “And he isn’t going to.” Margaret prised the brunette’s hand off Culad’s arm and made a show of dragging him away. As soon as they were out of view she let him go, “You’re pathetic – I should have left you to fight your way out of that one on your own, it would have been entertaining to watch.”
“I’m glad you find my torments to be a good spectator sport, but I’m far gladder that you rescued me. Oh hell – she’s looking for me again” Culad grabbed Margaret’s hand and towed her towards the exit, looking back over his shoulder towards the brunette, who was doing a good impression of a circling hawk looking for prey – very specific prey with a nice shiny ducal title and newly enriched coffers. As they tumbled out into the evening air Culad breathed a sigh of relief, “And there’s another for your convent programme, I’m thinking she’d make a good nun in one of those remote, cold, wind blown locations.”
“At this rate I will have to found a few new nunneries.” Culad realised he was still holding Margaret’s hand, and with a mumbled apology let it go. The corners of Margaret’s mouth twitched into a slight, amused smile. “What’s so funny?” demanded Culad. Margaret’s smile grew fractionally, “You.” Somehow Culad didn’t think he wanted to ask what that meant. He didn’t have chance anyway; a knot of drunken revellers stumbled out of the building, nearly knocking Culad over, before staggering off. Nursing bruised ribs Culad suggested, “Let’s move before we get trampled again.”
“The entire settlement is one big party, and if we go back to the castle that will be the same. Victory over Aed, temporary peace with Sigtryg, and a wedding – it’s an explosive mixture.”
“I’ve had my fill of parties…we could slip off to the orchard, that’ll be nice and quiet. Sitting under a tree’s not likely to give me a hangover tomorrow.”
“An orchard? You are…quite serious, I do believe.”
“No one looks for a duke in an orchard, and few bother to go there since there’s nothing much to do. I used to spend a lot of time down there.”
“I won’t ask what you were doing.”
“I was sat under a tree thinking up strategy, or catching a bit of peace, that’s what.” Margaret did not look convinced. Mildly frustrated Culad insisted, “I ate the occasional apple too – what were you expecting? Me to claim membership of a horde of undead Satanists who want to drink your blood? Do you ever stop being so suspicious?”
“Suspicion is what I do, it is what I am” Another group of party goers spilled out onto the street from a nearby house, singing loudly. Margaret had to shout to make herself heard, “Oh let’s go Even if the place is swarming with undead it has to be better than this”

Together they walked out of the village, past the castle, and out towards the apple orchard just before the fields. As soon as it was quiet enough to talk normally Margaret asked, “What do you want then?”
“I don’t know that I want anything.”
“Of course you do, why else would you have been searching for me back there?”
“I was going to ask you how much all this cost to arrange.”
“A large bribe to Nuala’s intended to make him forget she exists, a larger bribe to her parents to make them see that your marshal is not such a bad man after all. Away from money it took several days of bargaining, threatening and cajoling to arrange those bribes, and a couple of days to make Nuala calm down enough to realise that she had the opportunity to get what she wanted. It took me far longer to make her see that hanging Donchad from a tree by his entrails, while satisfying, would not help matters much. He got off quite lightly with that black eye.”
“Why’d you do all this anyway? It’s not like you know them.”
“Because you told me to, and you know that vow as well as I – ‘love, honour and obey’.”
“Well you don’t do the first, barely do the second, so I’m supposing you have ground to make up on the third No, you’d set all this in motion before you even wrote to me about it, how else could it be done so fast?”
“So you do have eyes.” There was a hint of appreciation in Margaret’s voice, “Not bad, Culad, not bad at all. The reason’s simple enough, I heard what was going on long ago from my spies. I thought I had seen enough people torn apart by marriages of convenience…it’s always the same, the thing is arranged and off you go without even chance to say goodbye. Not in this case.” Something about that statement bothered Culad, “Was that how it was for you then, leaving someone behind?”
“Do you think king William would have allowed that? There were more than three offers a week pouring in for my hand, do you think he would have allowed even the tiniest hint of scandal to damage that?” Culad’s hunch grew stronger; “I’m thinking a king can’t stop people feeling, even if he can stop them from meeting.”
“Really? Since you seem determined to follow this line and show off, answer your own question – did I leave someone behind?” Culad considered carefully before answering, “No, I don’t think so, not really…no one important.”
“I am almost, almost impressed. I was expecting you to overreach, and say that there was. A vague liking between two people who barely ever met counts for little.”
“Did you have that chance to say goodbye, to this not much?”
“Now you’re prying, reasonably delicately I’ll admit, but still obviously enough to be caught. I’ll answer you one question and no more. No, I had no chance, and why would I? I won’t be lured into giving details like a name.”
“I wasn’t trying to entice details” protested Culad. Margaret smiled and elbowed him in the ribs, “Yes, you were – I do the same thing all the time, so I know how it works Leaving little gaps that people will drip details into, asking harmless questions to get at the real information, prying away while looking tame. I am…quite impressed.”

Impulsively Culad stopped walking and started searching the grass for something. Margaret watched him as he wandered about, bent nearly double, occasionally pausing to look at something she couldn’t see. After about a minute Culad stood up and trotted back to her side, clutching something proudly in his hand. “It’s none so grand, it’s been a poor year for them and it was a job to be finding this one.” Almost shyly Culad held out his prize, a single forget-me-not. Before he could lose his nerve he tucked the flower in Margaret’s hair, behind her ear. Margaret bent her head slightly so Culad could see what he was doing, “Aren’t we a little too old for this?”
“I’m not too old, and you’re younger than me.”
“It’s been more than half a lifetime since I last played this game…” Margaret smiled mischievously and suddenly pushed Culad hard enough to make him stagger back a step, and ran off while he was recovering his balance. Culad recovered quickly and started to run after her. Clutching her skirts in her left hand to avoid tripping over them, Margaret headed towards the orchard fast enough to leave Culad some distance behind. By the time he reached the first of the apple trees Culad couldn’t see her anywhere. He slowed to a stop and caught his breath, “Damn she’s fast”
“No one ever managed to catch me.” commented a voice to Culad’s right, he turned and there was Margaret stood with her back leaning on a tree trunk, tucking the forget-me-not back into her hair. Culad walked over to join her, “You’re supposed to go slow enough that your poor victim can keep up”
“Now where’s the fun in that?” Margaret noticed Culad was staring at her, raising her chin slightly she asked, “What?”
“Nothing.” A raised eyebrow dismissed that answer, “I was thinking you looked happy for once.” Culad adjusted the forget-me-not in Margaret’s hair, carefully arranging each petal while he tried to decide whether to risk his neck or not. An amused smile quirked into life on Margaret’s lips, she had guessed what he was thinking. Cautiously at first, and then with more confidence, Culad kissed her. It took Margaret a while to find her voice afterwards, “Now I’m going to have to send myself to a nunnery.”
“What?”
“I agreed to send anyone you kissed to a nunnery.”
“That won’t be necessary, remember I said there was one who wouldn’t be put off by your threats, one who you can’t be rid of so easily.”
“But that was your suicide…” Margaret’s eyes went wide as she finally understood. Culad grinned as he flopped down onto the grass, sitting with his back leaning against the tree trunk, “You finally caught up, took you a while, I’d say.”
“How was I supposed to know?”
“You’re the suspicious spymaster, you tell me.” Culad tugged on Margaret’s hand, “Sit down, you’re supposed to sit and watch sunset, not stand about trying to be a tree.” When Margaret didn’t move Culad let go of her hand, “Let me guess – you’ve spotted some good reason why standing like that is safer, since I’m such a devious type who’s nothing but a danger.” he couldn’t keep the injury from seeping into his voice. The happiness faded from Margaret, sending her back to her usual seriousness, “No, I was thinking that sitting on damp grass will ruin this expensive dress.” Mutely Culad stood up, took off his cloak and spread it on the ground, and sat back down on it. Margaret daintily seated herself on the other end of the cloak, leaving a gap between them. “We should have been like them.” said Culad suddenly, fiercely. Margaret plucked a daisy that was growing nearby and started to pull the petals off one by one, “Like who?”
“Donchad and Nuala, who else? We should have been like them…happy.”
“Why would we have been? This is a political marriage, after all.”
“And you’re content with that, are you?” demanded Culad, looking intently at Margaret. She kept plucking the petals off her daisy, “It is what I expected.”
“So I’m the only one who wanted, expected more then?” Margaret ran out of petals, and flicked the remains of the flower at Culad, “You could have fooled me - I thought you wanted me to go away the moment I first got off the ship.”
“Well, you were so cold-”
“You mean I didn’t drop at your feet the moment you introduced yourself. Dukes are only impressive to the minor nobility and below, and even king William the Bastard has the sense not to order people to look happy as he disposes of them in political marriages.” Culad looked so dejected that Margaret softened her tone, and picked the daisy off his tunic, “The beginning was inevitable considering the circumstances, but the rest is what we make it.” Culad looked up and met her gaze, “We weren’t doing so bad earlier.”
“No.” she agreed. Culad looked up at the sky, “The stars are beginning to come out. We’ve all but missed the sunset but the stars hang about for a good while longer.”
“The stars might hang about, but the warmth doesn’t.”
“You’re not needing to sit over there and freeze on your own.”
“Ah, is that a famous seduction line from Culad the Lusty?”
“No, as you’ve seen I’m not usually needing to say anything, it was merely an observation. Sometimes you’re too wary for your own good, you know that?”
“Oh yes” acceded Margaret cheerfully. The breeze changed direction slight, and the sound of the carousing in the settlement drifted over. Culad tilted his head to listen, “You know that’ll be keeping up most of the night, it’ll be a lot quieter to stay here all night star gazing. Wise men say you can foresee the future in the heavens; that’s always interested me. I never see the future, but I’m often finding it a pleasant way to waste time.”
“Quieter or not I’m not staying here to freeze.”
“I’ll take you back then.” Culad clambered to his feet and helped Margaret up. Still holding her hand he looked deep into her eyes, “Stay with me tonight.” Margaret quickly looked away, “Please don’t look at me like that, it’s…frightening.” Culad dropped her hand, stepped back and picked up his cloak, trying to look like he wasn’t bothered. Margaret spoke softly, “I thought we both decided we had suffered enough?” Culad looked up from fastening his cloak pin, “It would be different this time.” he said confidently. Margaret shook her head, “I wish I was so certain as you, all I see is the potential for more pain and I’d rather skip that.” Culad turned the whole thing into a joke, hoping to banish the tension that hung in the air, “Probably for the best – I’ve a rather jealous wife who’d send you to a convent anyway. It’d be a criminal waste sending you to be a nun.” Margaret smiled and hesitantly slipped her hand into Culad’s, “We can go star gazing tomorrow…if you want.”
“I’d like that.” Hand in hand they started to walk back.






Want to guess why this bit took so long to wtite? I'll give you a clue, it starts will Culad meeting Margaret again, and ends with them walking off holding hands. Bah I'm beginning to wish I hadn't accepted Sigtryg's peace offer, because then I just send Culad back to the fighting and avoid spending hours trying to write stuff like this.

I don't think it turned out too well, but that is nothing new.

Back to the old layout, since no one asked for the spaced out one to stay.

[The Wizard]

Froggy, you're perfectionistic This is well done, it was involving and absorbing, and I think you have a knack for this

Maybe, if this was supposed to be 'true love' or 'love at first sight', it would be a bit awkward, but the whole scene fits the relation between Margaret and Culad just right http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-thumbsup.gif



~Wiz

[Axeknight]

So, Culad marries first, then starts to romance the fair lady. You've got it the wrong way round, mate. I think old Culad the Lusty needs some lessons in love - now where's that Barry White CD?

[frogbeastegg]

Thanks Wizzy http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/ht_bow.gif Yes, I am a perfectionist because I can't see the point in aiming lower. In this case I am writing something I don't know how to write, I don't read romance, so I don't know how to write it. After spending so long working away at such a short bit it is great to hear I got it right.

Axeknight, Culad doesn't actually have to do anything - Margaret is quite literally his property. Neither of them wanted to get married, but she can't really refuse and he has a certain wild haired cousin pushing him down the aisle. Romance is purely optional, and given the migraine I am getting from writing it I would rather he didn't bother But I can't wimp out because this path is the most dramatic later...

[Axeknight]

*Sits Culad down with a copy of 'The complete works of Jane Austen', a copy of 'Human Anatomy for beginners', and puts the Barry White CD on* Okay, mate, you'll learn all you'll need here http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-stunned.gif

But she can refuse, she's done it before (with the door slamming)

BTW, I don't have any Jane Austen books, nor have I read any. I'm not gay. I don't have any Barry White CDs either. And I don't think I'll find any human anatomy books in the attic. Can anyone else help the Lusty Duke?

[frogbeastegg]

Quote[/b] (Axeknight @ May 09 2004,11:35)]But she can refuse, she's done it before (with the door slamming)
He can batter that door down, or wait until he finds her without a convenient door to hide behind, this is 1066 and it his right enshrined in law, custom and tradition. The only thing stopping him from battering that door down is the fact he doesn't like the idea, and he found that out by experience - remember the do your duty at the wedding? To be valid the marriage has to be consumated, whether they like that or not, and he would be a laughing stock if it wasn't. I'm not saying he got violent, but it was not something either of them wanted.

Culad can do whatever he wants with Margaret, short of killing her, and he could probably get away with that if he trotted out a good excuse like adultery, since he is a duke who will dispute what he says? The same applies to all the other characters, Nuala belongs to Donchad now and to her father before. He was going to force her to marry someone she didn't like because it would get him more benefit than the man she did like.

I don't think he needs the anatomy book, he got that nickname for a reason. It's just a case of winning Margaret's trust and interest, and that requires a very different approach to the the girls he usually runs into (think of Mor, or that brunette). Right now they have a rather delicate liking that can be destroyed very easily by the wrong move, just look at how often they end up accidently insulting each other in that last part. As Donchad kept pointing out the reason Culad didn't like her at first was not because of the way she looks or anything, the reasons is simply becasue she made him feel like a prat, and then like a thug.

[Axeknight]

*snatches anatomy book from Culad* Culad, you filthy... http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-no.gif

Even though Marge is Culad's property, she can still make sure Culio (he's Duke, general and rapper) doesn't get any ideas if she wants - she just needs to convince him it's not a good idea (presumably by being condescending again)

*EDIT*gah, what a convoluted way of saying it - she can't refuse him, but she can be wily and clever and change his mind. But she won't, cause she likes the Cul one aswell

[frogbeastegg]

How can she convince him a heir is not a good idea, especially when it would shut Donchad up? Not to mention quash that rumour about his um, capability. The arguement is academic anyway, since Culad isn't the type to utilise those rights, but at first she doesn't know that and she is a sceptical person anyway.

During this time that is how marriage works, it is entered into to produce heirs, and to gain finanically and politically, nothing more. Persuading someone otherwise, well it just didn't happen.

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 09 2004,14:08)]How can she convince him a heir is not a good idea, especially when it would shut Donchad up?
True. Anyway, doesn't matter, since they're starting to like each other anyways.

[The Wizard]

Just a little question regarding CK as a whole:

Can the County of Holland be played? 'Cause I'm one step away from buying the game, and that would be the faction I'd like most to play...

But first... on to finding the game on a website... couldn't find it on any of the bigger online shops...



~Wiz

[frogbeastegg]

:goes and checks in-game: Yes, you can play as the count of Holland, but as far as I can predict it will be a hard game. You will start as a vassal, have only the one province, and an income of just 3 gold a month.

You can buy the game directly from Paradox, that's what I did. It was a lot cheaper than getting the game from a shop, and the developers get more money from the purchase.

[frogbeastegg]

“A word in your ear, cousin, if I might?” Culad looked up from the stack of proclamations he was affixing his seal to, and saw Donchad looking nervously down at him. With a sigh, and a feeling this was not going to be a word he wanted to hear, Culad put his seal down on the table and leaned back in his chair, “What then?”
“Well it’s about this trip we’re going on tomorrow, your inspection tour of Uliad and Tir Eoghain…”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if I might be asking a favour…”
“Spit it out man, this trailing off mid sentence only makes me expect bad news.”
“I want to bring Nuala with me.” Culad groaned and buried his head in his hands, “We’re going to check how construction’s going on the new training grounds, and to check up on the local nobles. You can’t bring a lone woman along to that, I do believe your brains are cracked”
“You see it’s like this, um she’s got a bit clingy…I’m thinking she’s afeared her family might take advantage of my absence to remove the blot on their honour.”
“Donchad, Margaret took care of all that, so they’ll not be bothering about her any more.”
“She’s not believing that. It’s late May, the roads are none so bad now and it’s good weather to be travelling. I can see it doing no harm.”
“You can’t bring her on her own” Hidden behind his hands Culad’s face melted into horror, “Oh no – you’re not going to suggest-”
“Oh aye, I thought you’d be able to bring your wife along too, and her maids to make up a nice party. It’s usual practise anyway, when going on a grand tour, it lets you land your hosts with a larger bill.” Culad slowly looked up, his face fixed in what he hoped was a neutral expression. He moved to speak, thought better of it, and closed his mouth so quickly his teeth clicked. Donchad beamed down at him encouragingly, “Just think of that heir, for I’m ahead of you there and that seems absurd since you’re needing an heir and I’m not.”
“Some of us have more sense than to create a mess that nearly provokes a war between minor nobles”
“You’re married, so that’s not a problem.” Donchad looked thoughtful, “Or maybe that’s the problem?” Culad choked, “What?” he held up both hands as soon as he spoke, “No, on second thoughts don’t tell me, for I’m not wanting to know” Donchad looked like he was about to say something, Culad waved him into silence and slumped back in his chair, thinking. It wasn’t the idea of taking Margaret along that was the problem, he reflected, it was that Donchad would never stop being, well, Donchad for the entire trip, and that would get wearisome after all of two minutes. “If I consider asking her to come I want your solemn oath that you will not mention anything about heirs, or anything like that – a peaceful trip without your nagging.” Donchad held up his right hand “I swear not to say the ‘h’ word, or anything like that, for the duration of this trip. I’ll go tell Nuala that she’s coming with us.” Culad kept staring into space after Donchad left, wondering if he had just made a mistake…but Donchad couldn’t find a way around that oath, could he?

An hour later at dinner in their private rooms Culad put the question to Margaret, “I’m asking you to go on that tour I’m taking, before you ask why and look at me suspiciously I’ll tell you. I’m going to murder you and dump your body in a river, claiming it was an accident.” Margaret looked up from her stew, “Idiot.” Culad just grinned, “You must admit that you’re always looking for reasoning like that behind all I say.”
“Not everything you say, there are some things I don’t need to search for a hidden meaning or motive in.”
“Really? Like what?”
“Now why would I tell you that?” Margaret finished off the last of her stew, put her spoon down and looked at Culad with an air of superiority. Culad chuckled, “Ah well, it’s probably more fun to figure it out for myself anyway.”
“I couldn’t possibly say.”
“The thing is Donchad wants to bring Nuala along, either that or she won’t let go of him…I couldn’t decide which.”
“And of course you can’t have her travelling around on her own because she might get bored while your incautious cousin is away. If I go with you he’ll be doing his usual best to shove us together.”
“I got his promise that he wouldn’t, how much that is worth we will have to see.”
“You’ll be staying with some of your nobles each night, dropping in as a surprise guest. If I go you’ll have…oh let’s say 5 people more than anyone will estimate. As well as turfing the owner out of his best bedroom you will also be throwing him out of his second best, because there is no way I am sharing with you, and that will probably upset quite a few people who will feel the need to offer us both advice we can live without. There won’t be enough food prepared, and they’ll be expected to lay on entertainment during the day for us while you go off and do your inspecting. It’s going to be utter chaos” Margaret and Culad both grinned at the same time, “I can’t miss this, and I haven’t left this castle since I arrived in Ireland.”
“I knew you’d like the chance to be putting everyone’s noses out of joint. So you’ll come with me then?”
“I think I can become the travelling spymaster with little problem. In fact spending most of the day with the lady folk of our lucky hosts will allow me to dredge some good information up.”

As Sigtryg was shown into Bishop Mael-Isu’s private audience chamber he hoped Fionna had been as accurate as ever with her information. If not this meeting could get…tense. “Greetings, count Sigtryg.” Instead of rising to greet Sigtryg as an equal the bishop stayed seated. Sigtryg ground his teeth together, if that was the game this shrunken little man wanted to play then so be it, let him have his petty insults and regret them later. Pasting a diplomatic smile on his face Sigtryg bowed slightly, “Bishop, a pleasure to see you again to be sure.”
“And under such different circumstances to our last correspondence, more pleasant times for me, most certainly.”
“Your reaction to your tragic loss was most…understandable, Bishop. Being wise men I’m sure we won’t let that influence our agreement about Culad.”
“The Lord gives and the Lord takes away in equal measure, and he visits his displeasure on those who break holy oaths.” Mael-Isu clasped the crucifix he wore about his neck between both hands. Sigtryg forced himself to remain polite, “Just so, and we have an oath.”
“But is it not so that you have an oath to Culad also? Vassal to liege lord. The Almighty has already demonstrated his discontentment with Aed, who also broke his oath. Just as He gave to Aed He has now taken away.”
“Aed is in exile, with my victory he will return.”
“Count Sigtryg, your victory is none so certain in my eyes.”
“With your help it will be, and you’ll not be breaking your word now, will you?”
“Violence is not the way of the church, I cannot march in clear conscience, and see much fault in your cause. My eyes have been opened, and I see clearly now.” Sigtryg decided it was time to make this holy lamb bleat, “And where in the church laws does it say a holy man can have a mistress or five?”
“I am a good son of the church, Sigtryg. Such worldly matters are beyond my knowing.”
“Ah, so you’ll not be having a small young son called Énrí?”
“I am a bishop, it is forbidden.”
“And you’ll not be knowing a woman named Cristina? Or Derbáil? Or Brigit?” Mael-Isu began to sweat, and his carefully cultivated court accent started to waver, “I’m a bishop, I may encounter some with names like so on my travels.”
“Now how about Una?”
“I may have…met some of them, it’s true, but you can hardly be condemning a man for meeting girls, can you? Not innocently, no you can’t condemn for that.” Sigtryg smiled wolfishly, “Oh, I think you’ll be finding you can, now how’s about Imag? Remember what you were doing with her? I do think there is some similarity between all these names, and do be remembering young Énrí.” Mael-Isu tugged at his high collar, “It’s…it’s…a long time ago, back before the celibate clergy ruling was brought in, so it’s no matter. Énrí is nothing to do with me.”
“I thought that ruling was older than a week, bishop?”
“Alright, alright – so I’m none so shiny on the celibate part, but I was ordained back before this ruling and it’s hard on a man to change his ways so It’s harmless, I’ve no children and it’s all discreet.” Sigtryg started to play with the hilt of his dagger, idly and not openly threateningly, “Enri is a mystery then, and I’ll be damned for I thought the boy was yours Now that letter I intercepted from his mother would be a bit of a lie then, for shame on her, tarnishing the name of such a man as you.”
“Er…quite.”
“So I’ll just be having her quietly killed for slander then, and I’d best take care of the brat too or tongues’ll wag.”
“Wouldn’t that be, er…overly drastic?” A bead of sweat dripped off the end of Mael-Isu’s large, hooked nose. Sigtryg turned from wolf to sheep, “Aye, it’d be a terrible shame to kill your family then, now wouldn’t it?” As the Bishop started to protest Sigtryg waved him to silence, “I’m a sensible man, my friend, and I’m seeing no point in that ruling, even if Rome does. I’m seeing no reason why you can’t live a more worldly existence, and doubtless young Énrí will grow up to become a clergyman himself, so you’re merely securing the future of the church.”
“That’s it Aye, that’s it”
“So you’ll start to war on Culad in a month, then, now this unpleasant matter is set to rest?” The Bishop quavered, “I can’t, my liege forbids it – but I can be doing other things, I can…I can…er, I can try to find a more amicable solution to your predicament. One dagger does more than a whole army, sometimes?” Sigtryg patted the Bishop on the arm, “Just so, but make sure of your aim, for I’d be none so pleased if your man got the wrong idea and tried to poke holes in me. We’re agreed now, I think, so I’ll bid you good day.” Whistling cheerfully Sigtryg strode out of the room without a second glance at the shaking bishop.






Mael-Isu, the bishop who got a bastard a few months into my game. He must have been annoyed when clerical celibacy was invented (yes, another stupidly named technology) a few days later.

[Ludens]

I will join the chorus of praises and say the orchard scene is good. Better than you think it is, anyway. It lacks some life, but it has a good balance of romance and detachment.

There is something else though,

Quote[/b] ]“And you’re content with that, are you?” demanded Culad, looking intently at Margaret. She kept plucking the petals off her daisy, “It is what I expected.”
“So I’m the only one who wanted, expected more then?” Margaret ran out of petals, and flicked the remains of the flower at Culad, “You could have fooled me - I thought you wanted me to go away the moment I first got off the ship.”
I have commented on it before in the Eleanor story: if someone else begins speaking, start a new paragraph. It is very annoying if you start reading a sentence without knowing who uttered it. In both cases you can guess who said it, but only after you've read it.

Lastly,

Quote[/b] ]‘love, honour and obey’
I am not quite sure about it, but I think this wedding vow originated from the Anglican church. I don't know whether medieval vows included the obey-part, but the Celts did hold women in quite high esteem. The idea that women are inferior to their husbands seems to have been (re-) invented after the middle ages.

Off course, I am not an historian, so I might be entirely wrong about this.

[frogbeastegg]

Anyone else want to comment on the starting a new paragraph thing? This is how most of the books I read work, so is this a net specifc problem?

You say the orchard scene lacks life, why and how? (well if you start a comment I will ask you to finish it http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-grin.gif)

Let's take the love, honour, obey thing in order of ease to answer:
Obey - sure as heck without question that was in the vows back then. Even if it wasn't said that was what was excepted by the Normans.
Honour - pretty damn sure that was around too.
Love - well that sounded better, and was shorter, than her saying be available for sex on demand with you and no one else http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif

As far as women in history (and medieval marriage ceremonies) go I have very little knowledge, I always found armour more interesting than the Victorian created pap I got pushed at me in most books. The few tiny fragments of proper information I stumbled across are far more interesting, and while different some things they do agree with the wife=property etc thing in the Norman era. It was later, in England anway, that women got a bit more from the law etc. The important thing in this case is that this Ireland is the CK Ireland, not the real one. In CK Ireland is the same as any other country in Western Europe, and that 'same' is the Norman culture.

Now this may be a good place to ask for any recommendations towards good history books on medieval women, the area does seem more interesting when you find out there is more than the Victorian invented ideal. Unfortunately I have found only two books: ‘Terry Jones’ Medieval Lives’, and ‘Women in the Days of Cathedrals’. I have read the former and am still waiting on the later to arrive by post.

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 10 2004,19:53)]Love - well that sounded better, and was shorter, than her saying be available for sex on demand with you and no one else http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif
*sigh* I might as well say it, save the other male commenters from getting an earful. Here goes:

Yeah, but that's a better way of saying it

All happy now?



But seriously, the Bish-bashing scene was excellently written.

[Ludens]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 10 2004,19:53)]Anyone else want to comment on the starting a new paragraph thing? This is how most of the books I read work, so is this a net specifc problem?
I think it has something to do with the fact that you do not explicitly state that Margaret is talking. You just say she is busy with the daisy without mentioning whether she talks or stays silent. It might be a reaction of Culad to her lack of response, or it might be that she is speaking. Before you get the meaning of the sentence you do not know. So starting a new paragraph should not be necessary, as long as you say who is talking.


Quote[/b] ]You say the orchard scene lacks life, why and how? (well if you start a comment I will ask you to finish it http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-grin.gif)
Do I have to define what life is? I have been trying to do that ever so often when writing my own stories http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif .
A conversation, especially a meaningful one, is more than just words. Tone, pronunciation and especially body language play a large part. You have done that very well here (I doubt I could do it just as well) but it will improve if you add a little more between the lines. But this is a delicate balance.


Quote[/b] ]The few tiny fragments of proper information I stumbled across are far more interesting, and while different some things they do agree with the wife=property etc thing in the Norman era.
I should known it was a bad idea to argue history with an historian. OK, I was wrong,
http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/ht_surrender.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Axeknight I do generally tend to try to make things sound vaguely reasonable, so when someone gets stabbed we don't hear about the blade getting stuck in the body due to suction caused by the blood and guts. I also try to keep things sounding snappy, one word instead of half a sentence. This 'love' thing is just another case of that, give the story another hmmm, year or two and you won't be able to say either sex gets preferential treatment... :grins gleefully because this is going to bug readers for a long time until things get revealed:

Er, bish-bashing? When I hear that term it is usually meaning fighting, but the swords in skulls bit finished some time ago. You mean their soppy moment?

Ludens, now you have expanded a bit on your structure point I think I get what you mean. I'll work on it...

Thanks for elaborating on 'life', not that easy to fix up since I have no idea what I am doing. Again I will see what can be done...

You weren't necessarily wrong on the history point, most of my medieval history is limited to England. Ireland was a very different place; alas CK does not give the country that difference. Then again it is a good thing, because I don’t know enough to write a proper medieval Irish story

I think I will hit the monastery over that book question http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-book2.gif

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 11 2004,09:53)]Er, bish-bashing? When I hear that term it is usually meaning fighting, but the swords in skulls bit finished some time ago. You mean their soppy moment?
No, Bish-Bashing. Bashing the Bish. Sigtryg intimidatating the Bishop of Mar. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-stupid.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Quote[/b] (Axeknight @ May 11 2004,16:20)]
Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 11 2004,09:53)]Er, bish-bashing? When I hear that term it is usually meaning fighting, but the swords in skulls bit finished some time ago. You mean their soppy moment?
No, Bish-Bashing. Bashing the Bish. Sigtryg intimidatating the Bishop of Mar. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-stupid.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif
http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-stunned.gif You know when you don't think it is some kind of wannabe c00l slang that is quite obvious. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-mad.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-dunce.gif

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 11 2004,17:24)]some kind of wannabe c00l slang
Hate that with a passion. I honestly don't care about your l337 mAd sK177z mate. Neither do I want to play some mindless FPS with you. And no, I don't want you to insult me crudely when your jump around like a retard while mindlessly pressing the fire button of your rocket launcher 'tactic' pays off. GAH Give me TW I shall whip your hollow head into shape there, oh bespectacled nerd, ye

I feel strongly on this issue. That's why I don't play multiplayer FPS games.

Back on topic. That scene was great. Sigtryg wrapping the Bish around his finger, slowly, calmly intimidating him. Excellent http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

[frogbeastegg]

A few pictures while I work on the next part.

http://www.totalwar.org/patrons/story/frogbeasteggMael-Isu.jpg
Mael-Isu, the bishop with problems http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-grin.gif

http://www.totalwar.org/patrons/story/frogbeasteggConchbar.jpg
This is Conchbar, duke of Dublin and Meal-Isu's liege lord. He's not doing much now, but it's good to know who Mael-Isu answers to when he isn't being bullied or manipulated.

http://www.totalwar.org/patrons/story/frogbeasteggDunsleive.jpg
This ugly chap is Dunsleive, Donchad's brother. Donchad inherited all the family's very limited good looks, since his father looks a lot like Dunsleive. You'll see why he gets a picture soon enough, well a hint of why...

http://www.totalwar.org/patrons/story/frogbeasteggFionnghulla.jpg
And this pointy faced shrew alike is Fionnghualla, Dunsleive's wife. I suspect she could imitate a woodpecker with that nose Again, explantions later...

[frogbeastegg]

Noiselessly, painfully slowly Culad crept forward in a half crouch, notching an arrow to his short bow and preparing to draw. He tensed as the deer looked up, almost right at him. The moment was broken as a boy of no more than eight wearing the colours of a page in the service of Culad’s current host crashed loudly through the trees. The deer took fright and ran off. Culad stood up and put the arrow back in his quiver, cursing under his breath. The boy skidded to a halt, and knelt, holding out a letter to Culad. Culad snatched the letter and thrust his bow into the hands of the messenger, and turned away to read in private.
Duke Culad, I beg your indulgence in this matter, and think I may be of aid to you. I know of the discord between yourself and your count, Sigtryg, and as a pious man of the church this causes my heart to bleed at the needless fighting that inflicts such a heavy cost upon Ulster. With your permission I would volunteer to act as a neutral go-between in the interests of settling this matter in a way that benefits all. I pray you, let me invite both you and Sigtryg to my court, where you may discuss your differences in a safe setting, and fear no treachery. Write to me of your answer, I will do all that I can in your service.
Mael-Isu, Bishop of Mide
Culad turned back to the boy, “Go and find lady Margaret, tell her of this, and to meet me in my rooms as soon as possible – this is a matter of great import. Find my marshal and tell him the same message. Make sure they get the impression this is important” The boy bobbed a quick bow and started to run back. Culad shouted after him, “Hey Give me back my hunting bow”

As soon as Culad walked into his room he was met with a mildly sarcastic rebuke from Margaret, “This had better be good – you dragged me away from another afternoon of hearing people clucking over Nuala while casting significant looks in my direction, and you know how much I enjoy that.”
Culad looked about the room, “Where’s Donchad? I told that page to find both of you.”
“He was here, briefly, but he left muttering something about needing to talk to Nuala rather urgently while he still had money left.” Culad pulled the letter out and gave it to Margaret. As soon as she finished reading it she spoke, “If you meet in Sigtryg’s ground you’ll be killed or taken prisoner, if you meet on our land we will do likewise to Sigtryg. Truly neutral ground would allow a fairer game, but the trick is in forcing them to play to that. I can do that, or more correctly I will trick the bishop into choosing where we want to go.”
“How?”
“Simple, I’ll arrange for his current favourite to move to where we want the meeting. Where she goes the bishop will follow. All too easy.”
“You sure this will work?”
“If you’re going to cast doubts on my skills I’ll retire and let someone else sort this.”
“I’ll need another…oh call it three weeks to finish my grand tour, then a few days at home to rest would be nice, so make sure I’ve a month from now at the least.”
“Something in late June, early July? I think I will procrastinate a little past that, to make them work harder at talking us into going, we will have more negotiating power that way.”
“Settled then, so back to what we were at before…though I doubt I’ll be finding that particular deer to hunt again.”
“And I’ll go back to hearing about how healthy Nuala looks, and how it’s all such a blessing, and so soon too, how marvellous” Margaret rolled her eyes and pulled a face, “I’d think they have no brains, if I couldn’t see the slight insult hidden behind the timing comments. All the same when fishing for details of goings on they may as well have no brains, or caution for that matter. Our host has been skimming a bit off the top of the taxes, same as everyone else, but he has been that little bit too ambitious, and the sum is worth noticing. I think we should squash him, claim back all he owes and more in a sudden tax to pay for repairs in Tir Eoghain. The poor man has been betrayed by an expensive dress that his wife just had to boast about.”
“Sounds a good idea to me, I’m thinking I’ll let him consider it a donation he decided upon himself, I’ll just drop a few hints over dinner. Right, back to work” Margaret started to move unenthusiastically towards the door. Culad tucked his thumbs through his belt and frowned, “You look like you’re off to your death” Margaret shot him a look that suggested death might be preferable, and kept walking as though she suspected that if she stopped she wouldn’t be able to summon the motivation to continue onwards. Culad caught up with her in a few rapid strides, and blocked her path, “I’ll tell you what, I’ll take you out for the rest of the afternoon, none can complain if I steal you, and I’m thinking there’s little left for you to find out here.” Margaret looked up into Culad’s hopeful face, as she pretended to consider the offer. Linking arms with Culad she said, “Why not, a peaceful afternoon with just the two of us.” They both finished that thought at the same time, speaking simultaneously, “But let’s not tell Donchad”






So now you get a choice, do I (try) to write their afternoon off, or do I just skip it? Nothing important happens, to me it classes as the kind of thing you skim read, but since more Culad/Margaret stuff has been requested both here and elsewhere I thought I'd leave it open to readers.

You have 24 hours, if people ask I'll try to write something, otherwise I'll skip on to the next interesting bit. No answer will be taken as a No Don't inflict more horror on us.
While I wait for a decision I'll keep writing the future. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-juggle.gif

[The Wizard]

If it's an interesting back-and-forth conversation, yes, indeed I'd like to read it. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-yes.gif



~Wiz

[Axeknight]

Meh, go for it. despite what you say, you write that stuff well *runs to safe distance* http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

[Ludens]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 12 2004,18:29)]You have 24 hours, if people ask I'll try to write something, otherwise I'll skip on to the next interesting bit. No answer will be taken as a No Don't inflict more horror on us.
I'd say the decision to inflict horror upon us is entirely your own http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif .

[Louis de la Ferte Ste Colombe]

It's too easy not to make this kind of decision...

Louis,

[frogbeastegg]

:stares after the running Axeknight, too shocked to say anything:

I ask because this is the kind of scene I hate reading, but other people seem to like. It doesn't achieve anything plot wise, and any information gleaned will be the useless type. I suppose it might be possible to claim the scene is illustrating the changing aspects of their relationship, but even that is not really needed becasue other, more important scenes do that.

It is basically a question of do you want to read a very focused story, or one that elaborates a bit more? I have been mulling the scene over for a few days now, unable to decide whether to include it or not. The crux of the matter is that it is rather pointless, but um, 'nice' or whatever you romance lovers want to call it. This story has a lot of ground to cover, it is already 38 pages long and I estimate it will end up at more than 120 when I reach the possible ending. I don't know whether to build it from just muscle and bone, or to add a bit of fat to the mix. With something this long it looks like a fine balance between lacking detail and making the story so long people get bored.

[Axeknight]

Add some fat - makes the meat taste better. How philosophical was that? Nice one Axe...

On reflection, I have noticed a rather bizarre coincidence, in that in part 3 of Fitzjohn, there's going to be a marriage of a lesser character (no spoilers). I definately haven't been influenced, as I wrote the scene before I read about Doncho's wedding, but it seems strange, nonetheless...

[Ludens]

Now I understand the question better.

If you have been requested to write more love scenes, then you should do so. Personally, I don't care much about such scenes, but I don't mind seeing how it's done.

As for the detailed vs. focused question, I am on Axeknight's side. Details are like flavour to a story, so you shouldn't use them sparingly. Elongation does not have to be bad, as long as it doesn't slow the story very much.
But only you can judge if the scene does that.

[frogbeastegg]

A large drop of water dripped from the leaking roof and went straight down the back of Culad’s neck. Ruefully he wiped the water away and stepped over to the side, and sat down on the hay that filled the barn. Margaret stayed by the doorway, watching the rain and wringing her long hair out, trying in vain to stop it dripping in her eyes.
“We needed a bit of rain.” ventured Culad. Margaret combed her hair out with her fingers, and tried to dry her wet hands on her equally sodden dress. Casting a final look at the down pour she wandered over to join Culad, “I’m soaked, my hair will take hours to dry, this barn is…rancid, and yet somehow this is still better than being stuck in a room with Ailbe and friends, hearing about the power of prayer and herbs in conceiving a son.”
“I can think of other things to try first that’d be a sight more effective, unless you’ve some pact going on with the Almighty to be the next Mary.”
Margaret flashed an impish grin at Culad, “Oh no, it’s for yourbenefit. They say if you were capable you’d have a few children by now.”
Culad looked outraged, “Not all of us so hopeless as Donchad the Incautious Why is no one ever thinking of that? It’s just that I’m not so over keen on an army of bastards messing up my inheritance lines, and anyway I’d be having to feed them and find them work – it’s too much hassle” Culad flopped back onto the hay, staring up at the rotting thatch roof. Margaret sat down next to him, “What a lovely afternoon, a brief walk in the sunshine before the heavens opened and now we can enjoy the ambience of decay in this delightful rustic barn while we wait for the rain to stop. You know the moment we make a break for it the rain will start again, so we’ll be soaked a second time?”
“Oh aye, it’s traditional spring happenings; rain, more rain, gap in rain to tempt you out, then even worse rain. It’s probably a good thing you didn’t like any of my usual duke’s day off activities, hunting in this’d be foul.” When Margaret said nothing in reply Culad’s eyes flicked over towards her, and he tried, unsuccessfully, to raise one eyebrow, “Ah, I’ve no idea how you do that eyebrow thing, even if it is looking good and impressive Now as I was going to say, no witty comeback, no comment on how right you were about standing in front of boars with nothing but a spear to protect you being a bad idea?”
Margaret cocked an eyebrow, “No, I know what you were hoping I’d say, and I can also foresee your reply. I’m not walking into that trap so easily.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” innocence dripped off each word.
Margaret snorted rather indelicately, “I’d say that your ideas are bad and we’d have been rained on with all of them. Then you’d point out that at least one of them is better indoors, sticking me in a neat trap. I think not.”
“That suspicious mind of yours is doing you no favours again, I’m meaning playing a board game. If you play draughts outside some sheep’ll come along and eat your counters, and that’s spoiling things.”
Despite herself Margaret laughed, “Does that tongue of yours ever stop lying? You’ll say something then dodge out of your meaning when it looks like I’ll take offence – do you ever think I do this on purpose to see what stupid excuse you’ll come up with next? Sheep”
“And on that note I think I’ll go to sleep – I’m ignoring you until you can play nicely” Culad shut his eyes, and went still. Margaret waited for him to get bored with his act, but he didn’t move for a few minutes. Quietly Margaret picked up a long piece of straw and tickled Culad’s nose with it. His nostrils twitched and his arm shot out and grabbed Margaret, pulling her down on top of him. He aimed a rakish smile at his surprised wife, before kissing her passionately. With some difficulty Margaret twisted half free and lay down next to him, with one of Culad’s arms still around her and resting her head on his shoulder, “So that’s why they have a saying about here, ‘let sleeping dukes lie’.”
“I wasn’t asleep, and what else could I be doing when you torment me so?” Culad scratched his nose with his free hand, “Blast it; that itches”
“You were ignoring me, I had to get your attention somehow.”
“And why would you be wanting my attention?” Culad turned his head to look Margaret in the eye, she blushed and tried to summon a little dignity to her reply, “I have no idea.”
“No?” he kissed her again, “I can think of a few reasons.” he kissed her a third time.
Margaret adroitly applied her elbow to his ribs, “Don’t start that again, I’m beginning to feel like I’ve had this conversation before.” Margaret’s blush deepened, “You certainly picked a romantic location to try your luck”
Culad looked about at the rickety walls, rotting thatch, and missing door, “Oh yes, I’ve a real knack for romance.”

The next day Culad’s entourage moved on to the last important family in Uliad, the seat of Donchad’s elder brother Dunsleive. As usual Donchad rode next to Culad, but today he was silent, with none of his customary humour. Culad had long since given up on trying to talk to his cousin, as all he got in answer was a noncommittal, distracted grunt. After an entire morning of this Donchad finally spoke up, “I need a pay rise.”
“You’ve never said so before, you always said you weren’t wanting one when I offered.”
“Nuala says I’m marshal and should live like it. She’s very, um, set on that.”
“I see no harm, I’ll grant you a new manor, and income to match.”
“I hope to God she doesn’t want more.” exhaustion tinged Donchad’s voice, and he sank back into his listless gloom, ignoring Culad’s questioning glance.






Hmm, not so bad in a way. The ending of their barn scene is perhaps a little abrupt, but I ran out of ideas that aren't needed elsewhere. Ah well, that's it for the side trip, now back to the beaten path...

Oh yes, tell me if that is any better for your clarity issue, Ludens. I have broken things up slightly differently.

[Ludens]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 15 2004,18:07)]Tell me if that is any better for your clarity issue, Ludens. I have broken things up slightly differently.
Very good, and I was paying special attention to it. At one point only I had some trouble. I am still not 100% sure that Culad said this:

Quote[/b] ]Margaret adroitly applied her elbow to his ribs, “Don’t start that again, I’m beginning to feel like I’ve had this conversation before.” Margaret’s blush deepened,

[frogbeastegg]

Nope, that's Margaret talking. If I colour code it it should be obvious how I tried to break it up. Red for what Culad is saying and doing, purple for Margaret:

No?” he kissed her again, “I can think of a few reasons.” he kissed her a third time.
Margaret adroitly applied her elbow to his ribs, “Don’t start that again, I’m beginning to feel like I’ve had this conversation before.” Margaret’s blush deepened, “You certainly picked a romantic location to try your luck”
Culad looked about at the rickety walls, rotting thatch, and missing door, “Oh yes, I’ve a real knack for romance.”

See? A new line when it swaps from one to the other. :sigh: back to the drawing board then http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-wall.gif

[The Wizard]

I found that part quite understandable; it was Margaret.

Ol' Ludens needs his glasses, methinks... http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif



~Wiz

[Ludens]

http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-embarassed.gif Margaret's blushing must have put me on the wrong track. I can hardly imagine her as someone blushing at her own remarks


Quote[/b] (The Wizard @ May 15 2004,19:27)]Ol' voigt needs his glasses, methinks... http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif
Old Voigt? You aren't confusing me with Voigtkampf, are you? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

[The Wizard]

Gah, I'm not very sharp meself. Argh, killed my own joke GAH


~Wiz http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-lost.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Hehe, the blush Ah, thrown by such a small and yet important detail. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-blush.gif

Compare the two similar occasions:

Still holding her hand he looked deep into her eyes, “Stay with me tonight.” Margaret quickly looked away, “Please don’t look at me like that, it’s…frightening.” Culad dropped her hand, stepped back and picked up his cloak, trying to look like he wasn’t bothered. Margaret spoke softly, “I thought we both decided we had suffered enough?” Culad looked up from fastening his cloak pin, “It would be different this time.” he said confidently. Margaret shook her head, “I wish I was so certain as you, all I see is the potential for more pain and I’d rather skip that.”

And then the new bit:

No?” he kissed her again, “I can think of a few reasons.” he kissed her a third time.
Margaret adroitly applied her elbow to his ribs, “Don’t start that again, I’m beginning to feel like I’ve had this conversation before.” Margaret’s blush deepened, “You certainly picked a romantic location to try your luck”
Culad looked about at the rickety walls, rotting thatch, and missing door, “Oh yes, I’ve a real knack for romance.”

Note the difference in what she says and how she says it? The first time she really isn't interested, the mere idea upsets her because, as I keep hinting, things really didn't go too well on their wedding night and she got rather badly hurt, but let's not go into that or I'll wind up going bright red myself Now in today's scene she has...forgotten how bad it was, or at least enough to not want to run at the mere hint of interest, she likes Culad a lot more, and isn't so scared - it's the location she is objecting to. That would be why she is blushing...

[Axeknight]

Heir problem sorted, methinks. There's a weight off Doncho's mind.

Speaking of the Donch, why's he suddenly become so depressed? He seemed utterly head over heels with Nuala before, but now...?

[frogbeastegg]

Quote[/b] (Axeknight @ May 15 2004,21:13)]Heir problem sorted, methinks. There's a weight off Doncho's mind.
:fights urge to yell spoilers very loudly: GAH Life is not nearly so simple.


Quote[/b] ]Speaking of the Donch, why's he suddenly become so depressed? He seemed utterly head over heels with Nuala before, but now...?
Slow burning thing, you just got your first hint with “I hope to God she doesn’t want more.” and his sudden need for a pay rise, just wait until you see how this develops over a few years...

[The Wizard]

Yeah, I can see where this is going to... http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wave.gif



~Wiz

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 15 2004,22:16)]“I hope to God she doesn’t want more.” and his sudden need for a pay rise,
What, Nuala's a druggie? And Donchad has to feed her addiction? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

But seriously, if what I think is happening is happening, then this will be very interesting to follow....

[frogbeastegg]

That evening Culad was on his way through the narrow, dark corridors of Dunsleive’s stone manor house, heading towards the room he had been given when the door to Donchad’s room flung open, and the marshal staggered out backwards as his young wife advanced on him, “Nuala, be reasonable-” pleaded Donchad. Unable to escape into his own room, and unnoticed by the quarrelling pair, Culad ducked back into the shadows and prayed they would go away before they noticed him. Nuala prodded Donchad in the chest and hissed, “If that pointy faced, ugly old hag has two lady’s maids I want two maids No, three I’m better than her and I’ll have my due”
“Nuala-”
“If you can’t match your brother when you’re a better man than him then you’re not being given your due by Culad, and you’ll have to demand it If your brother can afford to give his wife two maids then you can afford three”
“Dunsleive’s inherited more than me, I’ve had to make my own way.”
Nuala caressed Donchad’s cheek and smiled, “And look how far you’ve gone, marshal.”
Donchad caught her hand and clasped it between both of his; “You shouldn’t get so worked up like that, it worries me.”
Nuala’s lip wobbled and a tear escaped from the corner of her eye, “I’m sorry...I get so…so lonely when you’re not here and…it’s not easy…I feel so ill.” she burst into tears, Donchad pulled her close to him, and she buried her face in his tunic. He stroked her long, blonde hair and said soothingly, “You’ll have your maids then, to keep you company.” Still in each other’s arms Donchad and Nuala went back in to their room and shut the door. Culad seized the chance and made a run for his own room, wrenching the door open, diving through and shutting it as quietly as possible behind him. He exhaled, and sagged back against the door, relieved he had gone unnoticed. It was only when he started to move away from the door that he noticed Margaret sat by a candle, reading a piece of parchment while finishing a bowlful of raspberries. She didn’t look up, but asked with polite interest, “Do you always enter the room in such spectacular style, or is that something special for tonight?”
“I thought the room was empty, you could have given me a heart seizure if I’d not spotted you first”
Margaret neatly placed her reading material on the table next to her and turned her attention to Culad, “I do hope not, we’re getting on so well. It’d be a shame if you spoiled everything by dropping dead.” Culad found the room only had one chair; the one Margaret was perched on, and so he seated himself on the tiny table next to Margaret, nearly knocking the empty bowl onto the floor. Margaret got to her feet, “Oh for heavens sake You have the chair and I’ll stand, or you’ll knock the candle over and burn our host’s home down.”
“Ah, well I’ll be solving our seating problem easily enough now them.” Culad sat down, and pulled Margaret onto his knee. After a slight hesitation she slipped an arm around his shoulders and settled back against his chest. “So what was the cause of your impressive appearance just now?”
“Donchad and Nuala…lover’s tiff, or somesuch right in the middle of my path. They didn’t see me, and I wanted to be sure they had no chance to either. So what’re you doing here?”
Margaret frowned, “You’ve forgotten? You have, haven’t you?”
“No, course not, why would I forget?” Culad’s memory started working overtime, looking for whatever it was he had overlooked. Margaret sat up slightly, “You haven’t? Then what were we supposed to be doing this evening?”
“Er…well we were…going to…” his stalled attempt to trigger a clue died under Margaret’s piercing gaze. Culad switched to plan 2 and began apologising, “Sorry, I’m so busy that my mind’s a thing with holes in”
Margaret seemed furious, until her mask cracked and she laughed, “You’re too easy to bait We have arranged nothing, so you’ve forgotten nothing. I’m disappointed, usually you see through these tricks.”
“I feel so abused.” whined Culad, Margaret just laughed harder.
Culad sniffed and ignored her mirth, pretending he hadn’t just made a prat our of himself, “You’ve still not said why you are here.”
“No, and I’m not likely to since I don’t know why I’m here myself.”
“Oh, right, that’s making perfect sense then.”
“I’m delighted you agree with me.” There was a very long pause as they both waited for the other to say the obvious. In the end Culad decided it was up to him, “You’re not going to say anything, I’m not in the mood for repeating myself yet again, so how about you stay here and we see what happens?”
Margaret studied him through narrowed eyes, “Very clever, if you don’t ask anything specific now I can’t object to anything specific too easily, and if I do try you’ll just claim I’ve got the wrong idea. I’ve remembered why I elected to visit you now - those rumours about Fionghulla’s dead parents sound interesting enough to merit investigation. We could have a kin slayer on our hands, combine that with her innate suspicion and vengeful streak and we could have a problem. If you ever need a new spymaster she’d make a good choice, assuming you don’t want her on trial for murder.”
“Why’re you mentioning that now? And why’d I want to replace you as spymaster anyway, since you’re good at the job?”
“Just keeping you on your toes, and you did ask to be kept up to date with any particularly good information I found.”
“Moreover it’s a handy reason to avoid answering my question.”
“If I stay here I’ll have thrown our hosts out of their second best room for nothing.” She grinned, a fraction of a second later Culad matched her grin with one of his own, “I’ll lock the door then.”








Gah Writing that gave me a real headache, until I remembered that when playing cat and mouse the best way to answer a question is not to say anything at all. And so the much needed heir to froggy controlled Ulster comes one step closer http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/mecry.gif

I'd be interested in hearing those two Nuala theories, to see just how much of the future you have guessed, or how wrong you both are. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-grin.gif You won't get all of the plot arc, but you might be able to get pieces of it. Then, of course, there is this new scene to add in...

Now back to writing the next few scenes, and they should be far easier.

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 16 2004,15:50)]I'd be interested in hearing those two Nuala theories,
I'm going for the dramatic one:

Oh Donchad, Nuala said tenderly, linking her arm through his as they walked through the forest. you're such a wonderful man. she gazed into his eyes. Donchad kissed her, and she spoke again. So wise, so brave, such a great warrior. Suddenly, her gaze hardened, You are by far the better man than Culad, yet he is the Duke and you are the marshal. she sighed.
Nuala, Donchad spoke softly, why are you speaking of these things? We are happy, are we not?
Yes, my husband, she fluttered her eyes, but we could so much happier. I could be so much happier.
But how, Nuala?
Oh, if only you were Duke, my Donchad. If only
What? Donchad looked into her eyes, and saw in them what she planned. No. No Nuala. Never
But I have already begun the preparations, my Donchad soon, you will be Duke

[frogbeastegg]

Lady MacBeth goes Irish? No, not even close. Well, ok there is a hint of ambition in her but not like that...

[frogbeastegg]

The next day, while Culad was off with Dunsleive inspecting the progress on the training grounds the duke had ordered built throughout Uliad, Margaret found herself once again trapped in a room full of women, but for once they weren’t fussing about Nuala. Nuala didn’t seem too happy with this lack of attention, and she sat near the window trying to look dramatically weak and ill. To Margaret’s eternal delight and gratitude Fionnghualla and the four maids ignored this posing, and quietly continued their sewing. Nuala made a ‘brave’ effort to start some polite conversation; “I’ve not yet thanked you, Margaret, for asking duke Culad to give my husband his due. I know you must have bent his ear to make him part with the land, and we’re both deeply grateful.” At the word ‘Culad’ Margaret’s two maids started giggling, though one glare from Margaret shut them up quickly. Margaret forced a polite smile, “Oh don’t thank me, I had nothing to do with Culad’s decision. Just because I am duchess, well it doesn’t mean I have any part in every decision my husband makes.”
Nuala flushed slightly at the emphasis on ‘duchess’, “Of course not, lady Margaret, but I feel it my duty to extend both my own, and my husbands thanks none the less.”
Margaret’s forced smile grew larger, “You are so polite, and so well mannered Nuala. Donchad must consider himself lucky indeed.”
“As I’m sure duke Culad considers himself lucky in you, ladyship.”
Margaret heard more giggling coming from the corner where her two maids were working and glared once again in their direction, “Enough Either get out or shut up, if you’re going to keep giggling every time someone says ‘Culad’ I will replace you Honestly I’ve no idea what’s the matter with you, but it’s damned annoying.” The younger of the two maids made a valiant effort to control herself, but failed and started choking. Rolling her eyes Margaret gestured at the other maid, “Take her away, give her a drink or something before she expires, and don’t come back. At all. You can both find work in the kitchen when we return home.” The older maid helped her friend away; as soon as the door shut behind the pair Margaret noticed Fionnghualla and Nuala were both staring at her.
Margaret went back to her reading, “That’s the last time I take the steward’s advice on hiring maids.” Sensing an opportunity Nuala mopped her brow, “Oh I do feel hot, is it just me or is today unbearably hot?” Neither Margaret nor Fionnghualla looked up and both answered at the same time, “No.”
“Oh, perhaps it’s me then.” Nuala fluttered a piece of cloth in the air before her. When this failed to have the desired effect she tried again, “I think you’ll have to forgive me, and ask the kitchen staff to prepare some light broth for me, for heavier food’ll just upset my stomach and it’d be a shame to spoil that feast you’re planning for tonight.” Fionnghualla kept stitching away, precise and speedy, and there was a hint of something biting in her tone as she spoke, “That’d be a great shame then, but it can’t be helped. Poor dear, you’re suffering so badly, and you’ve another six months to go afore it’ll get any better. I’m sure the mothers do exaggerate greatly when they say it only gets worse.” Nuala looked sympathetic but there was no doubting her own veiled insult, “You’re lucky you never suffered so, lacking children as you are. It’s a mystery why The Lord has chosen to spare you the joys of motherhood, as you’re doubtless worthy of such a blessing.”
Fionnghualla carefully tied off one thread and picked out a new colour from her sewing basket, “Oh there’s no mystery in it so far as I’m concerned, and certainly no disadvantage. When I look at you, and how ill you are and think how long nine months really are when they drag by, slowly, day by day in illness and discomfort, well I see a small bonus.”
“I am sure your husband has been so understanding of your…trouble. It must be hard on him, knowing his line dies with him.”
“Have you seen my husband?” asked Fionnghualla with a slight smirk, “Then perhaps you’ll understand that the trouble, as you’re so eloquently calling it, is solely his own…that big chin, the nose, the limp, greasy hair, the fact he looks like a cat threw him up after eating a bad mouse. Perhaps you’ll also understand that he found a very good reason to keep his distance when I suggested he speak to my parents.” Margaret had been following this exchange with detached interest, but paid special attention to that last comment. Fionnghualla’s parents had both died on the day of her wedding, at their daughter’s hand if Margaret’s suspicions were correct. Having won one round Fionnghualla went for a second victory, “I notice you haven’t any lady’s maids, Nuala. I’m insisting you take both of mine, for you’re needing them more than I.” Nuala started to speak, but Fionnghualla held up a hand and forestalled any argument, “No, I’m adamant – you’re looking so peaky and ailing even though you try to hide it. You’ll take them both, or you’ll risk ending up wrinkled, bloated, and aged, or worse yet dead, because of this difficult pregnancy. I wouldn’t want you to feel hard done by, not while I’m in perfect health.” Nuala excused herself, claiming a sudden feeling of sickness and left the room.
Margaret looked over the top of her papers, “That was mean, she is actually suffering almost as much as she claims…but all the same.” she shook her head in grudging admiration.
Fionnghualla went back to her sewing, “Next time I’m thinking she’ll be a sight more careful where she complains, and how loudly.”
“Just like your husband learned that talking to your parents is not a good thing?” Fionnghualla’s eyes narrowed, “I’d not said if my parents were alive or no, and despite that terrible accident with the bad shrimps during the feast he’d had more than enough time to talk to them and find I’d taken a vow of celibacy and they’d not see it broken, married or not, and that this marriage was a special favour in light of his relentless suit and good prospects.”
“Oh I’m sure that was the case.” Margaret smiled, showing her teeth ever so slightly, “It’s not as if he’d be afraid of a dagger in the dark”
“No.” replied Fionnghualla. Tension hung in the air, both women knew the vow had never existed, and the shrimps had contained poison to remove a pair of parents who had upset a vengeful daughter by forcing her into a marriage she didn’t like, and both knew the other knew. Margaret injected a bit of false pity into her voice, “It’d be a shame if anyone else connected with you in any way died, then rumours would start and being accused of murder would only add to your grief.”
“Yes, it’d be a fair shame to be talked of so. This is my house, and I’m not taking kindly to other’s poking around.”
“I’m the duke’s wife, and that makes all of Ulster my house. I think we understand each other.”





Cat fight, a very polite one but also a dangerous one for all involved. Poor Nuala never stood a chance, far too young and completely outclassed by the other two. That was fun, half an hour to write and not involving any mush of any variety http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-grin.gif

[frogbeastegg]

A knocking at the door woke Culad up; by the feeble light he could tell it was barely even dawn yet. He smothered a groan, it was the 2nd of July and he had only just got back from his long tour yesterday. His hopes of staying in bed until a few hours past dawn evaporated as the knocking came again, this time louder. Blearily he wondered how he was going to get up to answer the door without waking Margaret up, since her head was resting on his chest. The question was answered for him when Margaret murmured sleepily, “Either find out what they want or tell them to go away.” Culad weighed his options, he could stay where he was, nice and comfortable or he could get up and his feet would freeze. The person hammered on the door a third time, Culad shouted, “Go to hell” The voice on the other side insisted, “I can’t, Lordship, leastways not ‘till I’ve delivered this message.” Margaret rolled over, dragging the covers off Culad as she went, “Off you go then, have fun.” She apparently went back to sleep. Muttering that this message had better be about the end of the world, or something equally dramatic Culad tugged on his tunic and wandered over to the door. He dragged back the bolt and opened the door a crack, to see a mud spattered young man wearing his colours and holding out a letter. Culad took the note and shut and bolted the door, the messenger hammered on the door again, “Hey, what about my fee?”
“Let sleeping dukes lie, old adage in these parts, and it’s good wisdom too. If this turns out to be worth the trouble I’ll send something down to you at a more civilised hour” Culad sat back down on the bed, examining the wax seal on the letter. Margaret turned over to look at him, “Age old adage? I thought it was not quite two months ago I said that?”
“Our early bird of a messenger’s not knowing that. It’s from Mael-Isu, somehow I’m thinking this isn’t going to be worth the fuss of waking up so early.” Culad broke the seal, folded the piece of parchment out, and struggled to read the bishop’s spidery hand writing in the poor light. He took so long that Margaret impatiently asked, “Well? What’s it say?”
“Sigtryg’s delayed our meeting by two weeks, possibly more. He says his wife’s ill and he won’t leave until she is better.”
“How touching. Delay tactics?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Sigtryg was always a bit funny about family. You send your spies out, then we’ll be seeing how much truth there is in this.”
“Look on the bright side – we get a few more days to rest before we have to leave again.”
“True, now since we’re awake…” Culad tried to kiss Margaret but she batted him away with one hand, exclaiming, “Stubble Either go shave or go away”

When Donchad announced the night before he planned to leave that he was going with Culad to the meeting with Sigtryg, Nuala was not too happy. Donchad tried his best to be encouraging, “You can come with us again.” he coaxed, tilting her chin up so she had to look at him, “You’d like that.”
“You’re knowing as well as I, I’m in no fit state to travel.”
“I’ll only be gone a week or two, that’s none so bad now, is it?”
“I’m scared, Donchad. It shouldn’t be as bad as this, I shouldn’t be this ill.”
“You’ll be fine, nothing’ll go wrong.” he soothed. Fury sparked in Nuala’s eyes, “That’s what you said to get us into this mess”
“Er…” Donchad rubbed the back of his head; making is already untidy hair look like a windswept hedgehog, “Well…when destiny calls we mere mortals can’t quibble, and if we’re destined a child now there’s not much I can be doing.”
“That is a terrible excuse You only just made that up to hide that this is all your fault” Nuala anger soon died, and she wilted back into foreboding gloom, “If you leave then I’ll be stuck here on my own, worrying and feeling worse by the day.”
“I’ve got to go, Culad might need me.”
“I need you.”
“You’ll not even notice I’m gone, you’ll be too busy gossiping with those new maids of yours.”
“All they ever do is talk about difficult births and how many ways you can die before the baby is even a week old. They’ve got some kind of competition going, who can tell the worst story.”
“I’m told these problems run in the family, and your mother died safely of a fever so you’ve no need to worry.”
“A fever two days after I was born, and I’ll not be giving prizes for guessing how she got it” Donchad’s encouraging smile wavered slightly, “Well there you are then – you’re quite safe because…er, she beat you to it, and they’re saying it only happens once every two generations.”
“Tell that to my grandmother.” Nuala wobbled slightly, and Donchad caught her with practised ease as she fainted. He sighed with something akin to aggravation, “Oh, not again”





Shorter than I planned, it also took longer to write than I expected. I'm not happy with that Donchad/Nuala scene - I could think of a really good scene last night when I couldn't write it down, and now I can't remember it at all. It was really explosive, and it showed off their characters very well. Oh well, I managed to gett he same information into this not bad version here, but I can't help but feel the original forgotten version was better. I bet I'll remember what I wanted to write at 2AM tomorrow morning http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-confused.gif

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 17 2004,19:34)]“I’m scared, Donchad. It shouldn’t be as bad as this, I shouldn’t be this ill.”
The omens HE will be born in Ulster....

[frogbeastegg]

Quote[/b] (Axeknight @ May 17 2004,18:41)]
Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 17 2004,19:34)]“I’m scared, Donchad. It shouldn’t be as bad as this, I shouldn’t be this ill.”
The omens HE will be born in Ulster....
Omens...I half remember the reference. That demon child from some horror movie?

Lol, the line is so corny you could make sandwiches out of it, originally she said something far better but that was at 11:30 PM last night and I didn't write it down.

That's another froggy response within half an hour, for anyone wondering about my psychic powers I subscribed to this topic with email notification. Every time someone posts here I get a message, since I usually leave the PC on for hours at a time even if I'm busy elsewhere I get to know about replies pretty quickly.

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 17 2004,20:00)]Omens...I half remember the reference. That demon child from some horror movie?
Damien - The Omen

The kid with a 666 on his neck

I don't mind the line, actually, it may seem slightly corny but it's nothing major.

[Ludens]

That catfight scene was great http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif .

As for Nuala: if Dunsleive hasn't got an heir, Donchad will inherit his property (unless he's got more brothers you haven't told us off). So if Dunsleive dies, Nuala can throw Fionnghualla out. Nuala is already trying to outrank Fionnghualla and it gives Fionnghualla a motive for poisoning Nuala.

[frogbeastegg]

The hot summer sun beat down on the empty field just outside the village of Ferta Nime. Culad loosened the collar of his fine wool tunic, wishing his finest clothes weren’t so hot. Margaret tutted, and set about neatening him up again, “You’re supposed to look your best, you can’t go and show off your ducal powers and create an awe inspiring impression if you look like you’ve been upended in a hedge.”
“Remind me to buy some cooler fancy clothes, if I’m to be showing off all summer I’m going to die of heat dressed in this.” Margaret stood back and inspected her husband. Over a fine white linen shirt he wore a red woollen tunic with large bands of embroidery about the cuffs, neck and hem. The tunic was a different cut to Culad’s usual choice, reaching down to the middle of his shins, with wide sleeves that came to just below the elbows in the latest fashion. Tight fitting brown hose, also the latest thing, a richly decorated belt with matching dagger, and a pair of new shoes finished the effect. He looked every inch the duke, albeit a fed up duke in clothing he didn’t feel comfortable in. Apparently satisfied with the overall effect Margaret turned away to pick up the dark red cloak draped over a seat nearby. Culad’s hand went to his collar again, without even looking Margaret snapped, “Don’t even think about it”
Culad’s hand dropped back to his side, “I’m boiling, and you’re heartless.”
“Would you rather go in full armour? I can arrange that, if you prefer. Then you’ll have reason for complaint.” replied Margaret sweetly, as she flung the cloak about Culad’s shoulders and fastened the brooch, “Before you go, did you ever change the inheritance laws away from elective?”
“No, I’d not got round to it. Salic Consanguinity would suit, I’m thinking.”
“Semi Salic Consanguinity, we’re not ignoring half our family.”
“Why’re you mentioning this now?” Culad’s eyes went wide, “You don’t mean…?”
“Yes, congratulations Daddy. You’d better not do anything stupid with our children’s inheritance. Now off you go, go brow beat Sigtryg into behaving.” Margaret turned her stunned husband around and gave him a push towards the centre of the field where two chairs were set opposite each other. Culad started walking automatically, and on the other side of the field a figure in dark blue left his group of followers, heading towards the meeting place.

The two men met in the centre of the field, both tensed with suspicion, like a pair of unfamiliar dogs deciding whether to fight or not. The pose was held for a heartbeat, then Sigtryg flashed an easy grin, “So, at last the two dukes of Ulster meet. Nice to see you again, Culad.”
“There’s only one duke of Ulster; I have that title.”
“And I’ve a claim to it, there’s no reason to get snotty just because you’re holding the fancy seal.” Sigtryg sat in the closest chair, lounging back and hooking his thumbs through his belt. Culad bristled at his count’s lack of respect. Sigtryg waved at the other chair, “Either sit down and be comfortable, or stand and keep oozing muscular, trained warrior style threat – I’ve no care which, for I’m not here to fight and I’m plenty happy sat here.” As his liege stiffly sat down Sigtryg reminisced, “Now that was always your trouble, standing on ceremony needlessly. Always showing off, you were, aye, posing like just now when it’s neither use nor ornament to a man. No, I tell a lie, for it’s very handy to be attracting the ladies all the time, but none so good when talking to your vassals. Speaking of ladies, how’s your wife?”
“Fine.” ground out Culad.
Sigtryg sorrowfully shook his head, “Fine, and that’s the best you can be doing? I’d have thought more, I’m hearing plenty about the pair of you, and from that rocky start you’re doing grand.”
“I didn’t come here to talk of Margaret, and nor did you.”
“No? No, I’m supposing not. I was merely thinking of old times, and anyhow you’ve not asked me about my wife and unborn child yet.”
Culad’s mouth twisted, as though he had eaten something sour, “How are they?”
“Thank you kindly for your asking, my child is dead and Brigida’s only just recovering.” Sigtryg smiled bitterly at the surprise on Culad’s face, “Oh aye, that sickness was no lie to gain time. I’d thought your wife would have told you that.”
“She confirmed that Brigida was ill, but she didn’t go into detail.” Culad swallowed hard, and said awkwardly, “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll take that at face value then, for you’d have meant that once. Now perhaps you’re seeing why I’m not wanting to stand on ceremony and get to the point too fast – you’re going to ask a request I’ll have to refuse, and that’ll be it. I’m none so keen on leaving Brigida now, so this’d best be worthwhile, and a minute of talk isn’t worth the trip.” When Culad said nothing Sigtryg chuckled, “You’re my enemy and you’re the only one not advising me to kill her if she miscarries again, you know all others are horrified when I say I’ll not be doing that. They go on about heirs of my blood, and when I point out bastards are my blood too they go all strange They all talk to me of love – ha The damn fools keep telling me my ‘love’ for Brigida mustn’t influence my decisions, I barely even like the woman – can you believe the bare faced cheek of those fools? What they’re not understanding is that she’s family now, and family’s sacred. All others are nothing, but family, blood is all.”
“There was a time when you said I was practically family.”
“Ah, well the key there’s the word practically. If you’d not got overly ambitious there’d have been no problem, but when you got your head rammed up your own backside you forced my hand to rebellion. A shame, really, we’d have made Dublin squeal between us.”
“I asked for nothing more than my due, and what was already mine and only loaned to you.”
“You tried to take my lands and cut me out of the inheritance All for greed too, wanting to rule all yourself with no vassals.”
“I offered you fair compensation, and new place in my court right at my side. You’d have been displaced from the inheritance the moment I had a son – we both knew that.”
“There’d been some honour in that, some dignity, but no, you had to strip me of my title like I’d been caught thieving.”
“It’s no more than I’d have done when my son was born.”
“Sweet Jesus If you were still a boy I’d clonk you for that lie – we’d have gone and conquered some more land for your son to hold, that’s what we’d have done Hell, we’d even chosen out Mide as our target, remember? All those years I tutored you to think, to use cunning rather than a sword, you’ve no gratitude and the lesson’s half lost now.”
“I offered to make you chancellor, you broke with me, not the other way around.”
“Chancellor, bah Am I a fat old man who likes playing with cakes? That title leaves a rancid taste in my mouth. You failed your test, boy - if you’d paid any heed to my words you’d have either had me killed or left me to my lands and gone after the duchy of Dublin, rather than posturing at me.” The two men glared at each other, Culad looked away first, something that gave Sigtryg no pleasure. He twisted in his seat slightly, looking past Culad to the group of his followers off in the distance. Squinting slightly Sigtryg spotted Margaret, a hint of a smile played on his lips, “Well at least you got one thing right, Culad, you beat me to her. I was cursing you for it, but I was proud too. A fine match for you, and a good move for your cause.” Culad mumbled something non-committal, and Sigtryg settled back in his seat again, “So when’s your child due?”
“What?” Culad couldn’t hide his surprise, much to Sigtryg’s amusement. The count elaborated, “It’s obvious to one who knows you well – your face lights up every time I mention your heir.”
Culad did some quick calculations, “March, sometime around March. I only just found out.” he couldn’t smoother the proud smile that rushed to his face.
Sigtryg rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “How if we sign peace until April of next year? You’ll be asking for my title and seals to be surrendered again today, and I’ll be refusing again, then it’s back to war. Family is everything, and you’ve got one to take care of now, and so have I…in a different way, perhaps. Now you’ll be saying that’s no reason for peace, so I’ll show you the obvious and let you think of that as my reasoning. Neither of us are in a position to fight again so soon, drained coffers, lost men, a need to reorganise back home – war now’d be an end to us both, the vultures would come swooping in to pick up a weakened Ulster.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“You’ll examine this from every angle, looking for advantages to us both, just as I taught you. Good.” There was a hint of pride in Sigtryg’s voice, “Now speaking of taught, how’s Donchad? I heard he got married, as recklessly as ever. It’s not suit him to things quietly for once, I gave up on trying to cure him of his inclination to leap, then look.”
“He’s fine, you can speak to him yourself if you want later.”
“I’d like that – it’s hard to get a good word in the midst of battle, he may have been an unofficial part time pupil at best, but I think I thought him more about cunning than I ever expected.”
Culad stood up, “I’ll be going back now, I’ll send a messenger over to you about Donchad, and your proposal.”
“Aye, good enough. If you’ll not be minding I do have one last request…” Culad said nothing, so Sigtryg continued, “I’d like to meet your wife, see who I nearly managed to marry, see who stole the heart of my old friends only son.”
“I’ll ask her.” replied Culad coolly.






That breeze that hit the field as Margaret said congratulations Daddy was a frog breathing a sigh of relief. Well, to be honest I found out on the 28th June in the game, not the end of July as written here, but the game tells you the moment conception takes place for some crazy reason. Now to begin praying for a son, and that nothing goes wrong...

Nice reasoning, Ludens. Donchad and Dunsleive are the only two brothers, the last two survivors of their particular line. To be honest :mumbles embarassedly: I hadn't thought of that. My reasoning was that Fionnghualla is after Nuala because of her little outburst, which was provoked by several things. Firstly the fact she really is suffering here with a pregnancy she doesn't want, and she's terrifed she is going to die. Secondly Nuala is somewhat ambitious, and wants to live in style, she is also really bad with money. Thirdly squeezing Donchad for gifts is a way to get even with him and take her mind off things http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-devilish.gif

Of course that is just now, the future...

[Ludens]

I am very glad to hear that my guess was tolerable. Given my recent record at guessing I was thinking of taking on the title of 'Failed Clairvoyant' or some such thing http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif .

But what was Culad planning to do on his meeting with Sigtryg? Because the only thing he does is passively responding to Sigtryg's remarks and then argue who was to blame for the break up. A good way to introduce the past, but it makes it seem like Culad wasn't prepared at all.
And what is semi salic consanguinity?

[frogbeastegg]

Sigtryg:
Quote[/b] ]you’re going to ask a request I’ll have to refuse, and that’ll be it.
Later he says:
Quote[/b] ]You’ll be asking for my title and seals to be surrendered again today, and I’ll be refusing again, then it’s back to war

Culad got so badly out manoeuvred by Sigtryg that he ended up spending the day chatting politely, rather than asserting his lordly powers and demanding his vassal submit.

It is rather lame as plot devices go, but would you rather read a 2 year siege of a hill fort? The game has some very screwed up timings, that entire war against Aed was actually one pitched battle lasting for a week (), then more than 8 months of besieging one hill fort. I embellish a heck of a lot, for one small there are no miscarriages in the game. In many ways this story has only minimal resemblance to the game I played. Names, big events like wars starting and ending, character traits that are mentioned specifically (Culad the Lusty, Fionnghualla the kinslayer etc) and that's about it. The rest is my own doing. Given more time to think and play around with ideas I would come up with something better, but I am trying to keep up a good pace, and right now I have my eyes on a future that gets very complicated for a frog to write...

Semi Salic Consanguinity is a kind of inheritance law, I meant to stick an explanation in the notes but I forgot http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/rolleyes.gif

Ahem, in game terms, taken from the manual: All titles go to the strongest child, or if dead to his eldest brother, and so on. If no children can provide an heir then the strongest grandchild inherits and so on. Note that this allows a woman to trace inheritance, though a female may never inherit, but only pass on it on to a male (her sons). Strength depends on military attribute, prestige, and ownership of provinces.

In real life terms:
Semi (whatever) means that if the male line is extinct then the females will inherit themselves, for example Culad has a son and a daughter, if the son dies the daughter will become duchess in her own right. This is not modelled in the game, to my immense disapointment.

Salic refers to bloodlines - family by birth.

Consanguinity refers to relationships between people via blood. If you marry your cousin you marry within consanguinity, or too close to your own blood to avoid accusations of inbreeding. Consanguineous marriages did take place; you just had to arrange special permission from the Pope.

So basically inheritance by family, including the female line when there are no surviving males. You can start with the eldest son if you like, but there is no set order so far as I know - you can pick whichever son you like best.

[The Wizard]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 19 2004,18:34)]Sigtryg:
Quote[/b] ]you’re going to ask a request I’ll have to refuse, and that’ll be it.
Later he says:
Quote[/b] ]You’ll be asking for my title and seals to be surrendered again today, and I’ll be refusing again, then it’s back to war

Culad got so badly out manoeuvred by Sigtryg that he ended up spending the day chatting politely, rather than asserting his lordly powers and demanding his vassal submit.

It is rather lame as plot devices go, but would you rather read a 2 year siege of a hill fort? The game has some very screwed up timings, that entire war against Aed was actually one pitched battle lasting for a week (), then more than 8 months of besieging one hill fort. I embellish a heck of a lot, for one small there are no miscarriages in the game. In many ways this story has only minimal resemblance to the game I played. Names, big events like wars starting and ending, character traits that are mentioned specifically (Culad the Lusty, Fionnghualla the kinslayer etc) and that's about it. The rest is my own doing. Given more time to think and play around with ideas I would come up with something better, but I am trying to keep up a good pace, and right now I have my eyes on a future that gets very complicated for a frog to write...

Semi Salic Consanguinity is a kind of inheritance law, I meant to stick an explanation in the notes but I forgot http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/rolleyes.gif

Ahem, in game terms, taken from the manual: All titles go to the strongest child, or if dead to his eldest brother, and so on. If no children can provide an heir then the strongest grandchild inherits and so on. Note that this allows a woman to trace inheritance, though a female may never inherit, but only pass on it on to a male (her sons). Strength depends on military attribute, prestige, and ownership of provinces.

In real life terms:
Semi (whatever) means that if the male line is extinct then the females will inherit themselves, for example Culad has a son and a daughter, if the son dies the daughter will become duchess in her own right. This is not modelled in the game, to my immense disapointment.

Salic refers to bloodlines - family by birth.

Consanguinity refers to relationships between people via blood. If you marry your cousin you marry within consanguinity, or too close to your own blood to avoid accusations of inbreeding. Consanguineous marriages did take place; you just had to arrange special permission from the Pope.

So basically inheritance by family, including the female line when there are no surviving males. You can start with the eldest son if you like, but there is no set order so far as I know - you can pick whichever son you like best.
Froggy, you may be the author of this chapter, but when I read it I didn't see it as Culad being out-manouevred. All I saw was Sigtryg ranting to Culad about this and that, and then talking about not wanting to relinquish his titles.

Even so, big deal. Why don't you (Culad) just crush the damn guy? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif



~Wiz

[frogbeastegg]

Quote[/b] (The Wizard @ May 19 2004,19:02)]Froggy, you may be the author of this chapter, but when I read it I didn't see it as Culad being out-manouevred. All I saw was Sigtryg ranting to Culad about this and that, and then talking about not wanting to relinquish his titles.

Even so, big deal. Why don't you (Culad) just crush the damn guy? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif



~Wiz
I would crush him if I could, but I really need that victory to take place at the same time as it did in the game, you will understand why the timing is so critical later. Damn game, it took forever to beseige anything with my tiny Irish armies Immensely tedious, if I had twice as many men I would have defeated my rebels inside of a year, not the 2 1/2 it took.

Ok, so this scene does not work then. Curses, that means the follow up is not going to work either. Gah What to do, what to do...

Suggestions? You want a rewrite, or shall I just get on with things?

I could try a rewrite to make it clearer, maybe. Or I could just step over this whole mess and keep going, leaving the clean up to my later refinement of this story into something more detailed and readable.

I think I will now sever all links with the game, barring two events in the future that really stand out as incredible material for story telling. The siege and the other, both on the same day, they were so...strong with potential that I decided to write this whole thing just for those two events. I will now write this as a decent yarn, with the occasional name, birth etc stolen from the game. What was originally an inspiration has now become chains holding me back.

[Ludens]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 19 2004,20:19)]Suggestions? You want a rewrite, or shall I just get on with things?

I could try a rewrite to make it clearer, maybe. Or I could just step over this whole mess and keep going, leaving the clean up to my later refinement of this story into something more detailed and readable.
If you are going to rewrite it, you need to make Culad more active because now he is only responding to what Sigtryg said. He has plenty of time to take the initiative before Sigtryg said he wouldn't accept Culad's proposal. And if Culad was already unbalanced by Sigtryg not wanting to accept him as duke, then what did Culad expect?

BTW, it is rather unspymaster-like of Margaret to tell Culad that he will become a father, just before he has an important meeting. It seems like Margaret wants to unbalance him too.

So yes: I think it needs a rewrite.

[frogbeastegg]

...

...

...

Ok, I will do what I wanted to do in the first place. I didn't use this idea for their meeting because the game won't allow it, but so what? Because this started out as a so called AAR I had to keep it recogniseable to the game, now I will enact my plan to write this again as a real story, free of game related constraints. The more I think about it the more I can change, barring that final battle and the other event. However the final battle merely needs two specific characters, a couple of armies, and a fort. I can alter the place quite easily, if I ignore the game totally.

It is not very spymaster like of Margaret, but it is very Margaret like of her http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-grin.gif Tweaking...

Forget any of this exists from Nuala's last fainting fit, that includes the characterisation of Sigtryg in a friendly mood.

[frogbeastegg]

The early morning light was just growing strong enough to be called daytime, rather than dawn as Culad put the finishing touches to his dress. Over a fine white linen shirt he wore a red woollen tunic with large bands of embroidery about the cuffs, neck and hem. The tunic was a different cut to Culad’s usual choice, reaching down to the middle of his shins, with wide sleeves that came to just below the elbows in the latest fashion. Tight fitting brown hose, also the latest thing, a richly decorated belt with matching dagger, and a pair of new shoes finished the basic effect. Margaret handed her husband his best sword, with the red hand of Ulster enamelled on the pommel and fancy, jewel covered sheath and belt. Culad fastened the belt about his waist, and settled the sword comfortably on his hip, before Margaret flung his dark red cloak about his shoulders and fastened it at his neck with a gold broach. The final item was the most important for today’s show - the ring with his ducal seal cut deep into the gemstone. Margaret stepped back to admire the effect, Culad looked every inch the duke he was, until he tugged at his collar, loosening it, “I feel like some blasted poncy Norman baron, an overly hot poncy baron who hasn’t the sense not to wear heavy wool in the midst of summer.” Neatening Culad’s collar again Margaret said sweetly, “Would you rather go in full armour? I can arrange that, if you prefer. Then you’ll have reason for complaint.”
“You’re heartless” accused Culad.
“I try.” retorted Margaret, “Now you’re sure you’re clear on all that information I gave you?”
“Yes, just the same as the last three times you asked this morning.”
“If I don’t ask continuously you’ll forget some important detail, so you’re certain you know everything you need?”
“Yes”
“See? Overconfident – you don’t know everything. There is one final piece of information you need, although this one is more for your reference than for blabbing about where all and sundry can hear. Congratulations, daddy.”
Culad made a strange noise that sounded rather like “Urk”, and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.
Margaret’s smile grew, “So don’t do anything daft with our future headache’s inheritance today.”

Midmorning; the hot summer sun beat down on the empty field just outside the village of Ferta Nime. Culad had made certain he arrived before Sigtryg, and he sat waiting in one of the two chairs placed out of earshot of the spectators in the centre of the field. Sigtryg arrived at the agreed time, if he was fazed by Culad’s early arrival he didn’t show it. Instead he flashed an easy grin, “So, at last the two dukes of Ulster meet. Nice to see you again, Culad.”
Culad held up his left hand, displaying his signet ring, “There’s only one duke of Ulster; I have that title.”
“And I’ve a claim to it, so there’s no reason to get snotty just because you’re holding the fancy seal.”
Sigtryg sat in the empty chair, lounging back and hooking his thumbs through his belt, “I see you’re still keen on showing off needlessly, staying sat like my superior instead of rising to greet me like an equal. I care not.”
“I never thought for the barest moment that you would, I was thinking more for the eager crowd watching at a distance.”
“Yes, that’s so and I’m thinking of their presence also. They’ve just seen you insult me, and then when you’re revoking my title again they’ll be seeing a man badly treated by his liege and doing the only thing he can. You’ve hung yourself, Culad.”
“From a distance they’ll not know what we say, and since I’m the duke and you’re the count I stay seated. Protocol, no more, no less.”
“Oh, true, very true but they’ll see me jump up and start shouting on about how you do me grave and unfair insult, and they’ll see you sat about like a would be king, dressed like some Norman fop, and I think they’ll be believing.” Culad bowed his head, beaten.
Sigtryg smirked, “And so once again you prove you learned nothing much from all those years I spent as your tutor. Ah well, a good thing for me, if not overly gratifying to my self-esteem. So I’m keeping my title, you try to keep yours, and for now let’s catch up. How’s Margaret?”
“Fine.” ground out Culad.
Sigtryg sorrowfully shook his head, “Fine, and that’s the best you can be doing? I’d have thought more, I’m hearing plenty about the pair of you, and from that rocky start you’re doing grand.” Culad said nothing, Sigtryg pursued the point, “I’d asked for her myself, you know? You snatched her right from my grasp, another day and she’d have been signed and sealed as my intended. You only got her because the Bastard in England wanted the best prestige from his new Irish connection, and a duke’s worth more than a mere count. I was as proud of you as I was furious – that was a worthy move you played.” When Culad still said nothing Sigtryg shrugged his shoulders and nonchalantly, “Of course when she’s a widow William the Bastard’ll be eager to marry her off again, so I think I’ll be applying again. Not for me, you understand, pretty young widows with no lands attached are far more fun when you’re not paying for a wedding yourself. Then there’s the small fact I’m already married, even if it is to that eternal second place called Brigida – you know I barely even like the woman, see what you’ve stuck me with for life? I’d thought my cousin up from the country might like a Saxon bride, my cousin Seoán, the uneducated country bumpkin who speaks with a yokel dialect so think even I can barely understand him.” Culad kept his peace, Sigtryg outlined the obvious end of his plan, still trying to get a rise out of him, “Of course my cousin’s a nice cooperative sort who’ll not mind if I console his poor, beautiful young wife on her ill fortune…”
Culad just laughed, “Stop talking from your rear end – the English king’d never hand off the last remaining daughter of the old Atheling royal line to a country cousin of a mere count. And you’d not be doing any consoling, cousin willing or no, because that’d go against those ideals of family you’ve got – she’d be safer in your court than in a nunnery. If you’re hoping to make me lose my temper and start bawling in front of our audience you’ll be disappointed.”
“You’re right.” acknowledged Sigtryg, inclining his head with a touch of respect, “But at last you said something, for I was thinking I was talking to a stone dressed as a man. Now you’ve not yet asked about my own family, that’s poor manners, Culad.”
Culad’s mouth twisted, as though he had eaten something sour, “How are they?”
“Thank you kindly for your asking, my child is dead and Brigida’s only just recovering.” Sigtryg smiled bitterly at the surprise on Culad’s face, “Oh aye, that sickness was no lie to gain time. I’d thought your wife would have told you that.”
“She confirmed that Brigida was ill, but she didn’t go into detail.” Culad swallowed hard, and said awkwardly, “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll take that at face value then, for you’d have meant that once. When Culad made no reply Sigtryg chuckled, “You’re my enemy and you’re the only one not advising me to kill her if she miscarries again, you know all others are horrified when I say I’ll not be doing that. They go on about heirs of my blood, and when I point out bastards are my blood too they go all strange They all talk to me of love – ha The damn halfwits keep telling me my ‘love’ for Brigida mustn’t influence my decisions – can you believe the bare faced cheek of those fools? What they’re not understanding is that she’s family now, and family’s sacred. All others are nothing, but family, blood is all.”
“There was a time when you said I was practically family.”
“Ah, well the key there’s the word practically. If you’d not got overly ambitious there’d have been no problem, but when you got your head rammed up your own backside you forced my hand to rebellion. A shame, really, we’d have made Dublin squeal between us.”
“I’ll still do that, when I’ve finished you I’ll have men and resources enough to take on Dublin.”
“Oh really?” Sigtryg clearly didn’t believe.
“I can muster some 600 odd men from my two provinces, against your 300. When I crush you I’ll be able to levy from three provinces, while Dublin only has the two.”
“Overconfident, relying on brute strength, blind to what really matters – you’re no different to when you were a boy All those wasted years spent trying to teach you to think, ye Gods what a waste Conchbar’s a famous general, your match and far more Numbers matter far less than brains, for you’ll not have more than two to one in numbers, and that’s narrow indeed.”
“Brute force, a phrase you’re so fond of in connection to me. I’m thinking you misjudge.” said Culad evenly.
Sigtryg snorted, “Not even a bit”
“Le me prove you wrong; I’m saying you’ll be my vassal again before you leave this field.”
“And I’ll say your brains are curdled.”
“So how about I say you go down on bended knee and kiss my ring, or I have Brigida killed? Delicate enough for you?”
“Pathetic You’ll not manage to get near her now I’m alert, so your threat’s empty, and even if you succeed you’d be the one blamed by the world so I’d only gain more reason to kill you.”
“Oh no, you misunderstand. Your court tells you to kill her; the world would see a husband removing a useless wife – you’d be blamed, not I.”
“It’s well known I’d never hurt family.”
“How if it’s also known a small vial of hyssop was found in her rooms, half empty?”
“There’s no such vial, stop wasting my time with nonsense.”
“There will be, I can promise you there will be, it’s all nicely arranged as Margaret did tell me the detail of that illness. Now you know what that’ll do to people’s minds, your wife found dead, a half empty vial of a well known abortant and a recent miscarriage…”
“Only mindless fool’d believe I’d kill her for that, she’s family regardless.”
“But in the end who’s more family, the wife or the child? The child is blood, and that boosts the connection ever so slightly. And see, it only gets more complicated from here – what if it were rumoured Brigida was still seeing her old intended? A handsome young red haired man, quite different to the aging, dark haired count, and all’d agree on that. You’ll admit you’ve been away from home for a long time, and you’ll admit it was well known that Brigida and Niall were well matched and close before you jumped in and snatched her. How if it were feared that baby would have flame red hair, born to two dark haired parents? Connect the dots, Sigtryg - wronged husband, his court urging action, lost baby, frantic wife trying to hide her guilt, family man finding such terrible deception, dead wife. Tell me who looks so guilty now?”
“Smart enough, but not quite sufficient to force my hand.”
“Ah, but think on some more, for you’d be openly called kinslayer and your whole family would hate and fear you, aye, and your subjects too. Then there’d be Niall, mourning his lost sweetheart a second time, wanting vengeance for all you’d done, or perhaps he too could have an accident and die, and again the finger points to you. Not to forget her family, they’d not be too happy at your heavy-handed justice, and I’m doubting they’d blame her for her end, as they weren’t wanting her married to you in the first place. Loyalty would plummet; you’d be risking rebellion.”
“Troublesome I’ll admit, but you’d never manage to kill Brigida now I’m alerted. I’ll be rushing a messenger back home with orders to keep her under close guard.”
“What’s faster – horse or bird? Which is easiest to arrange - dagger stroke or bodyguard for a wife who’ll suspect she’s being slighted? Who can move quickest – the one who is already in position, or the one running to catch up? All I have to do is wave towards Margaret and Brigida is as good as dead by nightfall, you at least have to make a message and order it onwards. Think carefully.”
“So…you finally understand that one death, the right death, can topple a count as well as an army. I suppose I am proud, you even picked the location so many people’d see you as the forgiving lord bringing his errant sheep back to the fold.” Sigtryg went down on one knee and kissed the ring on Culad’s outstretched hand, declaring to the whole field that he was Culad’s vassal again, and paying him the customary homage.





Forcing Sigtryg back to being a vassal, my original idea, but impossible in the game. Of course we all know he will break free again as soon as he can...

Now I am in the troublesome position of having a lot of time to cover where nothing much happens. I'll add the vital scenes, and try to fit in the occasional brief 'nothing' scene, but for now time is skipping forwards months at a time, only to halt for a week or two, before jumping foward again.

EDIT: I forgot to ask if that is any better than the original, d'oh

[The Wizard]

The conversation started a bit dissapointing, but that's just because I was rooting for Culad and he let me down - the rest of the chapter was qualitay http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/cheers.gif



~Wiz

[frogbeastegg]

30th November 1066.
“No agitation.” repeated Donchad to himself, bracing himself to open to door to his wife’s bedchamber, “No agitation, that’s what the midwife ordered. No agitation, so don’t say anything to upset her.” He took a deep breath to steel himself, pasted a happy smile on his face and opened the door. “Nuala? How are you? Alright?” The still figure in the bed didn’t move or answer. Donchad quietly closed the door and went to sit next to her, “They wouldn’t let me in before, said you were close enough to death’s door without having me to rant at. Can you believe they made we wait nearly a day to see you?” Still no response, Donchad’s smile wavered but he tried again, “Have you seen our daughter? She’s a beauty, just like her mother.”
Nuala responded in a voice gone hoarse from screaming, “She looks like any other baby. Ugly.”
“Not to me.” protested Donchad softly, “I thought we’d name her DubEssa.”
“Call her want you want, I don’t care.”
“You don’t mean that.”
Nuala closed her eyes, “Yes I do.”
“Then DubEssa she’ll be. You can choose the name for the next child-”
“There won’t be a next.” insisted Nuala flatly. She mustered an exhausted smile at the confused expression on Donchad’s face, and elaborated wearily, “Didn’t they tell you? No, I suppose not – this birth nearly killed me, the next probably will, so that’s it. Nice to have the experts agree with me, for I’d say no more regardless of their concerns.”
“But you…”
“Oh yes, I can still conceive, probably as infuriatingly easily as last time, but now I’m not so naive to fall for you nice line about accidents not happening. And don’t even think of trying to quote law at me, I know you too well to believe that either.”
“So you’re saying you’ll never consent to sleep with me again? You can’t want that”
“No. But it’s better than ending up like this again, or worse. No more children, Donchad.”

Two men amongst the early December crowd in the tavern stood out, perhaps because they tried so hard to blend in. They both ordered a tankard of ale, and made their way through the mass of peasants and tradesmen to an empty table. Culad scratched at his rough wool tunic, “Now why couldn’t you pick a nice place to go drinking? I’m none so happy dressed like a ploughman.” Donchad drained half his tankard in one go, saying nothing. Culad inspected the cloudy ale in his own mug, and carefully set it aside, “So how’s the family?”
Pride radiated off Donchad, “Little DubEssa’s doing grand She’s got great big brown eyes, and I’m thinking her hair’s going to be a deep brown to match. She’s got a fine-looking smile, and I’m already seeing a future with me chasing off good for nothing louts who’re following her about.” he frowned and started playing with his drink, swirling the liquid around in his tankard, “Nuala…well, that’s why I dragged you here.”
“She’s no better?”
“She’s slowly getting stronger, but since she’s still confined to her rooms waiting for her churching there’s not much she can do. Er, that’s not the problem.” Donchad leaned close to his cousin and dropped his voice to a near whisper, “She’s not wanting any more children.”
Culad shrugged his shoulders, “So? Where’s the problem?”
“What do you mean, where’s the problem?” shouted Donchad. The tavern hushed, and everyone turned to stare. Blushing furiously Donchad finished the rest of his drink and waited until the hubbub picked up again before hissing, “I thought you of all men might understand the problem”
“I still see no real problem, if you want more brats tugging on your tunic hem and asking for expensive ponies to ride just father a few bastards with a willing wench or two.”
“Yes, fine and all very well, but what about Nuala and me?”
Again Culad shrugged, “What about you? I see no problem. She has no more pregnancies so she’s happy, and you get your large family elsewhere, so you’re happy.”
“Heaven’s above man, I’d say you were dense as a rock if I didn’t you better Even a monk’d see the problem She’s booted me out in the cold.”
“Now why’d she do that?”
Donchad ground his teeth in mortified exasperation, “Because she doesn’t want any more children, have you listened to a word I said?”
Culad patiently began to explain, “Look, Donchad, there are ways-”
“Yes, well I’d have thought you’d understand that too – I’m not interested in setting up siege outside her door or similar.”
“Shut and listen, will you?” Culad wondered where to start, “You remember the only time you convinced me to go to a brothel, back when we were young and a deal less experienced? Well I learned a thing or two, and I thought you did to.”
“Yes, plenty but I don’t see the relevance”
“Oh Dear Lord, your mind is full of filth and no sense Such an opportunity gone to waste, access to knowledge never granted to us nobles but vital to the poorer classes – and the only real reason I let you convince me to visit such a low class dive when I could have my pick of the nobility. Did you never think to ask, for future reference, how they managed to keep from ending up with a bunch of children under their feet?” Donchad’s blank stare answered that question. Culad picked his drink up, almost took a mouthful before reconsidering and pressing the tankard into Donchad’s hands. Culad cracked his knuckles, “Did you never wonder how I avoided a bastard? Well let me explain to you the wonders of a certain common plant called pennyroyal…”







Yes, before anyone asks pennyroyal and hyssop from the previous episode were known, used in the middle ages. Pennyroyal acts rather like the morning after pill, but without the extra period. Both kill if you use too much, and they aren't as reliable as modern drugs but they have surprised those research scientists who have looked into them with just how reliable they are.

Now Donchad has the heir problem http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-grin.gif

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 21 2004,12:27)]Now Donchad has the heir problem http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-grin.gif
It seems we have Culad the Incompetant (or at least 'the Rumoured Incompetant'), and Donchad the Overcompetant... http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-inquisitive.gif

[frogbeastegg]

19th January 1067
For once Fionna wished Sigtryg had decided to meet her in front of his court. Ever since his meeting with Culad the count had been unpredictable and touchy. A late night meeting with the lone count did not bode well, one misstep and he’d erupt again, and this time there would be no one else to point his spleen at. The count sat at the table in his council chamber, appearing to be in good temper, “It’s time to be a bit more active, I’m thinking.” Sigtryg spoke so lightly he might have been discussing taking a more active line in cooking his dinner, “We’ll be schooling Culad in why I always insisted you stay single, Fionna. Outline those reasons for me again, to show you’ve not forgot.”
“Not this pointless exercise again, we both know your logic.” The spymaster didn’t try to hide her exasperation, knowing the storm was, once again, inevitable.
Honey dripped off Sigtryg’s words, “Ah, but Fionna, dearest Fionna, if we’re both knowing why am I getting proposals from suitors still?”
“I can’t help that.”
“No, but you see I’m thinking you can, just a little. Kindly repeat again why I refuse to give you away.”
Fionna recited the reasons in the blank, expressionless tone of someone who has learned a speech by rote, “Because with marriage comes the duty to have children, and you don’t want a spymaster who is confined to her rooms for roughly two months prior to the birth, and 40 days after, as it leaves a big gap in the network and prevents her doing her job properly.”
“Yes, just so, as Culad will soon find to his cost. We have 3 months to pick away at him, so where’ll we start?” Fionna said nothing, fuming silently. Sigtryg braced his hands on the table and leaned forward, “Really? Now what a fine target that is – if you’re so lacking inspiration I’ll replace you”
“Culad, Margaret herself, Donchad, any of the council, they’re all valid targets.”
“Better. Culad, well he’s last on my list since I’m wanting to show that arrogant little wretch who plays this game better. Margaret, excellent choice and one that’ll hurt, but I’ve different plans for her. Dead she’ll upset Culad, but kidnapped and held safely here as a hostage she’ll really drive him insane…but I think that’ll wait a while, it’d be more effective to use her as the penultimate move. Donchad, I owe him a small head wound…yes, not bad.”
“He’s travelling to his new manor soon, with his family and servants.”
“How handily convenient for us, I don’t care how you do it, but I don’t want him to arrive. Something subtle, very subtle – no arrows in the back or similar. I want Culad to know who did this, and that I’m able to outdo him any day of the week.” Fionna bobbed a very shallow curtsy and turned to go. “One moment.” Sigtryg softly, though there was no doubt this was velvet coated steel, “I appreciate you pick up most of these suitors in my service, I’m knowing you even like some of them, but I’m trying to usurp a title and crush Culad here, and constant offers from the assorted hopefuls that you’ve been busy toying with waste my time I don’t care how you do it, but discourage them from even thinking of asking to marry you, or I’ll be exiling every single one of them God above, toying with someone is supposed to mean just that – you’re supposed to get them so enamoured they spill a few details at an guarded moment, not overdo it so they come running hotfoot to me asking if they can keep you You’re entirely too successful at your work, and I’ll not put up with it” Sigtryg was slowly turning purple, to the great delight of his fed up spymaster. Putting on her most contrite face Fionna said, “I’m so sorry, I’ll be sure to be less successful at my work in the future.” She left while Sigtryg was still chewing over her reply, trying to decide if he really had heard a touch of sarcasm or not.

Chaos, of a rather organised kind, reigned at Donchad’s house in Uliad’s capital. A flurry of servants ferried boxes and items out of the house and into carts, ready to be ported away to the manor. A covered wagon contained DubEssa and her wet nurse, along with Nuala’s maids, but to Donchad’s surprise no sign of Nuala herself. Donchad scanned the bustle until he spotted his wife, being helped up onto her horse by the groom. Donchad hurried over, and inquired, “Aren’t you wanting to ride with DubEssa in the wagon?” Nuala looked down at him, her eyebrows drawn together into a single frowning line, “Why would I?”
“I just thought you might want to spend a bit of time with our baby, make sure she’s alright.”
“I’m a noble, not a peasant, we have a nurse to do that. I’ll ride next to you, as is my place, and you’ll not talk me out of that.”
“Now why’d I want to talk myself out of your lovely presence?”
“Just so long as you don’t use the opportunity to start spouting forth rubbish again.” A familiar looking brown haired head caught Nuala’s eye. She sat up taller in her saddle, craning her neck for a better view, “Culad’s searching for you, you’d best go see what he wants.” Donchad caught up with his cousin on the outskirts of the kafuffle. “So you’re off in a bit then?” asked Culad by way of greeting.
“As soon as they’ve finished putting everything on the carts.”
“How’s Nuala? I’d say she’s looking her old self again.”
“She’s well enough now, but I’m baffled by her lack of interest in little DubEssa. She’s perfect, I don’t see how it’s possible not to love her.”
“Give it time, I’m sure Nuala cares. How’d my little bit of advice go?”
“Terribly – she all but accused me of lying She doesn’t believe it at all, and I’m hearing her say ‘no more children’ so frequently it echoes in my dreams at night.”
“Find a few others to corroborate you on pennyroyal tea’s effects.” suggested Culad.
“Now where am I going to find people to do that?”
“Your problem, I’ve plenty of my own, mostly related to names and inheritance laws to change.” A servant half threw a small chest into the nearby cart, alarmed Donchad yelled, “Hey Watch it – that chest cost more than you’re worth” The servant grinned sheepishly and tugged hid forelock. Donchad rolled his eyes and blew out an exasperated puff of air, “Clumsy idiots. How’s Margaret doing?”
“Still in good health, but bored. She’s taken to going over the duchy’s accounts now, having run out of other things to do. My steward’s none too pleased. I’m becoming very familiar with her tirade on what she’d like to do the to man – that bit she assures me has to be correct – who thought up the idea of confinement in the first place.”
“It’s only been three days”
“According to her peasants manage fine without being shut away in a dark, stuffy room for months before the birth, therefore it’s all unnecessary. The midwives had to get very insistent, which means I get to hear plenty of complaining when I visit.” The wail of a baby drifted over to them on the breeze, Donchad’s head snapped around towards his daughter, “That’s my call to be off, goodbye Culad.” Culad watched his cousin hurry away, observing to himself, ”From fierce marshal to baby sitter in less than a month, I should get him to trade his sword for a rattle.”

[Axeknight]

Nuala's turning into a she-monster. She doesn't let old Doncho into the sack with her, hates Margaret, is greedy (I want 3 maids), and couldn't care less about little DubEssa (cool name, BTW). What next?

[The Wizard]

I say we go an' get her boys... [/Norse accent]



~Wiz http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-devilish.gif

[frogbeastegg]

:blinks a few times in surprise: Ok, I take a break from wrestling with a Donchad/Nuala soppy bit and find the Nuala debate has reached the org, but in a rather different tone to the paradox version.

Nuala has something of a scattergun effect on readers; there is a lot of variety in the opinions and comments posted about her. Other characters might get more comments, but those comments run mostly along the same lines. A good thing, I think, as Nuala is intended to be a catalyst for showing off the less obvious sides of the other characters, as well as being a key player in the big [spoiler] looming off in the future.

Nuala isn't that detestable, is she? I don't find her all that likeable, but she isn't supposed to be quite that horrible. You are supposed to end up feeling sorry for her, while at the same time cheering for the party who is hurting her. That is a long way in the future, more than a year and a half away. She is a slow burning character, each new scene should show a new side of her, or explain something about her. She should start off rather unlikeable, but grow better, not worse. She will never, at least in my eyes, get to be totally likeable.

Booting Donchad out is not nice, but it is supposed to be understandable - the pennyroyal tea is not completely reliable, and is lethal if you drink too much. From there she has the choice of another pregnancy that will probably kill her, or trying one of the assorted abortion inducing drugs, which also prove lethal in the wrong dosage. Nuala is young (er, no birthday but I guess she is 20 now), and really wants to live, if it wasn't such an overused cliché I'd say she has a burning desire to survive. Don’t forget she hints that Donchad sort of lied to her before; she says he talked her into sleeping with him and he never disputes that, nor does he ever comment on her saying he told her accidents don’t happen. She says she was a naïve thing back then, and again he doesn't argue.

These two aren’t a happy fluffy couple like Margaret and Culad; someone at paradox said they were more real world. They made a mistake; the question is can they live with the consequences? Before they got married was that love or lust?

As for DubEssa, well some women don't like children. Also mothers don't always bond instantly with their brats, sometimes it takes a lot longer, years even. Post natal depression, and other things this baby-hating frog knows little about. Nuala is a doting mother compared to what I'd be. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/eek.gif The game generated the name, and it took me ages to get Word to accept it without trying to undo the capital E.

Hates Margaret? Where do you get that from? The only scene with the two of them together had her being attacked by Margaret for trying to say thank you for something she thought Margaret had done.

Greedy? Well, yes http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-grin.gif Egotisitcal too, her attention seeking might have been to distract her from thought like 3 months and I'm dead, but it is still attention seeking.

What next? After this next part with the soppy scene there is something that will either make you change your mind on her a bit, or make you rank her along side Sigtryg as villain of the piece.

[frogbeastegg]

The urgent cries of a boy in trouble broke through the shell of comfortable complacency that has settled on Donchad after two days of easy travel. Looking about he soon spotted the source – in the middle of the river they were about to cross by bridge a boy was splashing about and screaming for help each time his head bobbed above water. Wasting no time Donchad jumped off his horse while it was still walking, ran towards the river, and gracelessly half dived, half belly flopped in. A mediocre swimmer at best Donchad soon found the current too strong to fight effectively, and so it was half by design and half by luck that he finally reached, and crashed into, the boy. Donchad made a grab for the boy, and caught an arm, which he used to pull the boy close enough for him to slip his other arm under the boy’s armpits. The boy kept panicking and flailing about, confounding Donchad’s efforts to tread water. They were both dragged under the surface, and the boy slipped out of Donchad’s grasp. Something solid impacted with Donchad’s left temple, and his vision exploded into coloured sparks. He drifted underwater, too stunned to fight the current. Donchad was bought back to reality by a tight, burning feeling in his lungs. Instinctively he began to kick, powering himself towards the surface. As soon as his head broke the surface Donchad gasped for air, too quickly because he went back under and swallowed a mouthful of water. A body banged into him, Donchad made a grab for it but caught nothing only empty water. Pain burned along his right flank, and hands shoved him back underwater. Even with his vision severely limited by the water, Donchad could see the river about him turning red. Desperately he clawed his way to the surface, only to see the boy swimming rapidly downstream away from him, and in no apparent difficulty. A hand seized Donchad’s collar and started to drag him towards the riverbank. Too tired to fight, and unwilling to drown himself again by turning to look, Donchad allowed himself to go limp, floating easily along behind his mystery rescuer. A soon as they reached the shallows Donchad’s collar was released, and he crawled his way onto the riverbank, and vomited up the water he had swallowed. The rescuer turned out to be the head cook, who was soon pushed out of the way by a frantic Nuala. She dropped to her knees next to Donchad, and wasted no time in rebuking him, “What the hell did you think you were doing? You can barely even swim” Donchad tried to stand up, but Nuala easily forced him to sit down on the grass, “Stay put already, you’ve been stupid enough for one day” Cautiously she lifted one side of the large, blood soaked rent in Donchad’s tunic and examined the long knife wound snaking its way along his ribs.
The cook whistled in admiration, “Little runt tried to do for you with a knife though the heart – lucky for you he’s a poor aim and your ribs got in the way.”
Nuala handled the cook in a preoccupied manner, “Yes, thank you very much. Now why don’t you go change before you catch a cold?” She tilted Donchad’s head to get a better view of his injured temple, where a messy cut was already beginning to show a bruised corona. Nuala pulled him to one side so he was leaning against her, pulled off the veil she was wearing on her head, and started to dab gently at his cut temple, “Just look at the mess you’ve made of your clothes.” she chided, oblivious to the mess she was making of her own. Donchad surrendered to her ministrations, and mumbled, “Sorry.”
“I thought I’d lost you.” Donchad looked up at his wife and saw she was crying. Nuala mustered a watery smile, “You inconsiderate bastard.”
Donchad’s eyes shone, “It’s been months since you last called me that. I missed it.”
“I’ve been shut away sick in a stuffy room for a quarter of a year, you’ve been talking about DubEssa endlessly for ages – of course I’ve not had occasion to say that It’s not like the old days, I can’t call you inconsiderate for turning up late when I’ve sneaked out to see you, because my door’s no longer guarded by a jealous father with an eye to joining fiefs by marriage to his profit.”
Donchad quoted from memory a speech he had heard many times, which was more a ritual than anything now, “Late again, and after all the trouble I took getting here I’m risking my skin and you can’t even arrive on time, you inconsiderate bastard.” He smiled slightly, reviving another old disagreement that had long since ceased to be anything other than a game, “You know I was never actually late, you just thought so.”
“You were late, every single time nearly”
“No I wasn’t.”
“Yes you were.”
“If I’m remembering right there’s a big old oak tree on a hill a few minutes away from our new home.” Donchad winced as Nuala started cleaning the wound on his chest, but he kept talking, “I’m thinking I might be sat under it later this evening, if you want to join me…if that husband of yours doesn’t know he can’t stop you.”
Nuala stopped what she was doing and assessed Donchad as though she was wondering if the head injury had caused him to go mad, then she smiled, “He won’t even notice I’m gone, he’s far more interested in some young girl by the name of DubEssa nowadays. Don’t be late, and be careful dodging that wife of yours – she might brain with a skillet.”
“I’m never late, and I’ll leave the wife to her pessimism, but somehow I doubt she’d attack me with a pan. She’s too nice for that.”
“Now what kind of a thing to say is that?”
“An honest one.”
“Forget the flattery, let’s get you home and bandaged up, or you will be late meeting me again, us per usual.”

Fionna waited nervously for Sigtryg’s response to her news. The count had been stood as still as a statue, staring out of the room’s window for several minutes now, not uttering a single sound. The spymaster was unable to decide if this was a good sign or not; at least he hadn’t flown into another bad tempered outburst, but on the other hand he could be building up towards a spectacular explosion. The silence continued for so long Fionna almost jumped out of her skin when the count finally spoke, “Tell me again of Nuala’s reaction.”
“She was described as very distressed at what happened, Lordship. She wouldn’t leave his side for hours after, the last I heard they were still together as though glued to each other.”
“Our sources suggested relations between them had cooled most considerably, but this changes things. I’d say she still cares about him deeply, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I would. We know he’s still mad about her, so it seems they’ve solved their differences, for now at any rate.”
“That matters little, for it’s Nuala herself I’m seeing a great future for now…” Sigtryg turned away from the window, “This could be a gift from heaven itself. Did you take care of the fisher boy who bungled the job?”
“Yes, he’s dead and will trouble us no further.”
“Excellent. Now let me tell you of Nuala’s place in my destiny…”







Well that took forever, first the drowning bit read peculiarly for reasons I couldn't put my finger on, so I redid the whole bit. Then that mushy bit between Donchad and Nuala, well let me say there is mush and then there is mush, and this brand of mush is far worse than the Margaret/Culad brand. Heaven knows why, but that pathetically short little bit took several days, whereas I can now do a Margaret/Culad scene in about a day.

No, Nuala hasn't been made to look better if she is looking any better, hard to say sometimes) because of the comments yesterday, she was always going to do this, just as she was always going to do what she will do in the next piece...

[frogbeastegg]

On the second day in the new manor house Nuala decided to explore the extensive gardens, an over grown, neglected mass of half wild plants sorely in need to hacking back and uprooting. She was planning to convert the area into a large herb garden to supply both kitchen and medicine store. As she neared the far end of the garden a hand clamped over Nuala’s mouth, and another about her waist, and she was dragged off the path into the cover of the nearby bushed. “Not a sound, or I’ll cut your throat.” warned a man’s voice near her ear, “Don’t try anything daft.” She was dragged further away, into deeper cover, and the voice rasped again, “Give me your word not to be foolish and I’ll let you go. There’s nowhere to run to, so don’t get ideas.” Nuala nodded as best she could, and the man let her go. He turned out to be a forgettable looking man in his early 40’s, with greying hair and no distinguishing features. He was dressed as a peddler, with a nasty looking dagger belted at his waist. He flashed a gap toothed grin when he saw her eyeing his weapon, “Oh don’t worry, my orders were alive and unharmed if you cooperated.” the man rubbed his hands together and cracked his knuckles, “Now down to business. Lord Sigtryg has decided you can be two things; useful or dead, the choice is yours. What we need is an insider, and you’re to be it.”
“I don’t think so.” Nuala tried to sound brave, but her voice wobbled slightly.
“Did I neglect to say that we’re going to be killing Culad’s best supporters, and that Donchad’s the top of the list? Now if you’re helping us then there’s reason to leave him be, otherwise…well you’ve seen our work.”
“The drowning boy.”
“Oh aye, that’d be us.”
“He won’t be easy prey – he’s alert now.”
“Easy prey?” the man laughed, “Your whole family’s easy prey, just look how I snatched you, go look above your baby’s crib and you’ll see my mark – a red ribbon tied in a bow and pinned above her head. The boy was just the first of many, many possible attempts on Donchad, and one will succeed, mark my words. Now see here’s the deal, you help us or we kill that dear sweet baby right before Donchad’s eyes, before gutting him and leaving him to die while you watch and wait your own end. Finally we come back to you, to round out the trio. We’re not asking the earth here; just some small bits and pieces that’ll help out, and as a bonus distract Sigtryg from Donchad. For now it’s just an invite for Ayd to visit you at your new home, there’s nothing unpleasant about asking the steward to come visit and look over the farms to help you raise cash, is there? That’s all we ask, for you to send an invite, no more. Go home, look and see my token, then decide what’s more valuable – your family’s lives, or the life of one aging man you barely know. If you decide to live, send the invitation by tomorrow afternoon, I’ll know whether you do or not.” The man stepped out of Nuala’s way and she ran past him, back towards the house. She didn’t stop until she skidded to a halt in the nursery. There above DubEssa’s head was a red ribbon, just as the man had promised.

11th February 1067
Culad was already drowning in bad news when the messenger bearing the report of Ayd’s death reached him. Scrubbing his face with his hands he wearily spoke to the messenger still stood before him, “Go find and summon what’s left of my council, send them to me here.”
“Lordship, at this late hour not many’ll be awake.”
Culad looked up, feeling incredibly drained and older than his 26 years, “Not many are left to sleep; summon them all but Margaret.” The messenger bowed and hurried off to do his master’s bidding.

Less than two hours later Culad met with what was left of his council. Donchad was away in his new manor house. Margaret was still confined to her rooms. Ayd was dead, cut down by ‘bandits’ as he travelled from the capital to Donchad’s manor. Gofraid, as chancellor, was the only titled advisor present. Aside from him there were only two other men; Toirrdelbach and Mathgamain. Culad briefly outlined the situation, “Sigtryg’s had Ayd murdered, and that’s in addition to the other trouble he’s caused – fires burning our crops, poisoned water supplies in random villages, nobles kidnapped and ransomed. He’s playing with us, taking advantage of Margaret’s absence. Knowing that helps little”
Gofraid tried to smother a yawn, “There’s only one solution, Lordship, and that’s to appoint a stand-in spymaster to fill the gap.”
“But who?” as soon as the words were out of his mouth Culad’s memory pricked, “Fionnghualla.”
“That kinslayer” burst out Toirrdelbach, “Have things got so bad we need such as her? Rather, we should put her on trail for her crimes - let her pay on the end of a rope” Gofraid and Mathgamain murmured their agreement. Culad interjected, “Enough That’s Margaret’s own suggestion, and I trust her reasoning. And yes, things are so bad we need Fionnghualla.” Mathgamain considered for a moment, and then added his voice to Culad’s, “I’ve no wish to be murdered in my bed, and it seems Sigtryg’s more likely to be the cause than the kinslayer. It is only temporary, till Margaret’s back.” First Gofraid, then Toirrdelbach backed down. Culad breathed a mental sigh of relief, “And so we’ve just got the new steward to appoint. Mathgamain, Ayd made no secret that he was grooming you to be his successor. The post’s yours.” Mathgamain ducked his head in acknowledgement, “Lordship, I’ll not let you down.” Culad pushed himself to his feet, “Good. That’s all, go get some sleep and for God’s sake be careful, I can’t afford many more losses.”






Yet another short segment, when there is nothing much happening short is the best I can do without longer to think.

Here's an interesting situation: Nuala is working for Sigtryg now, Fionnghualla is temporary spymaster. They hate each other. Will Nuala be found out? I don't actually know yet, I can see possible storylines for both eventualities, but which is more appealing? Decisions, decisions...

[Axeknight]

Ooh This bit's looking good http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif - nice little cliffhanger.

[Ludens]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 20 2004,19:33)]I forgot to ask if that is any better than the original, d'oh
I haven't got time to read the rest of your story, but the new version of the Sitryg is much better than the previous version. The dialogue between Sitryg and Culad is very good http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif .

And now I must make hast to arrive in time at the lecture room...

[frogbeastegg]

February 28th 1067
“Milady, there’s a pedlar here to see you. He’s selling ribbons. Shall I let him in or be rid of him?”
“Be rid of him” thought Nuala desperately, although she couldn’t risk saying that. “Show him in.” The door guard bowed and left, only to return a short while later leading the pedlar. It was, just as Nuala suspected, Sigtryg’s agent. He doffed his battered cap, and bobbed a nervous looking bow, as the doorkeeper left them alone. The instant the door clicked shut behind him the pedlar dropped the humble act, “Good job, most effective. Your next task will be far less objectionable, no one need die, except you if you slip up. I doubt Culad’ll be happy with a caught spy, but that’s your problem to solve, or best yet avoid. You’ll find me the details of Culad’s accounts, down to every last copper. I want to know how much money he has, where he spends it, when he spends it, how much he has saved – everything.”
“How am I supposed to find that?”
“Your problem, see you either find me the information or I reduce the population of Uliad by three. If you bring me bad information you can explain your double-dealings to saint Peter. If you bungle and get caught, well let’s be hoping Culad’s in a friendly mood. Understand?”
“Yes.” replied Nuala, in a voice heavy with despair.

It took Nuala several days to persuade Donchad to take her back to the capital, ostentatiously on a shopping trip. The journey itself took several days, and so it was just over a week later that she was stood hidden by the night’s dark in Culad’s office, sifting through documents with a speed born of terror and desperation. “Find anything interesting?” inquired a stern voice behind her. Nuala whipped around, to find Fionnghualla blocking the doorway, “It’s a strange place to come to look for bed time reading, and you’re obviously possessing strange tastes. Many would find accounts to be dull reading.”
“How…?” Nuala’s voice was little more than a squeak. Fionnghualla's lip curled contemptuously, “You’ve spent the last couple of days asking not so subtle questions about Uliad’s accounts. Add that to the fact Ayd died on his way to see you, at your invitation, and it’s so blindingly obvious I’d have to be dead not to notice.”
“They threatened to kill me, to kill all of us…Donchad, DubEssa. I had no choice.”
“Oh, there’s always a choice, but you’re too sheep headed to see it. You could have quietly said something to Donchad, he’d have got you all to safety.”
“They attacked us on the way out, we’d not get away if we fled. I…couldn’t risk it. I don’t want to die, and I can’t lose…them.”
“You’re living proof of my theory that love makes people into idiots, although I’m none so sure you weren’t an idiot in the first place. A contradictory idiot at that – you don’t even like your brat.”
“No, but it seems a waste of effort if she dies.”
Fionnghualla peered at Nuala, searching out the truth in her words, “Liar, the waste of effort is true enough, but you do like the brat, at least a tiny bit. Let me guess, that first smile plucked heartstrings? How pathetic.” Nuala said nothing. Fionnghualla advanced a step, using her height advantage to seem more intimidating “I asked you a question – answer it”
“Nothing to do with smiles, more the fact she threw up all over Donchad when he was doing yet another of his stomach turning googoo speeches. She just echoed what I was doing mentally, but with the addition of catching the cause of the problem. Give it another few years and she might actually be vaguely likeable, but for now in very small doses she is less detestable then she was.”
“You should have stuck with the vomiting brat and googooing husband, instead of straying into my game. You’re far too feeble to be an interesting opponent, now Margaret, on the other hand, she can play. It’s a great shame we’re both on the same side in this, the chance to take on a worthy opponent is so rare. And now there’s the question of what to do with you. A choice, I think. I can turn you in to Culad, and let this scandal work its course, or I can use you to my own ends. Choose.” Nuala stammered, saying nothing coherent. Fionnghualla rolled her yes, “Fabulous answer, very clear and incisive. You’re far too easy to manipulate, so I won’t even bother. Culad probably won’t kill you, Donchad’ll stand by you like the fool he is, but you’ll be under suspicion for the rest of your life and I’d say there’ll be a lot of shouting and other unpleasantness. Suspicion gets wearing if you don’t know how to deal with it, and somehow I suspect you’d crumble under the tiniest of pressures, so you’ll not be choosing that option. On the other hand you can become the pet of someone you once called a pointy-faced, ugly old hag, always vulnerable to exposure and blackmail. Playing double agent is dangerous, and with your pathetic skills you’d never survive, so you’ll be reliant on my help.” Fionnghualla smiled wickedly, savouring the moment, “Dependant on a known kinslayer who has a grudge. I suppose there is a third way - kill yourself. I doubt you’ll be doing that. You will choose the second, because you want to live and you won’t risk losing Donchad’s love. Just nod and smile along as I say the obvious, you’re hardly articulate right now. The second option, right?” Nuala nodded, and Fionnghualla continued, “Now you’ll be given false information to feed back to your friend. You will also stay here until I say otherwise. You’ll be given some new servants, just some barely skilled nothings you picked up to help out with all those expensive things you are going to buy. They’ll be working for me, so don’t get cute and sack them. I’ll fill in the detail later, right now you should run back to your rooms, and pray Donchad wasn’t looking for you, for you’ll have a hell of a time thinking of a good excuse.”







Obviously I decided Nuala being found out was a better plot move. Fionnghualla is a real bitch, and such fun to write http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-grin.gif

[The Wizard]

And when you have fun writing a part, Froggy, it's obvious Good part



~Wiz http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-thumbsup.gif

[frogbeastegg]

March 24th 1067
Culad had been anxiously pacing about his study for hours now, fretting and worrying like never before. He completed yet another circuit about the room, and wondered for the thousandth time “What’s happening? Sure it can’t take this long, something must be wrong – I know something must be wrong” Oh dear God, keep her safe and I’ll build a new chapel, no a church even Hang on, that’s bribery, isn’t it? Um, sorry Lord, but you’re knowing what I mean, right? I’m knowing you can’t be bribed, but just be thinking it was my damn fool idea so direct any thunder bolts in my direction, please? Watch over Margaret, I can’t lose her” His rather disordered prayer was interrupted by the door opening, and the head midwife stuck her head through the gap, “It’s all over, you’ve got a son. They’re both in good health.”
Culad collapsed backwards with relief, only half managing to land on the nearby chair, and nearly falling off onto the floor, “Praise be” He leapt to his feet and started towards the door, “I’ve got to see them.”
“Oh no you don’t.” said the midwife sternly, “Not for a few hours, give the poor woman time to rest before you go running off like an overeager puppy, bothering her.”
“But-”
“No.” the midwife shooed him back into the room. Culad protested, “I’m the duke, and this is my castle and my family”
“And I was there when you were born, you made a lot of unnecessary noise back then too. Now sit down and wait-”
“I’ve been waiting”
“Then wait some more.” With one final stern glare, the midwife left shutting the door firmly behind her.

A few hours later Culad was seated at his wife’s bedside, cradling his sleeping son in the crook of his arm. Bursting with pride he said, “My little MáelSechlainn.”
“We are not calling him MaelSehc..MealSch…Mael…that He’s not getting a name his own mother can’t pronounce. My Irish is good, but not that good.”
“You suggest something then.”
“How about a good Saxon name, like Thurcytel?”
“Now I’m normally quite happy to agree with you, but there’s no way he’ll be named that – it sounds like someone choking on a piece of meat” Culad looked at his son, considering, “How about GillaÍsu?”
“GillaÍsu…I think I can manage that.”
“That’s settled then.” Culad brushed a finger over the downy black hair on his son’s head, and said in a choked voice, “ How’d we ever manage this?”
“You’ve forgotten already?” Margaret grinned as the normally embarrassment proof Culad flushed beet red, and stammered, “I, er – no I was meaning more like he’s so perfect.”
“Yes, although it’ll be a wonder if he stays that way – you know they flat out refuse to put him in swaddling bands? He’ll grow up with bent limbs”
“We never bother with all that nonsense here in Ireland, and you’re not seeing many crooked people hereabouts, now are you? I never saw the reasoning in tying a baby up like that.”
“Well, I suppose you turned out alright…mostly alright.”
“Hey What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What kind of a person would want to name their son MaelSc…Maelwhatsit?”
Culad laughed, “You’re right, that name’s not suited to him. Our little GillaÍsu’s going to be duke of Ulster one day. He’ll be a fierce warrior, a great leader, a careful spender, and I’m certain if he inherits even a fraction of his mother’s cunning he’ll be able to outthink anyone. Our GillaÍsu, our little baby.”








Two parts in one day, it's been ages since I managed that.

Margaret's back, yay I've missed her. Margaret may be able to wrap her Saxon tongue about GillaIsu, but I can't. Anyone want to tell a frog how to say that name? It's got one of those accent thingies above the I...

At this point in the game I was a happy frog indeed, my future was secure. From here things could only go up, and what plans I had, a bright future for young GillaIsu indeed.

[Axeknight]

Well, if it's Irish, I assume something along the lines of Gee-lah-ee-sue or maybe Gee-layee-soo http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-dizzy2.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Nuala rolled away from her sleeping husband, and waited with baited breath to see if he woke. Donchad slumbered on, apparently undisturbed by his arm dropping off her shoulders. Carefully Nuala got out of bed and dressed, glancing over her shoulder at the sleeping figure every few seconds. She tiptoed her way to the door, and was about to open it when Donchad asked, “Where’re you going?”
“Nowhere…just out for a bit of air, I’m not feeling too well.”
“I’ll come with you then.” Donchad sat up.
“No need for that. You get some rest, you’ve that inspection of Culad’s newly expanded cavalry tomorrow.”
“I’ll be fine, a few hours lost sleep is nothing.”
“No, really I’d not feel right depriving you of your sleep.”
“You didn’t say that earlier.” Donchad looked at her for a long moment, before shutting his eyes and bowing his head in defeat, “Go then, but know that if you walk out that door you won’t be welcome back. Ever.”
“What are you talking about, Donchad?”
“Don’t play coy – you’ve been meeting someone in secret, sending and receiving messages, buying new clothes, coming and going at odd hours, hiding things from me. You’ll have to chose now, him or me.”
“It’s not like that Not at all”
“Then what?”
“I…I can’t say.”
Donchad snorted, plainly not believing her, “How convenient. If you don’t go soon you’ll be late, and I’m doubting your lover will like that.”
Nuala lost her temper, and tried to both shout and keep quiet at the same time, “I’m a spy, damn it Fionnghualla’s blackmailing me into trapping an agent of Sigtryg’s who threatened to kill us all unless I worked for him”
“I think you’d better get explaining.”

As soon as Fionnghualla saw both Nuala and Donchad had arrived for the meeting she frowned, and demanded brusquely, “What part of don’t tell anyone didn’t you understand?”
“I’m a light sleeper.” growled Donchad, putting an arm protectively about Nuala’s shoulders. Fionnghualla smiled ruefully at Nuala, “I should have known that suggesting you collect a headache was far too subtle for such as you to comprehend.”
Nuala braced herself for another round of fighting, “Not at all, but I doubt you’d understand the thinking behind my choice to ignore you.”
“I understand you’re incapable of thinking at all. You do tend to sleep your way into trouble, don’t you? Excuse the pun. No, on second thoughts don’t, it’s far too good to ignore.”
Nuala forced herself to smile wistfully, and dreamily leaned her head on Donchad’s shoulder, “I can think of far worse ways to get in trouble, but then you’d not know that.”
“Was that an attempted insult? I suppose it was, how feeble. For a jab to work it has to hurt the target, catch a weak point, I care not for your pathetic version of married bliss, I far prefer my own. Let me show you another example of how it’s done; you’d know far more about trouble than me, since you’re stupid enough to get yourself into all kinds of messes that you’re to moronic to get out of. Instead you rely on others to help you all the time.”
“Maybe I like being rescued?” suggested Nuala nonchalantly.
Fionnghualla looked disgusted, “How very cute. Let’s be on to business, I have better thing to do that stand about in the middle of the night talking to you – you’re far to easy a target, watching dust float in the air is more intellectually stimulating than tearing you to ribbons.”
Donchad pinned Fionnghualla with an unwavering, level gaze, and said, “This is going to end now. No more games, Fionnghualla, be rid of the agent then leave us in peace.”
Fionnghualla wasn’t bothered in the least, “Oh aye, simple enough – I’ll just arrest your wife as she talks to the spy, that’ll put a nice ending to all this, and quickly too.”
“You are not going to throw Nuala to the wolves over this”
“I will do what I will do, and you will not interfere or I’ll not bother to mention that your block-headed wife was working for me when she contacted that agent. Oh, believe me I’m not about to let you both off the hook so easily, I have plans for the pair of you. None the less I do want this done before Margaret reappears, I like to leave matters tidy, so we’ve little time to faff about. Here’s what’s going to happen; you.” Fionnghualla dismissively flapped a hand in Nuala’s direction, “Will attract the agent, telling him you have his information. You will give him this,” she handed Nuala a small packet wrapped in a piece of non-descript cheap linen, “As soon as you have done that guards will appear and arrest you both – you’ll play along and generally look shocked, horrified, and wail rubbish like ‘oh no the end has arrived, I’m doomed’. The pair of you will be dragged back here in chains, and after a short delay you’ll get a nice trial in front of Culad. You.” she looked at Donchad with barely hidden contempt, “Will pretend you know nothing of this…shouldn’t be too hard, you manage to look clueless by default. You will stay silent until it is revealed she’s been playing spies, at which point you can burst forth with things like ‘I thought she was having an affair, what an incredible act, it even fooled me, I am so shocked to learn of her evilness but also oh so relieved to find I don’t need to dispose of her to a nunnery or similar, it’s just a shame she’s going to be executed now, oh dear oh dear’ – if you do a decent job of that drippy here might even end up as some kind of vague heroine, for her uncanny ability to look guilty for the sake of Ulster.”
“I can’t do that I won’t accuse her-”
“Oh yes you will, otherwise you’re party to her treason and you did nothing about it. Either you’re part of the conspiracy or you believed something else, you can’t play ignorant. I’m not ruining my credibility by saying you were in on this at any point, a good spymaster keeps only those who need to know informed, and you most certainly don’t need to know. Now don’t demonstrate your ignorance further still, and say there must be another excuse – there isn’t, not a convincing one. What else would she be doing, that requires such deception and strange hours and practises? Slipping away to attend prayer meetings?”
Donchad repeated his protest again, more firmly, “I can’t say that, find another reason.”
Nuala stared at her husband in astonished scorn, “Why’s it matter? It’s my name that’s being slandered, not yours, and you’ve already proven you have no trouble making such claims.”
“Oh how very interesting, a squabble, one with a potentially long lifespan. Most entertaining, but irrelevant to this. Donchad, you will do as I say, or half the case for saving drippy goes flying out the window, and you end up under suspicion as well.” Donchad said nothing, surrendering the fight. Fionnghualla said, “That’s settled then, good, just make sure you play your parts well. Nuala, you’ll attract that spy tomorrow morning. He’s followed you here, so all you need to do is wander about in an area he can approach you without being spotted, and he’ll come running.”

Nuala was burning with cold fury for the entire trip back to their rooms. The moment the door shut behind them enabling them to talk in private Donchad said, “I don’t see why you’re so upset.”
“You didn’t trust me” exclaimed Nuala, as if the problem were as obvious as the sun at midday. Donchad just shrugged, “Nor you me, or else you’d have told me about that creature of Sigtryg’s. I don’t see how it matters.”
“There is a vast difference between being threatened into silence, and what you accused me of. If you can’t see that you’re blind.”
“Yes, but I’m still not seeing the problem, if anything you should be happy – think of what I suspected, then remember what I did. Nothing, nothing at all until you forced my hand. You should be glad, I could have sent you away, locked you up, disowned you, made your life so unpleasant you wished you’d never been born, but no, I did nothing. Nothing, even though it tore my heart in two.”
“Let me guess – I’m supposed to be thanking you for your kind benevolence?”
“Not quite, but I’d have thought you’d have seen the value in gentleness.”
“All you did was condemn me with no chance to defend myself. You made no effort to check you were right, you just assumed, because you don’t trust me.”
“Give the matter some thought, and I’m confidant you’ll see things my way. Now it’s very late, and you’ll be spending most of tomorrow in chains, so I’d suggest we go back to sleep, rather than fight over this. Consider that a very strong suggestion, you’ve nowhere else to go and I’m not letting you away from me when there’s some assassin out after us.”




I'm beginning to feel distinctly mean.

This part took forever because I'm busy, it actually only took a couple of hours to hammer together.

[Ludens]

Good work, Froggy. I like the way the plot 'thickens', with the reader knowing things that Culad knows not but really needs to know. You should try to do that more often.

However, I am a bit amazed that Fionnghualla is trying to blackmail Donchad. I would think Fionnghualla's plot would fall to pieces if Donchad gets a chance to talk to his cousin in private.
Who does she think Culad will believe: Donchad, who is his cousin, confidant and life long friend, or her, a kinslayer and not particularly liked by Culad's wife?

[frogbeastegg]

You will be pleased to hear that the plot thickens and continues along the 'ignorant Culad' line in the future, oh yes...

Fionnghualla and blackmail...she'd insist she's far above such a patethic tool, and that she is merely stating what will be. Perhaps in this case she is right. She is outlining a very efficent, low cost and low damage way to trap Sigtryg's agent and take him alive for questioning, as well as make it clear to Sigtryg that Nuala is too closely watched to be of further use to him, without making it obvious Nuala was a double agent.

Who will Culad believe? The cousin who does wild things with little thought? The man who is desperate to save his beloved wife from charges of high treason? The man who is guilty by association, and failure to do anything? The only way Donchad can explain his lack on interference with Nuala's activities is to say exactly what Fionnghualla wants him to - the truth. Fionnghulla, on the other hand, was recommended by Margaret (who is still stuck in her rooms, all but oblivious to this), is obviously highly skilled, has the word of several guards and agents to back her up, and plenty of evidence. And what of Nuala? Somehow I doubt she'd tamely sit by and allow Donchad to claim he never suspected her at all, she's far too peed off for that. It all ends up playing out to Fionnghualla's prediction anyway, but with a lot more damage done to all parties.

Fionnghualla is outlining the best possible plan, but with her own nasty wording to make it sting.

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 29 2004,22:38)]Who will Culad believe? The cousin who does wild things with little thought? The man who is desperate to save his beloved wife from charges of high treason? The man who is guilty by association, and failure to do anything?
*whipping cream* The plot thickens... http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/flat.gif

[scooter_the_shooter]

this is a good story i will be watching this one http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

[katank]

nice job as usual, froggy http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

I was actually a bit confused by Fionnghualla, with her name so similar to Fionna and everything.

any suggestion of a doppelganger of some sort that has both sides having the same spymaster?

[frogbeastegg]

Donchad kept pace at his cousin’s side as they answered the summons to ‘an important matter requiring immediate attention from your Lordship’. Privately wishing Culad would walk faster, Donchad occupied himself thinking of imaginative ways to ‘thank’ Fionnghualla for her decision to play out this drama in the middle of Culad’s great audience chamber in full view of the entire court. As the great doors swung open Donchad didn’t need to fake his reaction to finding Nuala under arrest, his shock on seeing his wife with bound hands, flanked by a pair of burly, heavily armed guards and sporting a collection of bruises, scrapes and a bandaged left hand was real. He started to run forwards, crying out, “What have you done to her?” One of the guards stepped over to block his path, “She resisted arrest.”
“Get out of my way” He may as well have been talking to a statue for all the reaction he got, but when Donchad tried to slip sideways past him, the ‘statue’ blocked him again. Donchad pushed the man, trying to force him clear; “I’m the duke’s marshal and second in command of all Ulster’s armed forces, now get out of my way”
“I’m sorry sir, but I’ve orders and I’ll follow them.” The guard lowered his spear point threateningly towards Donchad, as did the other guard.
Culad intervened, with visions of Donchad pushing the matter until he got stabbed, “Enough Let the man talk to his wife.” he turned to the room at large and demanded, “Now will someone tell me what in God’s name is going on here?” Donchad ignored this, finally reaching Nuala’s side and enquiring quietly, “What happened? Are you alright?”
“I shouldn’t have tried to run, they tripped me up with a spear butt.”
Donchad rested his hand atop her bandaged one, “And this?”
“I cut my palm as I landed, I hit the ground hard.”
Fionnghualla’s strident voice caught Donchad’s attention. “Lordship I bring to you the main two people responsible for the wave of underhand acts Sigtryg has struck us with. That man,” Fionnghualla pointed at the ‘pedlar’ who was also present, bound and well guarded, without stopping her speech, “Has corrupted and conspired with Nuala to weaken and destroy Ulster. He is the brains and she the tool, he plans and she follows, together they are responsible for the death of Ayd, the near death of Donchad, the burning of our crops and supplies, the theft of sensitive documents-”
“That’s a lie” burst Donchad, unable to listen any longer, “He may have done this, but not Nuala”
Fionnghualla was expecting the interruption, “You deny that she’s been keeping strange hours? That she’s been acting strangely and secretively? Meeting someone in secret? She’s surrounded by odd coincidence in that all near her of import have a run in with death – you yourself nearly died, do you deny this?”
The silence stretched out for a long time before Donchad admitted defeat, “No.” Culad looked at his friend, stony faced and mistrustful, “You knew, and said nothing?”
“I…I knew, but I thought…differently.”
“Really?” Culad’s resentment at being forced to suspect Donchad because of his kinsman’s actions was obvious, “Thought what, that let you keep silent when all in my council knew of this threat and were ordered to report any small clues?”
Donchad tightened his hold on Nuala’s hand, crushed at being forced into following Fionnghualla’s plan after all, “I thought she was seeing another man.”
A voice from the audience called out in disbelief, “And yet you ignored it? Hah, a poor excuse You must think us fools to believe we’d fall for such as that” Donchad looked wretched, Culad glared at him and demanded, “Well?”
“I thought it was for the best. To act was to risk making her hate me, and I couldn’t bear that. I left the way open for her to come back to me with no known damage done.”
The owner of the disbelieving voice shouldered his way to the front of the audience, it was a newly arrived young man called Seoán, who’s his fiery temperament was only matched by his fiery red flushed face, “More foolishness – I say he knew of this and was part of the plot”
Old Gofraid added a calming voice to the growing murmur of discontent, “Is it really so strange? The young are prone to foolish acts, as are those in love, and those possessing a reckless nature. Donchad here is all three, and we all know him to be so. I’d be more amazed if he’d stopped to think on what this might really mean.”
Seoán wasn’t finished, “If he’s as bad as you say then why’s he marshal? He’ll lead our armies to disaster one day – better to replace him with someone fit to command.”
“Someone like you?” asked Gofraid mildly, “I’m thinking you’ve not heard, or seen, Donchad’s great valour in battle.”
“Valour’s nothing when leading, it’s fine enough for an individual solider, but a commander needs real skill, not the brainless ability to crack skulls.” Seoán spat on the ground, “I’m thinking I could beat yon curd brained oaf in one on one combat anyhow.”
Donchad’s hand flew to his sword hilt and he drew the first few inches of steel, “You’ll have chance to do just that, for I’ll listen to no more of your bile filled nonsense”
Once again Culad was forced to step in to prevent his audience chamber turning into a battleground, “Stop it, both of you” he turned to his cousin, “Seoán’s right, you’re a curd brained oaf. Gofraid’s also right, it’d be odd if you acted differently.” Culad turned to Fionnghualla, “I hope you have evidence to back up what you say.”
“I do, Lordship, I am satisfied that you bring this matter to trial here where all can see, so none can say we deal behind closed doors.”
“We?” repeated Culad.
Fionnghualla bowed her head slightly, “I mean we as in Ulster, not as in we personally, Lordship.”
“So be it, bring your evidence.”

The presentation of the evidence lasted several hours, with many witnesses being brought out to give their testimony, and letters and spy reports being presented to the court. The whole time Culad listened carefully, not looking at either Donchad or Nuala, it was as if they didn’t exist. Finally it was time for him to give his verdict, he stood up and spoke clearly, “I’m satisfied that man is Sigtryg’s creature, and that he has done all that is charged against him. Let him be hanged now.” He paused and took a deep breath, “I’m also satisfied Nuala is innocent of half these charges, but only half. She was indirectly involved in murder, and she turned traitor without even trying to raise the alarm. I own that she was under extreme duress, but that makes no difference to Ayd. The law is clear – a life for a life.” Donchad was one of many raising their voice to decry this verdict; the whole chamber erupted with people calling Culad harsh, and blood hungry. The duke held up his hands, and demanded silence. He had to repeat his request several times before he could be heard properly, and even then he still had to shout, “The law is the law and I will uphold it equally for all I am a just man, and the law is justice and applies to all, no matter how high or low Let it be seen I will act even when it hurts me to do so, that I hold no favourites” The chamber filled with shouts of “Shame”, and refused to comply with Culad’s repeated orders for silence. Thinking to get this over with quickly, Culad gestured to the closet guards to take the two prisoners away. The pedlar was lead out to die, kicking and struggling, but without incident from the throng. The guards refused to go near Nuala, partly in fear of the crowd, and partly because Donchad had his sword drawn and was threatening to kill any who laid so much as a finger on her. Culad stepped forward himself, thinking to persuade his friend out the way, but found Donchad’s sword point aimed unwaveringly at his chest. His cousin kept himself between Culad and Nuala, and said, “Even you, one finger and I’ll kill you.”
“You won’t do this.” Culad took a tiny step closer, Donchad’s sword rested on his clothes, just below his breastbone.
Donchad didn’t waver, “I thought the same of you.”
Seoán appeared behind Culad, and dragged him back, away from the sword, before saying to Donchad, “For shame Drawing steel on your lord, think of what you do” Sorrow was evident in Donchad’s voice as he replied, “When my lord breaks faith with me, I must break faith with him and he is my lord no longer.” If Culad said anything it was lost in the roar of the crowd, calling for a reprieve for Nuala. Fionnghualla spoke just loudly enough for Culad and those near him to hear, “The people have spoken, and found your verdict flawed. You risk revolt if you continue this course, let her go to house arrest under Donchad’s care.” Culad looked about him, at the angry crowd, at his resolute cousin, and finally at the petrified Nuala herself, and his resolve gave way, “So be it, let it not be said I am unmerciful.” Those close enough to overhear this change of heart passed the news to their neighbours, and soon the whole room knew and erupted again, but this time into cheers. Donchad cut Nuala’s hands free and sheathed his sword, before drawing her close to him and starting towards the exit, ignoring Culad totally. The duke shouted, “Where are you going?”
Donchad halted, and half turned, “Back out to my manor, away from you.”
“You can’t just up and leave, you’re my marshal”
“Your marshal, not your dog that you can whistle to heel.” Donchad started walking again, with Nuala still tucked in close at his side.





Again I've been busy, hence the delay.

That part features cats being put amongst pigeons, and we see Nuala showing off bad sides again, this time Culad's. A need to be fair and neutral, let run away to ridiculous extremes so it becomes unfairly harsh.

Thank you, caesar010 http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/ht_bow.gif

:looks at the cream Axeknight is whipping: Quite thick, but I think it can stand to get a little thicker with some more time.

katank, Fionna and Fionnghualla are definitely two seperate people, although it would be fun if they weren't... :imagines spymasters running from one end of Ireland to the other for a meeting, then swapping clothes and running back:

Fionna is actually a spelling mistake, she should be Fiona but by the time that was pointed out it was a bit late, so I just pretend it is a Celtic variant spelling http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-grin.gif

Names are a big problem for this story, I have a pool of about 70 names, both male and female, provided by the game. All the main characters bear the names the game has given, that includes Fionnghualla. The secondary characters, like Fionna and Gofraid, mostly have names provided by the game, but some were renamed becassue they had the same name as someone else. Ayd was originally Aed, just like the ex-vassal. The characters who were entirely made up by me are limited to names that aren't used already, either now or in the future, and to names that are usable. If the character only needs to be named a few times, like Seoán it doesn't matter if they have accents in the spelling as I can copy and paste easily. If they are going to hang about they need a name I can actually type myself, and there aren't many of those left.

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 30 2004,20:00)]:looks at the cream Axeknight is whipping: Quite thick, but I think it can stand to get a little thicker with some more time.
So are looking at butter-thickness? Cheese? This metaphor getting crazily out of hand? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-confused.gif

Very exciting bit. Nice to see Doncho stand up for himself for once.

[frogbeastegg]

Well I suppose thickness depends on how you view cuckoos, amongst other things...

Today’s part is proving interesting, I keep writing scenes then deleting them. Some things are best left referred to rather than seen, even if they are fun to write in a strangely perverse way. Those scenes showed vital things, but if included they were really…too much - too over the top, too mystery destroying, too bold, too hard to balance so all the characters came out sympathetically. I’ve finally hit on the first scene today that needs to stay put, you may see something this evening, if everything goes smoothly. I’ve already written about 7 pages today, and it’s all gone in the bin, if the pace keeps up this bit should be done today.

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ May 31 2004,19:57)]I’ve already written about 7 pages today, and it’s all gone in the bin,
Keep it. Even if it never goes in the story, it could be a useful reference point http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif - I hate having to look through all my previous pieces just to make sure, say, that Fitzjohn's hair is brown with a few greys in all four parts http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-no.gif . It's probably a good idea to keep the bits that need reffering to rather than writing about locked away in a dark corner in case they're needed.

[frogbeastegg]

April 4 1067
“So they’ve fallen out.” mused Sigtryg, “Excellent…yes, indeed excellent news. I said Nuala would be handy, and as ever I was right, even if this wasn’t what I anticipated.”
“You new orders, Lordship?” enquired Fionna.
“Margaret will be back in a few days from now, let’s watch and wait…try to keep Donchad angry with Culad. If those two are split our life’ll be far easier.”

May 3 1067
“I thought I’d find you here.” said Margaret as she sat down next to Culad under an apple tree in the orchard outside the castle. Culad said nothing, but put an arm about her waist and pulled her over until she was resting against him. Margaret continued neutrally, “I heard you got a reply from Donchad today.”
Culad spoke morosely, “He refused to come back. He says he’s already following orders, keeping Nuala well guarded at home, and to move is to risk her escaping and running off to join the frogs in the garden pond, and aiding their bid to rule the earth and take our place as God’s chosen species.”
“Let me see what I can do.”
“Do as you please, for I’m sick of trying. Some days I wonder why I bother…I wonder about dumping the title and running off elsewhere to live in peace.”
“What would you do?” asked Margaret, more amused than anything.
“Oh I don’t know, I could tend apple trees or somesuch…I like peaceful orchards.”
“The ex-duke of Ulster, living in some wooden shack in an orchard with one of the last in the Atheling royal line, along with a son who’ll grow up missing his birthright. Sounds like a disaster in the making.”
“He wouldn’t miss a thing.”
“You plan on leaving our nearly two-month-old son on the throne while we nip off?”
“Not a chance, more like he’d have the sense not to hunger after this title and its troublesome burdens.”
“As a boy you never thought being duke would be fun? All the giving orders and wearing nice clothes, conquering your foes in glorious battle? Somehow I don’t believe that.”
“You’re right, all I saw was the good, and so will GillaÍsu. I never thought I’d be forced into condemning my friend’s wife to death, only to be overturned by the crowd.” Culad’s dull mood gave way to petulant fury, “They’re damned impossible If I’d let her go in the first I’d be accused of favouritism, if I’d had her killed anyway I’d be overly harsh, if I keep the law I’m wrong, if I ignore it I’m wrong – I can’t win”
“You condemned her to show you apply the law equally to all, right?”
“Yes.” replied Culad reluctantly.
“Then you were applying it unequally, killing her to prove you’ll act the same with anybody. If she’d been some unknown peasant you’d have chosen differently. Because you backed down you’re known for keeping to the letter of the law, but showing mercy when asked with good cause, as well as listening to your people.” Culad made no reply, sinking deeper into his despondency. Margaret decided he had spent more than enough time in self pitying gloom since Donchad had left, “It’s just over a year now since we were sat here that first time, dodging the party crowds and predatory girls.”
Culad replied half-heartedly, “I wonder how that brunette’s getting on with her religious vocation, none so well I’d guess.”
“She ran away, climbed up and over the back wall of the convent with the aid of a lay servant she’d batted her eyelashes at until he forgot his comfy job. They stayed together for a bit, until she got chance to aim at a minor noble and, well you can guess the rest.”
“You let her escape? What if she’d come back after me?” asked Culad, this time with a bit more life.
Margaret smiled impishly, “What would it matter? I find the sight of a hapless, brawny duke being chased about by some fragile looking beauty rather amusing, and totally harmless as I know there’s only one suicide case – me.”
“Harmless?”
“The running keeps you fit, it also gives you something to do when you might otherwise get bored and start distracting me from my work.”
“It’s good to see all those months shut away in a dark room haven’t robbed you of your wit.” Culad put one hand on either side of her face, and kissed her ardently, unseen by Culad Margaret reached behind her and groped for a little prematurely fallen apple she had spotted lying on the ground as she walked over join him. Just as Culad leaned to catch his breath her fingers closed about the apple. As Culad moved to kiss her again she quickly grabbed his chin, pulled his mouth open and jammed the apple in, her eyes gleaming as she crowed, “I’ve kept my wit, but you’ve got complacent.”
Culad bit a chunk out of the apple, pulled a face at the tongue hurting sourness, and threw the rest away, “So much for motherhood tempering you, GillaÍsu owes me five silver pennies.”
“Our son’s not yet two months old and already you’re corrupting him”
“The bet was his idea, don’t blame me…if anything the boy’s corrupting me, for I’ve never had an interest in gambling before.”
“Why is it I now feel like I’ve got two sons, both of them badly behaved?”
“Let’s see…” he picked up one of her hands, checked it was empty and held onto it, before doing the same with the other hand and stating, “Completely disarmed.” Still holding both her hands he kissed her again. Margaret raised an eyebrow, and asked, “Completely disarmed?” and gently kicked his ankle. Culad looked rather put out, “So not completely disarmed, next time I’ll wear my thick leather boots - if they can withstand battle they can survive you easily enough.”
“Subtly is lost on boots.” observed Margaret sagely. Culad stepped around that comment, unwilling to ask what it meant, “We never did get that sunset last year, and it’s only mid morning now, so how’s about we both run off like a pair of delinquent schoolchildren for the rest of the day and wait it out?”
“And leave the castle in an uproar over its missing lord and lady?” Margaret stood and extended a hand to Culad. As he took it and clambered to his feet she said, “Only if we stay out all night too, it’s traditional to wander back early the next morning with a stupid smile on your face to infuriate those who have been out searching for you.”
“Deal, but we’ll forgo the bits involving stealing food and sleeping in a hedge, I ceased to find that adventurous when I was nine. We’ll just commander a good inn for the night. You think the patrons will complain if we boot them out?”
“Oh undoubtedly.” replied Margaret glibly, “We can buy them a drink or two first.”




She's back, really back, back properly oh joy - Margaret's back and in fine form I'm one happy froggy, I missed her terribly. None of the other characters can make up for her, I like all my main characters (yes, even Nuala has wormed her way to my heart now, right about the point Donchad nearly downed) but she is special. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/mecry.gif

Please excuse the frog joke, I just couldn't resist. Those warmongering frogs are nothing to do with me, I'm a peaceful amphibian http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/frog.gif

Axeknight - too late I binned it as soon as I decided it wasn't right, I've done that with all the bits and pieces that didn't make it to the story proper. I keep a seperate document with names, details etc in so I can keep track of minor characters...I started that when I realised :mumbles embarrassedly: I killed Ayd twice, he died when Donchad found out about Nuala being pregnant, and again recently It should have been Mathgamain who got lured to his death by Nuala. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-wall.gif

64 pages long now, and only a year and 5 months covered. So much for my original 20 page estinate for Culad's life

[katank]

good job as usual http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

I thought the falling out was merely smokes and mirrors though. Is it for real as Culad's implying?

[frogbeastegg]

Yes, they have really fallen out. Culad was trying to be just, Donchad took exception to his friend trying to hang his beloved wife, and it's all a bit of a mess. Culad's still playing duke, sending orders to Donchad to return, and Donchad is ignoring them and sending back stupid excuses (Nuala joining a froggy empire), and neither will give way as they beleive the fault is mostly the other's.

Can the situation be salvaged? Well you can probably guess, but nothing will ever be the same again...

[scooter_the_shooter]

the frog empire will come http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

[frogbeastegg]

May 24 1067
Culad was quite pleased with his parenting skills, he’d managed to keep GillaÍsu happy for some time now by pulling stupid faces, since the baby had spend most of the day crying this was a welcome relief for anyone within earshot. Beaming proudly Culad lifted his son up so they were face to face, “You’re growing fast; at this rate you’ll soon be big enough to help me crush nasty old Sigtryg, you’ll be able to ride into battle at my side and all our foes will be afeared of you.”
“Don’t fill the baby’s head with nonsense, dear.” instructed Margaret absentmindedly, once again sat at the table in the solar, buried in a pile of spy reports and letters.
Culad grinned at his son, “Don’t listen to her, she’s just a big wet blanket.”
“How very charming.”
Culad shifted his grip on the baby, and sat him on his hip, “She loves me really.” he confided. GillaÍsu scrunched his face up into a frown, Culad gently tapped his son’s nose, “She does, but I’ll not blame you for being a doubter when she ignores me so.”
“You poor thing, without a constant sop to your ego you’ll fade away. Sadly I’m busy, I hope vanishing’s not too unpleasant an experience.” remarked Margaret dryly, as she swapped her current report for a new one.
Culad pulled another funny face at his son, “And to think you said I’d cheated you when I claimed my winnings from our bet, well you’ve got your proof just now. You know what? You’re getting heavy” Culad sat down on one of the seats near the solar’s empty fireplace and perched his son on his knee, “Not only are you making my arms hurt but you’re also causing my face to ache. Strange as it may seem, son, I generally don’t look like a gargoyle naturally.”
“You could have fooled me.” Margaret assured him, rolling the report back up and stuffing it in the middle of the pile, then reaching for a small letter kept separately to the official documents.
Culad leaned his head close to his son’s, “Now’s she’s lying, either that or she’s a thing for gargoyles, since she declares me to be quite handsome in the rare unguarded moment when she decides to be nice to her poor, long suffering, abused husband.” GillaÍsu suddenly wrapped his little fist about the tip of Culad’s nose, with enough strength to make Culad wince. Carefully he tried to prise the fingers open, “He’s got a surprisingly good grip on him for such small hands.”
Margaret put her reading down and advised solemnly, “I know he can be bothersome, but don’t damage him.”
“I’d never do that.” protested Culad, still struggling to free his nose. As fast as he prised one finger away the other loose one clamped back down, making it a never ending fight. Margaret came over to rescue her husband, unpinning her hair and loosening the braids it was tied up in as she crossed the room, “Not you, I’m talking to the baby You hear that, GillaÍsu? You can play with your father all you like, but I want him back unbroken when you’re finished, for reasons I can’t understand I’m strangely fond of the daft prat.” She waved a strand of her long, dark hair to catch GillaÍsu’s attention. With practised ease she kept the strand just out of the baby’s reach, Culad took advantage of this distraction to free his nose and pulled his head back before GillaÍsu could grab anything else. Culad caught the strand of hair with his free hand, and wrapped it about his index finger, “Nice trick.”
“You aren’t the only one who likes playing with my hair, between the two of you I shall go bald.”
“Bald?” Culad spoke to his son with mock gravity, “I’m sorry son, but as I’m the oldest, and your father, I’m the one with the rights to play with her hair. Harsh I know, but that’s life. Leave the hair alone or else.”
“What is it with men and hair?” asked Margaret with the air of a long-suffering martyr.
Culad reached up and carefully rearranged a tress of hair so it ran down the centre of his wife’s face, tickling her nose, “Now I could answer that question, or then again I could not bother…guess which?”
Margaret picked up the lock between thumb and forefinger and lifted it back out of the way, “The second, it wouldn’t do for you to be helpful for once, would it now?”
“Habit of a lifetime, just like your suspicion.”
“Yes, except my suspicion serves some purpose on this earth, unlike you.”
Culad consulted with GillaÍsu, “How about we just ignore the nasty woman?” the baby’s face crumpled and he started to cry. Hurriedly Culad stood up and headed to the door, ”I’ll just give him back to the wet nurse then.” The nurse was already hurrying down the corridor outside the solar, summoned from the nursery by the loud wailing. Culad handed his son over and shut the door, and sighed in relief as the crying receded into barely audible background noise. Margaret smirked, “Fair weather father.”
“It was quite obvious the lad was hungry…or tired…or something, now you can’t expect me to do anything about that, can you? We are nobility, you know, and as such we’ve standards to live up to, and babies are something we leave to others…um, so far as that’s possible.”
“Nice excuse, it’s even true for once.”
“Anyway I can tell you’ve finally decided to pay me some attention, as you’ve shoved that stack of reports out the way. That always means you’ve come to a conclusion about something.”
“Reports come with the job, people don’t assassinate themselves you know. As it happens I do have something to say – I’m going to go visit Nuala, there’s something not right in these letters we’ve been exchanging.”
“More treason?”
“No, nothing like that, it’s like…” Margaret struggled to put her feeling into words, “It’s like she’s been crushed…gone all meek. With her help I could sort this mess between you and Donchad easily enough, but she keeps saying it’s not her place to even hint anything to Donchad. It’s a wife’s duty to obey her husband, and that’s what she will do from now on, nothing more.”
“Sounds to me as though she’s turned into a lawyer”
“Yes, I don’t like it. Either something’s scared her silly, or she’s playing cunning and using that as cover. I think…the former. This won’t do, I need her to get Donchad back here, so I’m off to pay a visit and knock some sense into her.”
“I only just got you back from your confinement, you’re not leaving me again A duke’s wife shouldn’t go running about after the marshal’s wife, let her come to you.”
“I would, but you ordered her locked up, remember?”
“I can guess where this is going – I’m not letting her go so soon”
“So I have to go to her.”
“Fine, you win – I’ll come with you, but stay a half day away from the manor. If we travel on horseback with just a small entourage we’ll be able to get there and back inside of a week. We can even call most of this a holiday. And speaking of holiday, since you’ve let your hair down…”
“Good grief”




What is it with men and hair? good question

Thanks, Caesar http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/geisha_happy.gif

EDIT: I forgot to ask, is that a vaguely believeable baby? I don't know much about them, aside from they stink, make too much noise, look like bug eyed aliens, do nothing interesting and are not compatable with frogs.

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ June 02 2004,14:50)]What is it with men and hair? good question
http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-inquisitive.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-inquisitive.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-inquisitive.gif

The baby was believeable enough.

And I assume the new geisha smilies are your doing, Froggy?

[frogbeastegg]

Quote[/b] (Axeknight @ June 02 2004,22:24)]
Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ June 02 2004,14:50)]What is it with men and hair? good question
http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-inquisitive.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-inquisitive.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-inquisitive.gif
Don't look at me like that - it's true Most men go crazy for long, loose, free-flowing hair, and I never know why. Since I have long hair I would like to know, I see the effects but don't quite understand the cause...


Quote[/b] ]The baby was believeable enough.
Good, I had this feeling it was rather um, plasticy or something...not quite right somehow. Meh, what do I know about babies anyway? I've had to look most of this stuff about pregnancy etc up anyway, now that worried my parents...serve them right, sneaking up on me while I'm working and reading my stuff http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/geishagrin.gif


Quote[/b] ]And I assume the new geisha smilies are your doing, Froggy?
The new smilies are Duke John's work, I made a joke about needing a geisha smiley holding a hairpin threateningly, anmd lo and behold he went and made one, and a few others. Since then the series has grown, just wait until I get my hands on the new winking one, there's something about that wink I love. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/geisha_happy.gif

[scooter_the_shooter]

yeah the baby was beliveable i am just suprised culad hasnt died of old age how old is he

[frogbeastegg]

Culad is only 26, this is the second comment on his age. Hmm....:goes and reads section, reads it again, then spots that the date says 1097: http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/eek.gif What a typo That's supposed to be 1067

Fixing....


http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-wall.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-wall.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-wall.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-wall.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-wall.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Margaret had taken care to arrive while Donchad was out, all the better to bend Nuala’s ear in peace. It had been several months since Margaret had last seen Nuala, but the woman who awaited her in the manor’s small solar looked tired and worn down, sat slumped in her chair like an old woman. It was scarcely believable that she was only just shy of twenty-one, Nuala looked several years older than she had at their last meeting. “Come to check on the prisoner?” she asked with a weary, knowing half smile, “No, I suppose that is unfair, you know I’m not going anywhere, so you’ve no need to check.”
“I came to see how you are, that letter was worrying.” said Margaret, sitting down even though she hadn’t been invited to.
“Really? How pleasant, such a shame you coincidentally arrived while Donchad is out, that’s not going to do me much good later.”
“I take it that is related to your baffling decision to turn into some meek thing exemplified in church sermons, but generally only found to be real when someone’s been stomped on very hard?”
“If you like.” returned Nuala listlessly. Fighting an urge to grab Nuala and shake her until her teeth fell out Margaret asked, “And that means…?”
“Why don’t you decide, and I’ll just agree with you…I’ve had a lot of practise at that recently, I’m getting good at it.”
“Alternatively you could stop wasting my time and start explaining yourself.”
“Very well. Honour. There’s your explanation of everything, one wretched little word.”
“That’s a fat lot of use – the more of my time you waste the less time I’ll have to spend bending Culad’s ear to get you released.”
“Released? You can’t free someone from a life sentence, kind of you to try though.” When she saw that Margaret didn’t understand, Nuala tiredly gestured at the room they were in, still speaking in the same lifeless monotone, “Four walls, one big window, one fireplace, two chairs, a medium sized table, a carpet hanging on the north wall, a wooden floor made up of precisely eighty-seven planks of wood, and an assortment of candles, books and other miscellaneous items that come and go. After a few days in here you slowly feel your life draining away, but you know what the worst thing is? I don’t need to be here – I can come and go as I please on our land, and that’s what Donchad would have me do.”
“So much for the obedient wife thing.”
“There are two things I won’t blindly follow on, children and roaming about, everything else…let us say the reminder of my place was a good one.”
“This doesn’t sound like Donchad.”
“I suppose the lucid reminder would be from my family, the hinted one...” Nuala trailed off, plainly unwilling to finish her thought for some reason.
Margaret frowned, unhappy with the possibility that her clear instructions to Nuala’s family had been ignored, “Is your father still meddling?”
“He’s only acting as spokesman for the whole family. He says I was sold into a profitable marriage that could have done a lot for the family in the future if I manage to get Donchad titled and given good land, but I’ve done nothing but bring the name into disrepute. His objection to Donchad as a man who brings nothing to the family still stands, and he is even more upset that Donchad allowed” Nuala plucked up enough energy to imbue the word ‘allowed’ with a hint of irony, “me to get involved in something that harmed my reputation, even worse Donchad boldly stated that he doubted me in front of the entire court. My family was paid to allow a wedding, not to ignore their honour. My father’s right, I changed my name but in the end what I do reflects onto the O’Fearghails.” she sighed, but even that had no energy in it, “Family feuds are not fun, the whole pack’s against me in this one, none are on my side.”
“I think you should start from the beginning and stop the half stories.”
“Do you? I suppose you are right. Have you any idea what it’s like, trying to stop your father and your husband killing each other? Then they both blame you for them fighting, and blame you for getting in the way so they can’t hack each other to bits, can’t win either way.”
“The beginning prompted Margaret again.
“The beginning…now where would that be?” Nuala finally gained a bit of life, “You know I’ll not tell you – I’ll show you instead. We’re going for a little trip out.”





Ok folks, this one's important. The bit I am writing now is going to be of critical importance later and for a long time in this story, it has to be spot on or things start to fall to bits. The whole thing is some 6 pages now, and that is unfinished dialogue with vague descriptions of what people are doing, aside from the bit I just posted which is finished.

I am posting section by section, as soon as I finish a part of this scene to avoid overworking things. I've got a lot to put into this, and even a tiny ommission or a line that gives the wrong impression will screw things up later. So please, don't ask about those semi vague references in the text now, almost everything is explained in the other parts of this still in progress. If I keep these bits unposted I'll be tempted to go back and tweak things, and that risks putting too much in one part, or watering things down.

At the end of all this I'll be asking questions, I will need to know what you think has happened. If I don't get it right then I'll have to write it again, and again until I do get it right.

Opinion etc, yes feel free to chime in with those whenever you want, just don't ask about things like Nuala's line “I suppose the lucid reminder would be from my family, the hinted one...” Ask about those when I tell you it's safe.

I may have all this done by tonight, it's mostly a matter of cleaning up what I have written and trying not to make it sound nice because I really do feel incredibly mean writing this. At the same time I've got to be careful not to make it too nasty, or it just isn't believable.

[Tricky Lady]

I only started reading the Mead Hall stories last week, but -My God- these are all real gems I don't have to buy books anymore, reading the Blood Red Hand, Fitzjohn and Leo the Syrian stories keep me busy reading for a while, so I say: great work to all (I have noticed that Axeknight regularly posts in this thread, so this is also for him): http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-thumbsup.gif

Congrats to you all
And now back to the Fitzjohn story http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-book2.gif

EDIT: Sorry that I don't add constructive criticism but I just wanted to express my gratitude for such fine stories... http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-smiley.gif

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (Tricky Lady @ June 03 2004,19:44)]I don't have to buy books anymore, reading the Blood Red Hand, Fitzjohn and Leo the Syrian stories keep me busy reading for a while, so I say: great work to all
Firstly, thank you, Tricky. I am truly honoured http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/ht_bow.gif

Interesting, Froggy. I await the next part, and the explainations, eagerly. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

[frogbeastegg]

A few minutes later Nuala and Margaret rode alone away from the manor, towards the fields and nearby village. Nuala remained silent, but she had perked up a bit, looking and acting her age once again. Trying to fill the ominous silence Margaret asked, “Why didn’t you arrange an escort, not even a single soul? I could have brought mine if you’ve no people to spare.”
“Who’d be fool enough to escort me?” returned Nuala lightly, a tone that did not match her words or the wary looks she kept sending about her, “Ah, you’ll see, you’ll see…well part you’ll see, the rest I’ll have to say myself.” They rode on with no more said, and Margaret found she too was looking about her warily without being too obvious about it. “What have I got myself into?” wondered Margaret, “Culad was right, I’m too suspicious for my own good…she’s wary that makes me far more so, imagining dire things ahead like a child seeing a strange shadow in the dark Nuala wouldn’t lead us out here if it were dangerous…she may be despondent and half crazy (I can’t say that It’s true though…isn’t it? That’s what you’re beginning to think, right? No, can’t be, she’s just a bit depressed, and after her ordeal who wouldn’t be? You can’t judge from a short conversation when she hints at much and gives away little – she is not even approaching mad), despondent and…and…and something I can’t quite decide on, but she isn’t suicidal.” As they rode on they drew level with a small group of peasants loaded down with bundles of firewood, the peasants stopped but didn’t stand back out of the way of the horses, forcing the two ladies to go around them. The entire group stared sullenly at Nuala, and as she rode past Margaret caught half a muttered comment. Nuala obviously heard it too, and as soon as they were passed the peasants she turned in her saddle towards Margaret and said, “From the look on your face I’m guessing you only heard half, let me fill the gaps. He said ‘damn backstabbing traitorous bitch, roaming about instead of buried six foot under where she belongs. Devil take her’n the master what saved her from a just end.’, rather eloquent for a peasant, don’t you think?”
“Why’d he take the risk of us hearing? It’s madness to court the wrath of your betters like that.”
“They don’t care, if they’re heard then nothing happens unless Donchad’s about – I let it pass. If I didn’t I’d have the whole fief to deal with, and I’m not…overly bothered by what they say.” It was obvious Nuala was lying when she said she didn’t care about the insults, and she studied the ground ahead of her horses hooves while she fought to control herself. She forced false cheer into her voice and remarked, “Anyhow they’re right - my ‘master’ did save me, although it was Fionnghualla not Sigtryg as they think.”
Margaret didn’t know what to say, “I don’t do sympathy.” she had to school her features carefully to repress a smile caused by the memory of the last time she had said that, more than a year ago, “I just don’t know what to do with upset people, mockery is far easier than salving wounds.” Margaret took a quick, look at Nuala out of the corner of her eye, and saw she was still staring resolutely at the ground. A single tear had escaped, and was trickling down her left cheek. “Damn it, if this were Culad I’d just say something insulting and he’d know I mean no harm, and it would cheer him up. If I try that on her she’ll probably burst into tears Why do I always, always get stuck with the people I can’t handle when they get upset? Why? For that matter why do I get landed with upset people anyway? Awkward, so awkward…I’ll just keep pretending I didn’t see, probably best for both of us.”
A harsh, loud voice interrupted Margaret’s thoughts, “Traitorous slut”. Cursing herself for being complacent Margaret looked about for the source of the voice, and quickly saw it. The field they were riding past had a working party in it, fixing a drainage ditch near the roadside. A short, hatched faced man, presumably the work gang leader, spat on the ground, “Go to hell where you belong, and take all your cronies with you, I piss on you” One of the workers hefted a stone in Nuala’s direction, the young woman ducked and it sailed harmlessly over her head. “Run” she shouted, kicking her horse from a sedate walk into a gallop. Margaret was slower, and a blob of mud hit her leg as she made off after Nuala. She caught up with Nuala about half a mile down the road, and they both slowed their horses back to a walk now they were safe. Margaret scraped as much of the mud off her leg and the side of her horse as she could, “I wonder if they know they just pelted the duke’s wife? No matter, it’ll not be long before they do – I’ll be able to find them again easily enough, and then we’ll see precisely who is going to hell.”
“No.” it was hard to tell who was more surprised at the firmness in Nuala’s voice, Margaret or Nuala herself. She met Margaret’s eyes and didn’t look away, and insisted, “No, you’ll let this pass. At least you’re honest enough to say you’re after their blood for your own sake, Donchad won’t even do that much.”
Margaret surprised herself by looking away first, “I think I’ve seen enough.”
“Really? But you’re missing much of it.” Nuala laughed, and at the same time finally lost control and started crying, “No one’s accused you of being my latest lover yet, but then you’re not male so you’re safe from that. No one’s suggested that since I’m condemned to death someone should go do the duke’s will; they don’t believe my reprieve was lawful so the death sentence still stands. Not a soul so far has whispered that the marshal only protects me as I cast a spell on him, so if I were to have a slight accident he’d be free and thankful. Donchad’s not here, so I’ve not had to hold him back, begging for mercy for those who attack me – he says it’s a matter of honour, my honour but I know he lies, it’s his that he’s bothered about. If I can endure the slurs so can he, but no, he won’t see it so and insists he’s protecting my name. Since he’s absent I’ve not had to endure being ignored yet again, and seeing him meting out ‘justice’ in my name. So far today I’ve not been told I can’t be right because I disagree with him, and he’s always right, oh yes my dear worshipful lord husband has decided he doesn’t like any opinion contrary to his, and he’s decided it’s the height of kindness to brush away my concerns and tell me I’ll soon see things his way. There’s been no family visit yet either, telling me I’m a shame on our name and I should’ve died rather than tried to live, and certainly no nice lecture on my duties as a wife with a few bruises to make the lesson stick. Of course when Donchad walked in on that he starts off again, and I’m left begging on behalf of my father and his companions. So you see I’ll happily stay locked away in that tiny solar, and do just as I’m told, and bow and scrape for it’s a damn sight easier.”
Feeling increasingly out of her depth Margaret said, “This all bears investigation, someone’s been playing about with minds and rumour hereabouts.”
“Oh I know that – it’s Sigtryg, playing with the peasants to make them uneasy and prone to either revolt or acts that’ll only widen the rift between duke and marshal. I’ll own my family’s the same as ever, always more about moving up in the world than anything else, and Donchad…Donchad is Donchad – stubborn and refusing to admit to something he finds distasteful. The rest is all Sigtryg’s doing.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything?” asked Margaret, exasperated.
“I’m through with asking for help.”
Margaret swore, reverting back to her native Anglo-Saxon. Realising what a spectacle she was making of herself Margaret took a deep breath to calm herself, and switched back to Irish, “You’ve gained a deal too much pride for your own good”
Nuala simply smiled, totally unremorseful and suddenly very calm, “Probably, but I’m sick of being rescued. And honestly would you have believed me?”
“No, not at all, not even if you told me the sky is blue.” thought Margaret, “You will endure it one more time – I’m ending this.”
“As you say, oh most worshipful and merciful lady.” not a thing suggested that Nuala was anything but utterly sincere, but the polite, dutiful response goaded Margaret, and she snapped, “Donchad may put up with that, but I won’t.”
Nuala’s eyes hardened, “Donchad is putting up with nothing, he insists on his due so I give it him. All or none, no carefully selected parts – if I’m to mindlessly agree with him all the time, and obediently do as he says much of the time then I’ll call him lord and all the rest too. That and hope he finally sees that maiming peasants isn’t going to make me a saint, my family’s right when they say I’m naught but an embarrassment now. If he’d just admit he’s doing this for his own reputation not mine then I could talk him into sending me away, and ending this. Until then…I’ll keep trying to stay his hand before he does something he’ll really regret. Now since you’ve tired of my life already we’ll head back home.”



One part, maybe two, left. Getting harder and harder to write now, I feel not only mean but downright cruel.

Thanks, Tricky Lady. You read, and you enjoy reading, that is all I need to know. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/geisha_happy.gif

Axeknight, well here's a part explanation, now to steel myself to finish the thing.

:takes deep breath: Ok, dialogue's done, just needs honing and descriptions adding. Don't feel mean, froggy, think tough...

[scooter_the_shooter]

wow your a good writer you should get one of your stories published some time http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

[frogbeastegg]

As soon as they arrived back at the manor Margaret ordered her escort to make ready to leave. As it would take a while to saddle all the horses, track down the missing page boy, and settle the gambling debts caused by a game of dice running in the stable forecourt Margaret consented to go with Nuala back to the solar, to wait in comfort. Nuala sent a servant to fetch food and wine, and sat down near the empty fireplace, “You wanted to do something to end this feud between our husbands, you wanted my help. Perhaps you begin to see why I won’t try to talk Donchad into anything.” Nuala clasped her hands together and rested them in her lap, distractedly picking at the knuckle of one thumb with the nail of the other, “Besides I’ve no tools to work with, not now. Some bargaining chips expire when you’re spending more time fighting than anything else bar breathing, others…you can’t bear to use.”
Margaret was beginning to wish she had left this to someone else, she offered the first platitude that came to mind, “I’m sure he still loves you.”
“And I him, but I’m beginning to see why they say marriage is best left for business and children, and love is best found elsewhere. I could just go along with things, do as he wants, but I won’t.” Nuala smiled bitterly, “Oh part of it’s stubborn pride, just as you’re thinking.” Margaret hastily denied this, but Nuala took no notice and kept talking, “Part of me refuses to give up and throw away almost everything we had. He’s digging his heels in equally, because he believes he is right, and that he is being a good man…he truly believes he is being kind to me.”
Margaret only understood about half of what Nuala said, but she wasn’t about to ask what would be lost or what the cause of this battle was in the first place. She was certain it wasn’t the peasants and their insults; they were a large part, but not the beginning of all this. The one sided account of events didn’t help much either. Trying to get back to firmer ground she said, “Can’t you even offer an idea of what I can do to patch this mess up?”
“Get Culad over here, lock them in a room together and tell them they’re not coming out until they’ve settled this. Donchad’s not happy over this falling out, so if Culad apologises, and means it, he’ll forgive him.” The door to the room opened, and Donchad walked in. “Your escort’s ready to leave.” he announced coolly, his eyes searching the scene for any clue on what they had been saying. Margaret took her leave quickly, but dawdled outside the solar door as it closed, curious to see if her suspicions on Donchad’s cool reception were correct. She just had time to hear him say “Now what have you done?” before a servant arrived to show her out.





One more part, the hardest, and most critical, of all.

Thanks, Caesar, that's the hope. One day with more practise maybe, just maybe I might manage it. This story here works quite nicely as a rough draft for a proper novel, if I were to go back and really polish it and add in many more scenes to fill the gaps, and tweak everything so it worked as a proper world instead of a game, then maybe...

[frogbeastegg]

“Now what have you done?” demanded Donchad.
The question met with the same answer, in the same tired tone of voice, as it always did, “Nothing.”
“Spymasters don’t travel to the other end of Uliad for no reason.”
“She was here trying to make peace between you and Culad.”
“Then why’d she see you and not me? Now what’re you hiding?”
Nuala shut her eyes, suddenly overcome by weariness, “Not this again, I’m not even going to bother answering since you don’t trust a word I say.”
“You’re the one who brings it up first each and every time, though you blame me for it. I keep telling you I do trust you, if only you’d think a bit on what I say instead of making overhasty conclusions all the time” A knock on the door interrupted them. Donchad crossed the room in a few quick strides and opened it to find a servant had brought a tray with the wine and food Nuala had ordered earlier. He took the tray from the servant and knocked the door shut again with his elbow. As he carried the tray over to the table Nuala quietly said, “You walk in here and the first thing you do is accuse me of doing something that merits the attention of a spymaster. How is that trust?”
Donchad poured himself a glass of wine, “I leave you alone to your own devices even after all this, how’s that not trust? You should be content you even got the chance to see guests without my say so first.”
“You leave, you fret endlessly about what I’m doing, and always the first thing you do is accuse me. You ask the servants what I’ve been doing whenever you’re not about to see for yourself.”
“It may seem so to you, but not to me, I say you’re wrong again and overhasty.”
Nuala sighed heavily, “Whatever you say, my lord.”
“Jesu Not that again” Donchad’s grip on his glass tightened, threatening to crush the fragile thing.
Nuala resigned herself to repeating the same old argument yet again, “I told you all or nothing, if I’m to senselessly agree with you all the time then I’ll do all the rest whether you like it or not.”
“Now there’s a contradiction in terms, you’re supposed to be doing all this to please me, or so the world claims.” he took a sip of wine, and studied her over the rim of his glass, thinking out aloud, “Since you’re supposed to obey me without question by the rules of your own game – I order you to stop this.”
“That would be a grave dereliction of the proper courtesies, and it would insult you in the eyes of the world. I know how touchy you are about other’s opinions.”
“When they fall on you, not I.”
“Will you ever stop that pretence? You’re bothered because whatever’s said about me reflects onto you, and you’re touchy about being married to a condemned traitor-”
“Don’t say it” commanded Donchad loudly, “As ever you’re wrong and too hasty in judging me. I’m protecting your reputation, just as I saved your life, and look at the thanks I get.”
“If you say so, my lord.”
Donchad lost his temper and hurled his glass to the floor, where it shattered and wine spilled out over the floorboards in a crimson stain. He watched as the wine began to soak into the wood, forcing himself to calm down “Now look what you made me do.”
“I beg your pardon then, my lord, the fault is obviously mine as you are always correct.”
Donchad bit back his furious response, once gain fighting to master his anger. Through clenched teeth he said, “I wonder how far your meek act will go? No doubt you’ll return to normal if I claim my rights.”
There was a slight pause before Nuala admitted the obvious, “You know I can’t refuse, just as you can’t refuse if I claim mine.”
“Hah That seems more than unlikely, you’ve no interest in me now.”
Donchad had chosen his trap with care, and Nuala could see no way out of it. If she agreed then she was a liar, and they’d be fighting over that, if she didn’t agree she would give him an excuse to start a new line of fighting. Dully she bowed to the inevitable, “That’s not true.”
“I’ll take that as an invitation then.” replied Donchad lightly.
“That was an unworthy thing to do.” she reproached quietly.
Donchad laughed, “Yes, and yet somehow I don’t care.”
“If you say so. Now with my lord’s permission I think I’ll retire early tonight.”
“Early? Exceptionally early more like. Fine, go, I’ll see you later.”
Nuala stood up, and said with absolute certainty, “I doubt that, you don’t go where you’re not welcome.”
“I have your invitation, remember?”
“An extorted invitation from a question I couldn’t answer otherwise.”
“But an invitation none the less. Later.” Nuala’s certainty wavered, and she all but fled the room. Donchad rose and poured himself another glass of wine, using the spare glass still on the tray, emptied it in one go and poured another, “Damn her, got me coming and going, whatever I do she’ll win Either empty threats or an excuse for her to hate me, damn her She was supposed to back down. Now what?” He swirled the wine about in his glass, staring glumly into the depths of the liquid, “I can always get drunk, if I pass out everything’s left nicely ambiguous…” Donchad emptied his glass and poured the rest of the jug out, and gulped that down too, before telling himself, “Excellent idea, yes indeed, now where’d I leave that brandy...”




And that would be the final part. I think I'll give Donchad a chance to air his own view, but that can wait until tomorrow. It'll only be a small bit, some ambiguity is good and the scene has a lot of other important stuff to do anyway. Not to mention he gets air time later...

I guess I may as well start my survey now; it's vital that I get this right, so please be honest:

Who's fault is this, mostly? Nuala, Donchad or both.

Does one side pull ahead in the sympathy stakes? (one side may be intended to, or not)

Believeable transition from what they were before, or not?

Any hope left for them patching this up, or is it basically over?

The original cause would be...?

Donchad - mostly harmless or will he actually get violent if he loses his temper?

Nuala and the family, does she like them or not?

Any questions?

[katank]

would blame Nuala.

her meek acts drives me to distraction also.

can we get back to good old fashioned head bashing soon?

I've a feeling that poor Donchad isn't cut out for this domestic combat but rather actual combat.

[The Wizard]

Quote[/b] (Tricky Lady @ June 03 2004,18:44)]I only started reading the Mead Hall stories last week, but -My God- these are all real gems I don't have to buy books anymore, reading the Blood Red Hand, Fitzjohn and Leo the Syrian stories keep me busy reading for a while, so I say: great work to all (I have noticed that Axeknight regularly posts in this thread, so this is also for him): http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-thumbsup.gif

Congrats to you all
And now back to the Fitzjohn story http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-book2.gif

EDIT: Sorry that I don't add constructive criticism but I just wanted to express my gratitude for such fine stories... http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-smiley.gif
Hmm hmm, working on that third chapter... been real busy the last few days http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-wall.gif



~Wiz http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/barrel.gif

[Axeknight]

Gotta blame Nuala. Even though she had good reason to start spying for Siggy, she was still convicted as a spy. So old Donch has to keep close tabs on her. Yet she acts as though he's being unreasonable. The horse went, and she hates him (*EDIT* she doesn't hate him, but she's making a big deal out of it) for locking the door. She is the one being unreasonable. No matter the reason, she did what she did, and she has to face the consequences.

And I must agree with Kat, the 'meek and humble housewife' act is really annoying. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/angry.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Ok, so I threw a collection of hairpins at assorted targets and I either hit the bullseye or nearly hit it with each and every one. Good. Things are set up nicely for the future. EDIT:If anyone's interested I did the same survey in the Paradox (http://www.europa-universalis.com/forum/showthread.php?p=2952025#post2952025) version of this, there's some slight variation in reader opinions on some matters, but on the whole they are close enough.

Funny how politeness can really make you want to knock someone's teeth out, she has that effect on me too.

katank, there's a splitting head in the next part and a fight in the one after that. War is looming, ready to flare up in a few months...

Some news I broke a while back on the Paradox forums, but keep forgetting to repeat here: My save games are gone, vanished into the mists without warning. I can finish Culad's life with events from the game lending structure, but his heir only gets half a lifetime. I either end this with Culad's death, with the big achievement of his heir, or keep going after that achievement running solely on imagination.

Now back to work on the next part.

[frogbeastegg]

Sigtryg read the latest report from Uliad with great satisfaction; everything was going swimmingly. The peasants were uneasy with Nuala because of his agents and their rumours, the truth had been embellished so effectively that the serfs were willing to risk their safety in their relentless quest to remove one they thought practically the devil in human form. Donchad was slowly making himself hated and feared for his treatment of all he caught slandering his wife; strangely people object to being thrown out of their homes and away from their only means of support, left to travel to the nearest town and beg for their bread. Nuala was falling to pieces under the burden, which in turn greatened the stress on her turbulent marriage, thus making Donchad even more upset and therefore unlikely to make peace with Culad. And that left Uliad with a divided leadership and weakened greatly. The only danger was in Culad lowering himself and apologising to his cousin, and Sigtryg was certain hell would freeze over before his prideful liege bend his neck. The pot was heating nicely, just a little longer in the flame and then he could plunge it into cold water, shattering it into a thousand pieces in one decisive action.

The next day Culad went to see Donchad himself, only half due to Margaret’s urging; if the duke was honest with himself he missed his cousin greatly. His arrival in the middle of the morning caused quite a stir, the servants couldn’t decide whether to let him in, turn him away or make him wait while they asked their master what to do. Each servant deferred to his superior, passing the responsibility safely away from themselves, all the while leaving Culad and his escort waiting at the gate. In the end the steward himself was dragged out, and he found there was only one person left to pass the problem to – Donchad himself. After a brief absence the steward came running furiously back, flapping his arms at the cluster of people waiting to hear what was to be done, and trying to both shout and gasp for breath at the same time, “Let him in Have you no manners, letting the duke of Ulster wait outside like a beggar?”
“Still welcome after all.” thought Culad, “This might be easier than I dared hope.” He dismounted, and gave the reins of his horse to a stable boy, then followed the steward into the main building, to Donchad’s private room. His cousin had kept the room in half darkness; the shutters were only open a tiny crack. Even by this feeble light Culad could see Donchad looked ashen faced and worse for wear, lying fully dressed on his bed looking for all the world like a corpse awaiting a coffin. As the door shut quietly behind the duke Donchad winced, clutching his head with one hand. Unable to resist Culad cheerfully said, “My, my, you’re in fine health cousin”
“Don’t shout.” mumbled Donchad, “If you’re wanting me dead just keep talking loudly enough and my head’ll split.”
“Truly? But you’re looking so dandy and hale, I’m having a hard time believing that.”
Donchad groaned, “You’re a right evil bastard Culad, you know that?”
“Oh yes, but then I’m what you might call insensitive, for I’ve the constitution of an ox and unlike some I can handle a drink or two.”
“Oh the drink or two were no problem, the jug of wine went down nicely, the few glasses of brandy were pleasant enough, the mead was a fine treat...it was the cider that finished me.” Donchad reached out with one hand and fumbled for a pair of letters that were tucked under his pillow, and then tossed them over to Culad, “Here, read them, you’ll not be saying I neglected my loyalty again.” Culad walked over to the window and opened the shutters properly; the flood of light was matched by a flood of swearing from Donchad. Ignoring his cousin Culad examined the two letters, one had been opened but the other’s seal was still intact. Donchad’s muffled – he had his face buried in his hands in a vain effort to block out the light - voice instructed him, “Read the opened one first, and can you not breathe more quietly?” Culad folded the opened letter out and begin to read; Don’t let Donchad settle for anything less than count of Tir Eoghain. Remember Culad needs him; if you hint that’s what it will take to patch this rift then that’s what he’ll give. You’ve had some success already, but a new fief’s not enough to repair the damage you’ve done to our name. You’ve got a lot to make up for. Don’t fail.
“That’ll be my dear father-in-law, once again meddling away in his daughter’s life. The other’s her reply, it’ll be assuring him she’s keeping family interests above all, and that she’ll make sure I’ll be count soon enough. She gave it to a servant, but I’m careful to intercept all her letters, inbound or out.”
Culad used his dagger to break the seal on the second letter, and opened it. He read it in silence, and then held the piece of parchment out to Donchad, “Read it.”
Donchad was going to protest that he didn’t need to, but something about Culad’s manner made him take the letter and read the single line that made up the message though bleary eyes. I told you before – no. I will not run your errands any longer.
“You’re being overly harsh.” commented Culad neutrally.
The marshal rolled over and dragged the pillow over his head, “And you’d be an expert at such, that’s how you spot it so easily. That’s all I’ve got to say to you, so get out of my house.”
Culad strode over to his kinsman and pulled the pillow away and threw it carelessly over his shoulder, “I came here to bring you back to court - we’ve still got Sigtryg to take care of. We’ll be doing that together or not at all, and it’d be such a shame to let his meddling to unpunished.”
Donchad sat up, battling to keep his stomach contents down as the room spun and weaved about him, “Oh really, sure, why not? I’ll just forget you tried to have my wife hung; it was all a big laugh anyway, my old friend and trusted kinsman. Nuala’s not minding much either, I mean it’s not like I once told her if ever I died you’d take good care of her, oh wait – I did tell her that”
“It was Sigtryg’s doing, he set us up-”
“Ah yes, I’m forgetting the bit where Sigtryg disguised himself as you and held a nice court trial that judged her guilty”
“She is guilty”
“And how’s that matter?” yelled Donchad, his delicate head forgotten, “Really, how’s that matter? You tell me what difference that makes when all’s said and done”
“You’re blinding yourself to the truth, she’s guilty of treason – treason that put everything at risk, and remember if I fall to Sigtryg you do to
“Details, nothing more. You could have said she was under such duress it mattered not what she did.”
“It’d have been a lie. I was wrong, that much I’ll own, but wrong in trying to have her killed, I should have handed her over to you from the start.”
“And how would that have made a difference? Aside from making you look less like some weakling who gets overruled with ease, and lessening the sting of this? I’d still be in this same position.”
“Donchad, what you’re in now isn’t so bad. Look at it with open eyes, and stop trying to find more adversity than is real. All you need to do is stay close to Nuala and report any suspicious activity, before you’d have been happy to have reason to stay in her company at all times. You don’t need to be out of the court or any such penance, hell with a little thought you could even turn this to your advantage and call it a break. I’d be thankful for the chance to spend more time with my family and forget about business myself, so I envy you somewhat.”
Donchad staggered to his feet and spoke quietly but vehemently, punctuating each statement by jabbing his cousin in the chest with his finger, “I’m the marshal who can’t even keep control of his own wife. I’m so soft I let her do as she pleases; I’m so weak she manipulated me into betraying you; she’s a traitor so I probably am too. If she’s an adulteress what does that say of me? They’ll call me Donchad the Meek any day now, who fears a marshal so named?”
Culad was forced back under his cousin’s onslaught, rubbing his bruised chest he put distance between them, “Now you’re talking rubbish”
“That’s what they must be saying, I hear them speak of her so badly, and it’s only a small leap of mind to see that if she’s like they say then I’m…pathetic.” Culad mutely dismissed his cousin’s statement, not even dignifying it with a spoken rebuff. Donchad dropped back onto the bed, sat hunched over with his hands dangling between his knees, “It’s true, they must be saying that…and all I can do is keep on quashing gossip, claiming I’m doing it for her so as not to draw attention to the true reason. She’s not content with that, she knows what I’m doing but insists on hearing me say it, and that I won’t do, I don’t see why I should make a fool of myself even if it is just in her company. Just as I’ll die before I admit I don’t trust her an inch – and who can blame me for not trusting after all this?”
“No one.” agreed Culad, “But all the same I don’t see why you can’t tell her-”
“And I don’t see why she’s so bothered, how hard is it to be silent?”
“Maybe she’s none too happy with all you’re doing in her name?”
“I’ve told her it’s for her benefit.”
“You told her that you’re cracking skulls in her name for her own good, when you both know it’s a lie, and you’ve not asked her if she minds?” ventured Culad cautiously, not wanting to spark Donchad’s temper again.
Donchad sat up straighter, suddenly confidant, “She’ll see things my way eventually, then this’ll be settled without making me look the fool.”
Culad bit back his instinctive reply – that endlessly denying the obvious didn’t make it go away - in favour of a more diplomatic reply, “So why not come back with me, brazen it out in the middle of the court, then go to war once again and prove you’re still worthy of the marshal’s place? A little vengeance on Sigtryg for his meddling, a chance to prove your valour once again, and with all the fuss over the victory this’ll soon be forgotten. Get back to the court, and away from the poisoned tongues that wag out here, Margaret’s working on quietening them for it’s Sigtryg’s influence once again that’s causing such a stir.”
Donchad made no reply for a long time, so long that Culad’s patient waiting turned into impatience. Just as he was about to prompt his cousin Donchad spoke of his own accord, “Back to court then, we’ve a levy to train and much to do afore we can place Sigtryg’s head on a pike where it rightfully belongs.” Culad made his excuses and left. Finally, almost in a whisper Donchad said the unspeakable, “What kind of a man hides behind his wife when things go wrong? For that’s what I’m doing.”

June 1 1067
Fionna didn’t dare deliver the news personally; instead she wrote a quick note, handed it to a servant, and immediately left on an emergency trip to visit her ‘sick’ mother, a good seventy miles away. Lordship, it is my solemn duty to report that Donchad is back at Culad’s court, arriving this morning if my estimates are accurate. Culad turned our campaign of slander against us, and Donchad is taking to the field to prove his worth. He is still arguing with Nuala, we may be able to take advantage of this…may I suggest provoking an obvious, public quarrel between them, and then disposing of him during the night? We can ascribe it to a furious wife, pushed beyond her limits. This will be more credible if we remove Nuala from the scene and place her safely in ‘refuge’ here. Fionna’s letter was delivered to the count just as she was riding out the gate; all in the castle could hear Sigtryg’s scream of incandescent rage as it echoed from bailey to dungeon. As she galloped out of the gate with all her portable possessions stowed in her saddlebags Fionna decided that a lovely trip to Scotland might be just the thing to restore her mother’s health…



Gah, a day of interruptions I hope this makes sense, I've checked it over as best I can but people keep appearing and disrupting my train of thought. I just can't write if there are other people about, nor can I read my own work. I could have had this done in an hour if the house was empty, instead it's taken all day

EDIT: Things are looking promising - already I've found two giant coding errors and a few typos http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/geisha_angry.gif

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ June 05 2004,20:29)]EDIT: Things are looking promising - already I've found two giant coding errors and a few typos
I was about to say something, but you fixed it

Interesting, Fionna's a spy, huh? Wait... Yes, of course she is :confusedg:

Try again:
Interesting, Fionna's a traitor, huh? Wait... Is it Fionna who was Margaret's standin? Or Fiongulla? Gah Irish gaelic names are so confusing


I liked the part where Donch and Culio thrash out their differences and begin to sort it out. Very atmospheric, quite tense, actually, there was always the suspicion one of them's gonna flip and get violent. Excellente http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Fionna is Sigtryg's (ex) spymaster, now on holiday (aka fleeing the sinking ship). Fionnghualla is Culad's spare spymaster, replacing Margaret when she is unable to aovid that handy tradition of shutting pregant women up in a dark, hot, stuffy room for a few months before and 40 days after the birth. This is usually called confinement, and it is supposed to be excellent for your health. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/geishablank.gif

You are not the first to have problems with names, I'll put together a character list. The question is where do I put it? The list will need to be updated as the story prgresses... Ideas? I think at the beginning of the topic, under the title and before the story itself begins.

EDIT: Joyousness - another error, now tweaked. Donchad's supposed to be saying it must be true that people are talking about him, not that what they say is true If he thought hat I think he'd be dead drunk, as in drunk and dead.

[frogbeastegg]

Principle Characters
In the court of Uliad.
Culad of Uliad (also called Culad the Lusty): duke of Ulster and Our Hero.
Donchad of Uliad (also Donchad the Incautious): marshal, and all round reckless maniac.
Margaret Atheling: one of the last two members of the Saxon Atheling royal family. An acquired taste.
Nuala O’Fearghails: courtier. Wishing for a quiet life, but she needs a better fairy godmother.
Fionnghualla: sometimes spymaster, other times courtier, always a bitch
GillaIsu: an early gambler
DubEssa: in possession of a cute smile
Ayd: steward
Gofraid: chancellor, bald.
Tagd: courtier
Toirrdelbach: courtier
Mathgamain: courtier, eventually steward
Seoán: courtier
Enna: captain of the watch in Culad’s army
Eogan: second in command of Culad’s infantry
Pilib: captain of Culad’s cavalry unit
Tomas: eventually second in command of Culad infantry
Dunsleive: married to Fionnghualla, God save him Donchad’s elder brother

Enemies of Ulster
Aed O’Neill: count of Tir Eoghain, caught between a rock and a hard place
Connor: marshal to Aed
Sigtryg: count of Tir Connail, rebellious vassal, and debonair villain.
Fionna: spymaster to Sigtryg, the kind of girl your mother warned you about.
Brigida: Sigtryg’s wife, not at all distressed at being snatched from her intended and very happy indeed as countess. Really. This is true.
Éicnechán: eventually marshal to Aed
Roolb: eventually marshal to Sigtryg
Niall: wishing he was Sigtryg, because then he’d get his bride back

Assorted others
Conchbar: Duke of Dublin, so old he may be a fossil
Mael-Isu: bishop of Mide and vassal of Conchbar. Big Bad Bishop.
Imag: Mael-Isu’s mistress
Énrí: Mael-Isu’s son?
Cristina, Derbáil, Brigit and Una: too pretty for their own good
Mor: a redhead, daughter of one of Culad’s knights
The O’Fearghails: a family with ambition and, um more ambition
A brunette: trouble
A boy: slippery as an eel
A pedlar: actually a evil, cunning agent™ of Sigtryg’s
Assorted peasants: grubby
A gaggle of lady’s maids to assorted ladies: giggly
A big helping of assorted personal servants, squires etc: being useful in a way that makes them indispensable (they hope)
Assorted soldiers in various armies: dead or getting there
Assorted messengers: usually arriving at just the wrong time…
Assorted menial servants: busy in a lazy kind of way
A handful of wetnurses: left holding the baby(s)
A midwife: formidable


One bunch of characters, to be updated as new faces appear. I have also stuck a copy in at the beginning, that is the version which will be updated.

[scooter_the_shooter]

keep up the good work http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

[frogbeastegg]

June 4 1067
“Culad has summoned his entire court, we’re both going whether you like it or no.” said Donchad firmly, opening the door that lead from their rooms out into the corridor and holding it open for his wife.
Nuala didn’t move, “If I go then someone will pass comment, then you’ll take offence. It’s better I stay here.”
“No, you’ll come along on my arm and you’ll laugh and mingle and all that, as if you’re never away because to do otherwise will only fuel talk.”
“I fuel talk no matter what I do, but if I remain here-”
“You can either walk or be dragged, I care not which.”
“You wouldn’t.”
In three quick strides Donchad was close enough to grab hold of her arm and start dragging her towards the door, gripping her tightly enough to make Nuala wince. Stumbling along behind him she tried to prise his iron grip open. Donchad kept walking so quickly she was half running to keep up, without even slowing he caught her other hand, “I’ll let you go when you decide to behave.”
“You’re damn near breaking my arm”
Donchad halted and let go of her immediately, and offered awkwardly, “I didn’t realise…sorry.” He took a few more steps towards the audience chamber, and noticed she was still unmoving. He turned, “Well?”
“No, I won’t be an excuse for yet more fighting.”
“Jesù You would test the patience of a saint” Donchad stormed back to her side, seized hold of her elbow, and started off once more towards the audience chamber with her half running, half stumbling at his side.

The audience chamber was nearly full; except for Culad and his wife, Donchad and Nuala were the last to arrive. The other courtiers had dispersed into small groups, chatting away. Donchad let go of Nuala almost absentmindedly, his attention had been attracted by a small group of people who were laughing loudly. The cause of the laughter appeared to be Seoán; the younger man had his back to the door and was waving his arms about animatedly as he spoke. As Donchad got close enough to overheard his already bubbling temper boiled over, as he crossed the room it seemed all he could hear was Seoán, “Yes, so he’s back, our grass-sworded marshal. I’ve heard tell that pretty little wife of his got bored, and that’s why she turned traitor, hardly surprising is it? Yoked to that cumbersome oaf-” Donchad grabbed the man by his shoulder and spun him around, catching him with a punch to the face as he turned. Seoán reeled back, clutching at his jaw, and the marshal wrapped both of his hands about Seoán’s neck, throttling him. Several nearby men joined the fray, trying to pull the two apart, but they found, just as Nuala had earlier, that Donchad’s grip was too strong. Seoán was beginning to turn purple, and his struggles were growing weaker, when someone took drastic action by coshing Donchad over the head with a dagger pommel. Stunned, Donchad lost his grip and Seoán collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. Bodies quickly imposed themselves between Donchad and his target, but the marshal was back in control of himself, “You have my challenge, you name the date and weapons. To the death.”
Seoán struggled to his feet, spitting out a loose tooth, and managed to gasp hoarsely, “Lance and horse, then swords.” before he was helped away to the castle’s physician.

Nuala found herself pushed to the edge of the room by the fuss over the fight, and was less than happy to find herself pounced upon by Fionnghualla. “I see my prediction on your little spat was quite accurate.” said Fionnghualla almost amicably. Nuala kept her silence, determined not to be baited. Fionnghualla looked pointedly towards Donchad, who was now leaving the room himself, and suggested, “You’re losing him.” Nuala bit her lip, Fionnghualla shrugged her shoulders, “So much for your happy bliss.” Quiet. “Much more of this and he’ll begin to hate you, and you him.” though the effort was costing her Nuala remained silent. “If you don’t do something soon then he’ll be back trying to steal Culad’s nickname, and I’d rather he didn’t…I do prefer not to have to read reports on such matters, it makes my stomach turn.”
“Then you’ll not be troubled, for you’re not spymaster now. Margaret’s back, and you’re out of a job.” replied Nuala through clenched teeth, reluctant to reveal just how much the idea of Donchad chasing other women upset her.
“Only temporarily; they’ve got one baby, and babies have an alarming tendency to die – an heir and a spare, sound familiar? Rest assured I’ll be back filling her shoes sometime. It’s in my best interests that you do something before it is too late…” Fionnghualla paused, and volunteered something that she considered mortifying, “Though it makes me question my sanity for even considering this, it is in both of your best interests too.” Nuala was shocked, her sister-in-law actually sounded sincere. Fionnghualla hurriedly tried to restore her credibility, “It’s not like I’m fond of either of you, or anything like that, so don’t get big ideas – not that big ideas could cram themselves into your tiny skull. It is purely self interest; I have quite enjoyed playing with you and, although I find it somewhat embarrassing to admit, I’ve enjoyed fishing you out of the stews you get yourself into…taking on Sigtryg is far more invigorating than staying at home watching Dunsleive creep about like a cat that expects to be kicked up the backside. This is just another stew, and I’ll not let you spoil my fun. Do something before he disposes of you.”
“I tried.” Fionnghualla impatiently waved at her to explain, “There’s much of this I don’t mind, the inevitable fallout…it’s understandable and I’d be more bothered if he wasn’t suspicious and all. It’s the way…the way he just ignores everything I say, I have to agree with him all the time or he...” Nuala unconsciously rubbed her hurt arm; it was beginning to bruise already.
“You’re fighting a losing battle, and you’ll not win – ever.” said Fionnghualla, almost kindly, “Now I’ll tell you a small tip I learned the hard way; start as you mean to go on. It’s too late for you to stand up for yourself, you can kick all you like, but your hands are neatly tied and have been since before you even got that nice ring on your finger. Any attempt to change the status quo – and you’ll admit you generally go along with what he says – will be seen as unreasonable rebellion. You’ll find it’s so pronounced now because he’s upset over your escapades, suddenly everything you do could be dangerous; not to mention he thinks you’re only disagreeing to upset him, there’s no validity in your words because they’re said to hurt.”
“That’s not true.”
“But you say them so they are. I’m rather pleased to find you do have claws; you’re doing tolerably for a mere novice. The only way you’ll get out of this as something other an a repudiated wife is if you stop fighting, swap the meek act for real meekness – give him what he wants. So there’s your choice, decide what’s more important – your pride or him.” Fionnghualla swept away to talk to someone else. Nuala stared at the floor, thinking on her sister-in-law’s words. “And missing from that equation is my happiness, but I suppose that matters little to yon old trout…or anyone else for that matter.”



As you can tell the next part will feature brains spattering all over the place; poor Monk'll have a hard time cleaning up again, and bloodstains are so hard to shift.

Thanks, caesar http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wave.gif

[frogbeastegg]

The next day dawned as an overcast, miserable day with intermittent drizzle. Only a handful of keen spectators had turned out, few were willing to get soaked even to watch Donchad’s famous skill in mortal combat. At one side of the field Donchad stood, nearly fully armed and armoured, talking to Culad as he waited for Seoán to arrive. “You’re not best at mounted combat, it’s the least of your many great skills.” Culad phrased his doubt in a way that didn’t cast a shadow over Donchad’s ability; the rift between them was too new and raw to be sure he’d not cause offence if he spoke more freely.
“I’ll be fine.” Donchad dismissed the thought easily; “I learned a few good tricks while I was in Scotland and in service to my mother’s brother. That boy’ll not get the best of me, not unless I’ve got both hands tied behind my back and no weapons.” Seoán made his appearance at the far side of the field, wearing full armour and already mounted on his destrier. Culad clapped his cousin on the shoulder, “Well that’s my cue, and I’m off. Good luck, not that you’ll need it.” Donchad turned back to collect his helmet and other sundry equipment, and to his great surprise he saw his squire was gone. Nuala shyly held out his conical helmet, Donchad took it and said neutrally, “So you’ve disposed of my squire, now there’s a surprise.”
“Be careful, don’t get yourself killed.” The sincerity in her voice brought a lump to Donchad’s throat, much to his displeasure. He hadn’t thought to be fighting with a preoccupied mind, but now he’d be unable to stop wondering at this sudden change in attitude. He gestured towards his knife, and said gruffly, “My dagger.” Nuala picked the long, brutal looking weapon up from the arms rack, and moved to fasten it at its correct place on Donchad’s belt. Quickly he took the weapon from her; she snatched her hand back as though she had been stung, thinking he didn’t want her help. Donchad thrust the dagger through his belt on the left side, so the hilt was just above the hilt of his sword, “I’ve a need to wear it on the wrong side.” he explained, “You’ll see, and if you’d find your way to a bit of appreciative applause when I demonstrate why I’d be gratified.” He moved towards his waiting warhorse, then checked to ask, “I suppose…I suppose a kiss for luck’s out of the question?”
“You inconsiderate bastard, thinking of yourself as usual.” she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Donchad beamed broadly, “I take it you’ve forgiven me whatever it is I’m supposed to have done?”
Nuala selected her words with incredible care, not wanting to lie, but unable to say she hadn’t forgiven him, “I don’t want to lose you.” That, at least, was very true. This apparently satisfied Donchad, and he swung up into his high fronted and backed war saddle, holding out his hands for his shield and lance. Nuala handed them up, and Donchad rode over to the middle of the field where Seoán already waited. Culad stood in the middle of the small group of spectators, “Since I can’t dissuade you from wasting your lives you’d best get on with it, some of us have other things to be doing today.” he paused, thinking blackly to himself, “Margaret and I were planning a day off, but that’s had to be forgot, thank you very much indeed”, “To the death you agreed, but I’ll insist quarter is given if it’s asked for, I do have a war when I feel the time’s right; two attached heads are better than one.”
The two men saluted Culad, dipping their lance points then raising them again so they pointed skywards. They encouraged their mounts into a walk, headed away from each other, setting up enough space for a good charge. Donchad held his lance in an awkward grip more suited to throwing than couching for the charge, as though unfamiliar with the weapon. As soon as he saw Seoán begin to move back in his direction Donchad touched his spurs to the flanks of his horse, and started forward, bringing his large shield about in front of him covering his entire left side. He struggled to lower the lance to the proper position with his poor grip, then kicked his horse to a gallop. Seoán did the same, couching his lance and aiming towards Donchad’s heart as the two men thundered closer. As soon as they hit medium distance Donchad flipped his lance up into throwing position, and launched it right into Seoán’s face at what was now very close range; the missile impacted with his opponent’s shield, tearing a jagged hole through it, spraying wooden splinters into the air. Donchad didn’t see this; the instant he released his lance he started sliding down the right side of his horse to allow his opponent’s weapon point to skim harmlessly through he air where his chest was a few brief second ago. As they passed each other Donchad heard Seoán swear loudly, then they were past each other, carried on by the momentum of the charging horses. Donchad sat up tall in his saddle again, drawing his dagger and turning his destrier back towards his enemy, once again charging right at him at full speed. He balanced the dagger carefully, and threw it over arm; it hit Seoán’s horse full in the chest, and the animal screamed and floundered, falling over with its legs flailing in its death throes. Seoán nimbly leapt free before the horse touched the ground, escaping unhurt from what could have been a fatal fall. Donchad slowed his mount to a walk, and drew his sword slowly, menacingly and started to head towards his disadvantaged foe. The parts of Seoán’s face that were unguarded by his helmet and mail coif were dripping with blood; he’d caught a face full of splinters. His left arm hung limply, and his shoulder was oozing blood from a deep wound from the lance point, which was still embedded in the wound, broken off from the shaft. There was no doubting his fear; Seoán knew he was as good as dead. Donchad slowly trotted up to him and called out loudly enough for the witnesses to hear, “Beg my pardon loud enough for all to hear, and I’ll spare you.” Seoán looked up at him, his eyes filled with hate, as they both knew he could muster no more than a hoarse squeak. Donchad lowered his sword point to threaten Seoán’s neck, and said “Last chance.” Seoán opened his mouth, to ask as loudly as he could, then reconsidered and grinned, raising his chin slightly; deciding to die with dignity rather than waste his time trying to save his life when it was plainly forfeit. Donchad thrust his blade forward, and with a flick of his wrist ripped Seoán’s throat away. He wiped his sword blade on his saddlecloth and rode back to disarm. As he slid down from his saddle he said to Nuala, “Simple enough, and I think he’ll not be saying such things about you again.” Nuala wanted to scream, “What a waste, what a God forsaken waste You expect me to thank you for slaughtering that man and his horse in my name?”, instead she made herself to smile and said weakly, “Yes. Thank you.” Donchad unlaced his helmet and tossed it to one side, “I knew you’d see all my way.”
She nearly choked on the words, but forced them out anyway, “Yes, I was…wrong. Entirely. About everything.” her will buckled, and she quickly added, “Except the children.” then clamped her teeth on the rest she’d like to say. She was here, after all, to make peace between them. Donchad laughed and pulled her close to him, heedless that his chain mail was digging into her skin, “Then I’ll plant a garden of pennyroyal just to make you happy; it’s a pretty flower anyway.”





Place your bets; will Nuala get sick of the cost of peace, or will Donchad get bored with his meek wife? Who's going to break first? Before anyone asks, yes Nuala is being totally sincere there, she has given up the fight because she still loves Donchad and doesn't want to lose him. Just in case that isn't already crystal clear. That still doesn't make Donchad the automatic winner of the bet, she could slowly begin to hate him because of this. I know I would, and not so slowly either.

Allow me to say that right at the end there I'd have thumped Donchad as hard as possible, before dumping him in the dust and telling him to rot in hell What a complete and utter selfish ass who assumes far too much

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ June 06 2004,23:30)]“Beg my pardon loud enough for all to hear, and I’ll spare you.” Seoán looked up at him, his eyes filled with hate, as they both knew he could muster no more than a hoarse squeak.
Ooh, what a git. Doncho's going off the rails with the avenging the lady's honour thing. Culad told him to accept quarter, but did he? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-no.gif

Nice part

[frogbeastegg]

August 12 1067
The small town dock was busy with sailors loading up a passenger ship for a voyage over to Brittany. Amid the hustle two figures looked out of place; a pair of well dressed women, one past fifty, stern and prim with iron-grey hair scrapped back into a severe style. The other was around twenty-five and fortunate in that she was a very good illustration of her society’s idea of beauty. Her deep blue eyes were constantly moving, searching for something or someone, but you would have to look closely to see this, for the movement was very subtle indeed. She checked the sun, and saw that time had advanced a good half hour since they had arrived at the docks, and said quietly to herself, “Where is he?”
“Perhaps he thought better than to court his soul’s damnation?” suggested her escort disapprovingly, even though she knew no answer was expected or desired.
“He had no problems courting it yesterday.” replied the young woman, still watching the people about their business, at her companion’s scandalised gasp she couldn’t resist adding, “Twice.”
The old woman crossed herself, “May you be forgiven”
“As long as I’m not forgotten, I’m in no mood to continue searching for a new line of work, and I want to get out of Culad’s domain before he snicks Sigtryg’s head off. I suspect he’ll not be kindly disposed to his foe’s spymaster.” The arrival of a nobleman and his entourage attracted Fionna’s attention, “Come, mother.” she instructed, and briskly set off to meet this rider, the older woman trailing sternly along after her, oozing censure. Sir Guy de Brittany dismounted near his ship, and as he turned away from handing his horse to a squire he was met with a radiant smile that made his heart beat faster. He swept the owner of the smile into his arms, and kissed her, “Fionna, I thought you may have reconsidered…”
“No No, never.” she protested with wide eyed innocence, “As I told you, I only had to collect my dear mother. How could I leave you, Guy?” she brushed her fingers through his hair tenderly, “I love you, you know that.”
Guy kissed her again, and murmured “I love you too.”
The old woman coughed, and said sharply, “Then you can make an honest woman of her.”
“I think my wife might protest at that.” said Guy, lost in the blue of Fionna’s eyes. Fionna’s mother sniffed in deep disapproval, her daughter turned in Guy’s arms and gave her a sharp look. Turning back to her lover she smiled beatifically, “I think it best if we go aboard now, my mother is only worried about the sea voyage from Ireland to Brittany.”
“Yes, yes of course.” Guy bowed slightly and gestured for Fionna to lead the way. Fionna blushed shyly, and glanced towards the sailors nervously. Guy wrapped his arm about her, “Don’t worry, my love, those ruffians will not bother you. You are under my protection, remember?”
“I know.” Fionna snuggled deeper into his embrace as they walked over to the ship, followed by the critical mother. The two were shown to a private cabin and left alone, as Guy excused himself to check upon his servants. As soon as they were quite alone, and she was certain no one could over hear, Fionna said sharply to her mother, “I told you, stop risking my chances. Stealing his heart was easy enough, but you keep trying to throw it back, along with a good future I can play that young lordling like a lute. He’s rich, powerful, and as a happy bonus he’s even quite handsome. I can get a very nice livelihood out of him - a house, servants, clothes, bills paid, anything I want. I’ll even have plenty of time to entertain myself with something more demanding than playing the love struck sop. You’ll be well looked after in your old age, and since you had no devastating qualms about me being a spymaster and doing much the same thing you’re not so disapproving as you sound. If I play things right I’ll be set up for life.”
The mother pursed her lips, “It’s a disgrace; I don’t know what your father would say.”
“Nothing at all – he’s dead and that does wonders for stopping a tongue.”
“Have you no shame?” wailed the mother, “You’ll pay for this in the next world, mark my words.”
Fionna smiled wickedly, showing a few teeth, “Oh, somehow I think being paid for it in this life is quite enough for me, I’ll forswear men in the next life.” Ignoring the old woman’s horrified lamentations Fionna started unpinning her hair, “More money, far less work - I should have swapped from spymaster to mistress years ago”



And so my favourite minor character leaves, never to return. She was actually supposed to vanish from the story when she left to 'visit mother', but I decided she had potential for one final, purely fun scene.

You know I'm beginning to get better at this mush stuff, this scene was nothing but pure fun to write and it only took 40 odd minutes. Most of the fun comes from the mother/daughter dialogue, but somehow the rest was fun too. I must be going corrupt as well as soft in my old age
http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-help.gif

Axeknight, Donchad was never going to let Seoán live after he said Nuala was bored with Donchad and needed ahem, cheering up. Donchad's a mite sensitive about these things, but he won't admit it so he uses her as an excuse to crush rumour You can't say that about me, er the wife. The question is, how long will she put up with it?

[scooter_the_shooter]

good fight scene http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/medievalcheers.gif

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ June 07 2004,16:00)]“He had no problems courting it yesterday.” replied the young woman, still watching the people about their business, at her companion’s scandalised gasp she couldn’t resist adding, “Twice.”
http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/joker.gif Favourite line so far


Quote[/b] ]Axeknight, Donchad was never going to let Seoán live after he said Nuala was bored with Donchad and needed ahem, cheering up. Donchad's a mite sensitive about these things,
Wouldn't anyone be a little 'sensitive'? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif


Quote[/b] ]but he won't admit it so he uses her as an excuse to crush rumour You can't say that about me, er the wife. The question is, how long will she put up with it?
Yes, that's an interesting thing. I don't think she'll put up with it long, especially if he keeps the undertakers in business in her name for much longer.

[frogbeastegg]

September 9 1067
Sigtryg read the letter from Mael-Isu, his hand involuntarily shaking with combined rage and shock. He took a deep breath, then another, and felt the raw fury slowly cool, crystallising into something that burned like ice. Better. Sigtryg did not like to be ruled by his passions. He threw the letter onto the fire that burned in his room’s hearth, and called for his door guard to enter. The man saluted, “Lordship?”
“Fetch me the boy Énrí, be quick about it.”
“Lordship.” with a quick bow the man exited the room. “Ah Fionna, you should be here to see this; you’d like my plans for Margaret, I’m sure of it. You fled too soon, for I’m not done yet – not by the longest of shots. But first, before my plan can be realised there’s this boy…alas, you’d not be so approving of this part, so mayhap it’s for the best you’re not here juts now.” The rapid, eager footsteps of a running child broke Sigtryg out of his revere; a sunny faced boy of three years skidded through the door and flung himself at Sigtryg, “Uncle Siggy Are we going to play some more, uncle Siggy? Please say yes, please?”
Sigtryg scooped the boy up, and sat him on his lap, “Not just now, Énrí, we’ve a few important things to talk of first.”
The boy looked disappointed, then brightened, “Can we play later? I wanna play soldiers, you gave me that new sword so we just gotta use it or it’d be a waste.”
Sigtryg laughed indulgently, “Later, I promise we’ll have plenty of time for games later. Now you remember what I told you of your father?”
“He’s a bishop.”
“Yes, that’s him. Now you remember how I wrote to him, asking him to help me like a good friend?”
“Yes and I put my thumb print at the end to show I wanted him to help you, cus you’re nice and I like you a lot. I don’t like him, he’s all fat and his nose looks like a turnip.”
“Well I heard from him today, and he’s not going to help.”
“That’s not nice” Énrí exclaimed with all the intensity of a young child, “That’s mean – I don’t like mean people.”
“Your daddy and I had an agreement, if he helped me then I’d let him see you-”
“I don’t wanna see him” interrupted Énrí.
Sigtryg ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately, “I know, but he wanted to see you. Since he’s so mean, and since you don’t want to see him, I’m going to keep my word; for I said he’ll never see you again if he let me down.”
“Yay” Énrí wrapped his short arms about Sigtryg’s neck and hugged him tightly, “Now can we play soldiers?”
“I thought you might like something to eat first, I had the cook make some of those cakes you like.”
Sigtryg pulled out a plate filled with little pastry twists, and Énrí eagerly helped himself. He ate several before noticing Sigtryg hadn’t touched the food himself; he held out a treat in a sticky hand, “You want one, uncle Siggy?”
“No, no thanks lad, I’m fine. You eat as many as you want.” Énrí turned his attention back to eating. When the plate was nearly empty Sigtryg asked, “You remember I said you weren’t family, Énrí?”
“Yes, but you said that wasn’t important and I shouldn’t worry.”
“You forgive me, then?”
Énrí looked puzzled; unsure what his ‘uncle Siggy’ wanted forgiveness for, but he nodded like a good boy, and Sigtryg seemed so happy that he was reassured he had done the right thing. When the plate was empty the two engaged in an energetic game of mock fencing, Sigtryg giving ground before his adversary while Énrí laughed and hit him on the shins with his new toy sword. Soon, though, the boy became tired, and settled down on Sigtryg’s knee and went to sleep. When he was quite sure the boy was sound asleep Sigtryg slowly drew his dagger and checked the edge. “I’m sorry lad, but you’re not family and I gave my word I’d send you back dead if that unworthy father of yours betrayed me again.” Sigtryg thrust the blade into Énrí’s heart, killing the boy swiftly and with very little mess. Sigtryg stood; still cradling the dead boy in his arms, and went to the door. “Is the coffin ready?” he asked the guard.
“Yes, lordship.”
Sigtryg silently strode away, carrying his macabre armful almost tenderly, towards the chapel.



I think that was a 3 year old boy, but then what do I know about brats?

Thanks, caesar, have a drink on me http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/medievalcheers.gif

Axeknight, you're not the only one with a favourite line in that part - I've never had so many comments about a certain line being funny; even if those comments are spread over several different lines.

Personally, my favourite would be You’ll pay for this in the next world, mark my words.”
“Oh, somehow I think being paid for it in this life is quite enough for me, I’ll forswear men in the next life.”
it's such a neat turnaround. The one you highlighted is a very close second.

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ June 08 2004,13:34)]You’ll pay for this in the next world, mark my words.”
“Oh, somehow I think being paid for it in this life is quite enough for me, I’ll forswear men in the next life.”
That's a classic http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/joker.gif

I reckon the bish ain't gonna be too happy about that. I'm thinking he'll desert to Culad's side (Siggo's got nothing to bargain with now, right?).

*counting my posts in this topic* http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/eek.gif

[frogbeastegg]

September 10 1067
Aside from a few hours sleep around midnight Culad hadn’t had a particularly restful night; a question had been dancing around in his head making him restless. Now it was nearly morning; Margaret was still curled up in his arms, peaceful and looking as though she were asleep. Culad could tell that she was as awake as him, and so he finally asked his question, “Margaret? Do you ever think of England?” To his surprise she burst into peals of laughter; Culad looked wounded, “What’s so funny about me asking if you miss your home?”
Margaret tiled her head to look at him, her eyes sparkling with mirth, “You’d have to be English to understand it.”
“Is it something about the weather?” he ventured, provoking more laughter.
“Er, no” she assured him, before changing the subject slightly, “Why did you want to know if I missed England?”
“I was thinking last night-”
“I’m surprised you were in any state to”
“Thank you, but as you know I’m well able to recover from life’s ills quickly.”
Margaret propped herself up her elbow and looked down at Culad, “So I’m an ill now? I think I’ll leave rather than stay here to be insulted.” she moved to get up, but Culad dragged her back down; with scarcely any effort Margaret landed with part of her weight on her elbow, which landed right in Culad’s stomach. Culad groaned, melodramatically clutching his injury with his free arm, “I’m not convinced you’re worth all this pain.”
“I remember thinking the same thing about GillaÍsu, and look how he turned out – better than you.”
“Moving swiftly back to our earlier topic of England; do you ever wish you could go back?”
“To the England I was born in and grew up in, yes; to the England William the bastard’s built, no.”
“So you don’t regret coming here then?”
“If you keep asking daft questions I’ll batter some sense into you with a blunt instrument.”
“I doubt that.”
Margaret grabbed her pillow with the hand furthest away from Culad, whipped it out from under her head, them smacked him in the face with it. “Pillows are blunt.” she informed him tartly.
Culad looked pained, “I wonder what the law books say about this? A man can hit his wife, but what do they say about the wife beating her poor husband?”
“Don’t care.” Margaret whacked him with the pillow again, Culad half blocked the third blow with his arm; Margaret flashed him a challenging smile, and took a swipe at his legs. Culad made a grab for the pillow, “That’s it – I’m disarming you before someone gets killed” They grappled, until Margaret half fell out of the bed; Culad caught her just in time and they lay in each other’s arms catching their breath. “Day off?” asked Margaret. Culad pretended to consider, before nonchalantly replying, “I suppose so; let GillaÍsu do the work for once, lazy devil barely does a thing.”




Ladies and gentlemen, so concludes a very special mush scene. I didn't need to add that, no one asked for it, the story doesn't need it - I chose to write it. More than that; I actively searched for ideas so I could write a Culad/Margaret mush scene now. You will understand why later.

And yes, that opening joke is evil http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/geishagrin.gif

Axeknight, maybe I should start some kind of frequent poster scheme? 15 posts in this topic = a prize, the more at 25, 50, and 100. Then again I could just say your comments keep me posting, and if you like the story that is its own reward. It's cheaper that way too http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/geishatongue.gif

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ June 08 2004,19:04)]Then again I could just say your comments keep me posting, and if you like the story that is its own reward.
Aw, shucks http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/smile.gif Thanks, Froggy. Course, I'm still going for the prize

*counts posts* 43, including this one... So, where's my holiday to the Swiss alps? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/flat.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Swiss alps is 1,000 posts. For 43 posts you get...:thinks hard: a Red Hand mousemat, with all the principle characters posing nicely on it.

[scooter_the_shooter]

good story http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

been me fav in the mead hall for a about a week now

[frogbeastegg]

November 19 1067
“That’s the third day in a row you’ve been sick, are you sure you’re not ill?” asked Culad, all honest concern, “Maybe we should send for the physician?”
Margaret poured herself a cup of small beer and drank it, trying to rid her mouth of the foul taste of vomit, “I told you before; I’m in perfect health.”
“Aye, but that’s not what the evidence suggests. You’ve been so tired for a while now, and you’ve been sick some mornings for some time, but now it’s constant…” Culad’s eyes went wide, he phrased his suspicion in the most eloquent way his stunned brain could supply, “Er…?”
“This child gets a nice Saxon name.”
“Oh. Um…oh. Oh.”
“I do hope none of our children inherit your lack of word power.”
“Oh.” repeated Culad, still in shock. With some effort he pulled himself together enough to ask, “How long have you known?”
“Just over two months. I thought this time I’d avoid the fuss for as long as possible, being treated like a fragile object is wearisome after all of a minute – so don’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”
“Um…happy?”
“Ask me that 41 days after the birth, when it’s all safely over with a new baby in the nursery and my life’s back to normal.”



That tiny scene is your lot for today; got a headache that is rapidly becomnig a migraine. I'm going to go sleep it off...

Thanks, caesar. I'm flattered to hear it.

[scooter_the_shooter]

get well soon froggy http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

[Axeknight]

Gah, sorry to hear that Froggy. Bad headaches are rotten things to have, hope you feel better soon. Will my mousemat be delayed because of this? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

But regarding the story. Dang, Culad's really trying hard to shake off the 'Incompetant' title...

[Tricky Lady]

Get well soon, frogbeastegg.

I'm printing the chapters you wrote the last 4-5 days... Good reading for tomorrow when I'm at the office http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-grin2.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Thnaks everyone, I'm back up and running.

Axeknight, I sent the mousemat via orgmail yesterday.

Culad's not trying to prove anything, everyone needs an heir and a spare, and maybe a few more spares after that. Children die frequently, something like 40% never reached adulthood. Margaret is, well she's doing precisely what she expected to be doing; in the middle ages motherhood was the default and you only escaped it by taking religious orders, aka being a nun. That doesn't mean she'll be having a baby every year, as you've already seen in the story people do take steps to avoid that, but every woman expected to have multiple children and would continue to do so until they either had a large family or were told they would die if they got pregnant again. Heh, of course that relies on a reasonable husband...

[frogbeastegg]

November 30 1067
Cathaoir was fiercely proud of the simple professionalism that his small raiding party had exhibited over the last week of hard riding and cautious travel; crossing the border into Tir Eoghain, and then into Uliad itself had been perilous, and Sigtryg was counting on them – on him, Cathaoir told himself – to get him what he needed to win his place as duke. Sigtryg had promised a rich reward for all five men if they succeeded on their dangerous mission, but the richest of all rewards would go to Cathaoir, as he was the leader. He’d spent many a moment dreaming of what he might be granted, land, maybe even several new manors, or gold…gold was always nice, or perhaps a title? And now, after many nights of sleeping in a ditch and days spent travelling hard, their target was in sight, oblivious to the presence of five lightly armoured horsemen. Cathaoir gave his orders silently, using hand signals. One man to go around to the back to their target, one man to each of the sides, and one to the front while he himself went in to grab their target; as a pack of wolves herding their prey. At a wave of his hand all five started off at full gallop, careening towards the small group of people out hawking ahead of them. As ordered his men went and blocked the escape routes while Cathaoir swept in, spotting his desired target with ease – a dark haired, tall woman in fine clothing. To make life easier for him she was even wandering around on foot, her horse safely in the hands of a groom, and now she was running away from him, trying to reach the rest of the frightened group. He galloped past her, and leaned from his saddle to snatch her up, flinging her across his saddlebow and holding her tightly so she didn’t fall. As he moved away from the hawking party his men broke off and joined him. They rode hard for several miles, using every trick they knew to baffle pursuit, and soon lost their tail. They rode for a while longer, at a slower pace, before calling a halt in a small cluster of trees. Giving the weary horses chance to rest, Cathaoir examined his prisoner; sat on a tree stump with her hands bound and displaying a unexpectedly calm, collected demeanour. Cathaoir had been expecting her to scream and rage, making his task more perilous with her noise, so her cool silence was a blessing from heaven in his eyes. In addition to the height and colouring he’d been instructed to look for, she was about the right age, though maybe a trifle young looking for twenty-two. She fit the description exactly, except for one thing - it was hard to believe this was the famous beauty Sigtryg had spoken of; she was pretty enough certainly, but not what Cathaoir had expected. Shrugging his shoulders he reasoned, “There’s no accounting for different tastes, I always liked a nice brunette so maybe that’s it? Ah, what’s it matter? If the count thinks Margaret Atheling’s beautiful then who’s to say otherwise?”

[scooter_the_shooter]

did they take margaret the soy maater or a different one

[frogbeastegg]

Margaret Atheling is Culad's wife, the spymaster.

[frogbeastegg]

Culad looked out the window of his room, watching the rescue party assembling with all possible haste, rushing about trying to save even a few seconds time. They all knew that the longer it took for them to start tracking the abductors the less chance they stood of rescuing the hostage. Culad felt queasy, shaken to his core; he hadn’t thought that Sigtryg would – could - strike so close to home. “I’ll make him pay.” he vowed, “He’s given me an excuse to declare war again, and this time I’ll not stop until his head has parted company with the rest of him.”
“Poor Agatha, she followed me here from England.” Margaret spoke so quietly Culad couldn’t decide if she meant him to hear or not, “She’s been in my service for years. She was so happy to escape becoming another of William’s Saxon peacemaking brides, parcelled off to some dolt from Normandy to ‘bind our two peoples together’.”
Culad went and sat next to his wife on the bed and pulled her into his arms, holding her close and trying his best to be comforting, “We’ll get her back.”
“But in what condition? They were after me, they will hardly be pleased with a lady’s maid in my place.” she smiled weakly, “I never suspected morning sickness could be useful...if I hadn’t been too busy being sick I’d have joined the party.”
“If Sigtryg had kidnapped you I’d be expecting him to be offering to pay to give you back inside of a week.” joked Culad, brushing over Agatha’s unknown fate; he could offer only hollow reassurances Margaret would never believe, “As the story says, only Fulk can put up with Eleanor, anyone else would go mad in trying; you’d have Sigtryg running for cover with scant effort.”
“Flatterer.”
“No, it’s true – you certainly scared seven shades of hell out of me at first, you still do and I’m sure young headache will agree he’s in possession of one scary mother.”
“Only you could land a baby with the outlandish nickname of headache.”
“You’re the one who thought it up; ‘our future headache’ you said.”
Though she appreciated Culad’s efforts to distract her Margaret returned their talk to more serious lines, “So, when does the call to arms go out? Tomorrow?”
“That’s just what Sigtryg’d expect, so I’ll wait a while, until winter’s mostly over and the good campaigning weather’s beginning. February at the soonest.” Even though she said nothing Culad could tell what Margaret was thinking, “I’ll be back before the child’s born; fighting a war’s easier than pacing about waiting, but I’ve a few cunning tactics to try on the midwives this time and I’d not miss the chance if I can help it.”

December 5 1067
By the light of a couple of torches Sigtryg sat in his bedroom, playing chess against himself, as was his habit before bed. After careful deliberation he picked up the black rook and took one of the white pawns, carefully removing the piece and setting it to one side. He stood, and went to sit in the chair at the other side of the board; leaning an elbow on the table and propping his head on his fist for a better view of the situation. By the time he moved again the torches had burned lower, and time had passed from late evening to true night. Sigtryg reached for some wine and sipped it thoughtfully, his mind still on a game of strategy, but a different one to that laid out in front of him. “Gain: one pregnant wife, at long last. Loss: one bishop, run off to hide in his liege’s tunic hem, in Conchbar’s court and far from my reach. Unknown: one Margaret. Loss: One spymaster, Fionna ran too soon. Gain: Said spymaster will not be asking for a pay rise at moments where it’s hard to refuse, so I save money. Loss: Those amazing blue eyes of hers, well the rest of the package will be missed as well, but the eyes…” Someone knocked at his door. “Enter.” called Sigtryg, and to his mild surprise a dark haired woman was shoved through the door, followed by Cathaoir. “I don’t recall asking for company.” said Sigtryg placidly, taking a sip of his wine. The woman flushed, and Cathaoir pushed her forward a step, eager to claim his reward, “Margaret Atheling, delivered with nary a scratch or split hair, as per your instructions.”
Sigtryg set his goblet down on the small table with a click, and rose; languidly stretching his stiff limbs. He drew his dagger, and cut the rope binding the woman’s hands together, before brandishing on of her bruised, chaffed wrists in Cathaoir’s face, “Not a scratch, true, but still damage. Now tell me, do you think when I said ‘without a scratch’ I was giving you leave to do as you want, as long as it didn’t leaver a scratch, or do you think I was asking for her to arrive unharmed in any way?”
“Well…Lordship, speaking plainly, it was obvious, but yon bitch tried to claw my eyes out and I took exception to it. Now you’ve got Margaret Atheling, she’s in one piece and’ll heal in a few days, so I’m not seeing the problem.”
Sigtryg released his prisoner’s arm and asked her kindly, “Please state your name for the not so nice man.”
“Agatha.” replied the prisoner.
“Now there’s a problem, add it to your other failings here and I’m thinking I’m justified in being less than pleased.”
“But she was the only one who fit the description” protested Cathaoir.
Sigtryg waved Agatha to a chair, “Sit down dear, no sense in standing on ceremony.” he poured a refill of wine into his goblet and gave it to her, “Have a drink, and I’ll send for some food later. I do try to be a good host, since the rules of hospitality are there for all, and I never know when I may require them myself.” The count wandered back over to Cathaoir, gave him a friendly smile, and clapped him on the shoulder, “Don’t look so worried, I’m not going to kill you where you stand, or anything so crude; blood scarcely pays wages now, does it?” Relieved Cathaoir nodded, allowing himself to match his lord’s smile. Sigtryg continued, “I’m thinking of a new job better suited to your obvious talents, for there’s no denying you’ve skill and courage.” Cathaoir practically preened, suddenly his reward didn’t seem so distant after all; Sigtryg was obviously awed by his skill even if things had gone awry. “I need a messenger to take a letter to Mael-Isu at his liege’s court, and you’re the man. The bishop’s buried away deep, so you’ll have to work a bit to get to him.” Sigtryg went over to his work desk, pulled out a sheet of parchment, and wrote My dear bishop, I have killed your son, as you know, and now I could target all those whores you have such interest in; trying to twist your arm into doing as we agreed. I’m a decent man, so I’ll not do that; they may not be innocent little lambs, but they’re hardly party to your decisions. Instead I’ll handle the problem at the root cause – you. I will collect your head at the earliest convenience. Thank you for your cooperation. He folded the parchment, dripped some wax from a candle onto the spot where the folds joined, then stamped his signet ring down on the wax. Waving the letter about to encourage the wax to set quickly, he returned to Cathaoir, “Here you go, be sure to wait for his response. Now you’d best set out immediately, it’s an urgent message – and remember; wait for a response.” Cathaoir saluted and left; Sigtryg sat himself down opposite his prisoner and smiled, “And I think that takes care of that; his head’ll roll as soon as the bishop reads my letter, and the bishop’s warned of my displeasure and will await his end fearfully. Two birds, one stone. Now my dear, what am I to do with you?”
Agatha looked apprehensive, and Sigtryg flashed a disarming grin at her, “You’re hardly what I was looking for, but I’ve never felt there was any advantage in killing folk out of hand. So that leaves a few other options…ransom is next to worthless, for who’ll pay out a dukedom for a lady’s maid? I can’t just let you go, for I’ve a reputation to keep. I could use you as bait for a trap, but it’d be a sorry trap indeed and so I’ll not bother. I think I shall just keep you as a guest, a prisoner to the world, but not to us. When this war’s over, well you’ll either be free to go back to your lady, or you can stay in service to mine, depending on who wins and who dies, of course. My honoured guest, safe from any harm or ill intent; I do assure you rape has never interested me, so you are quite safe.” “My guest, to be plied with wine, fine food and all other comforts until you begin to trust; then to be charmed and flattered by my interest, until you begin to like; then I can extract information from you, drip by drip by drip. Love thy enemy; so sayth God. Seduce thy enemy and use them to the full; so sayth Sigtryg.”





Updated the character list with two new entries:
Guy de Brityany: a hooked fish
Agatha: sleeping with the enemy?
Also updated a few others, fine tuning them.

[Ludens]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ June 03 2004,00:53)]Most men go crazy for long, loose, free-flowing hair, and I never know why. Since I have long hair I would like to know, I see the effects but don't quite understand the cause...
Philosophers have been seeking for the secret of beauty for years without finding it, and you think you can find the answer on a game forum? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif But it was never found, and I think I know why: because the concept of beauty changes over time. Why do men like playing with the hair of women then? Well, probably because it's a good way to be intimate while... er... while still keeping their clothes on. Ahem. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-blush.gif

Anyway, it's great to see how the story has developed over the last few days. I like the attention to the characters.
But exactly what is Culad planning to do? Because I get the impression that he just lets things come for him, and that Sigtryg does all the planning.
You spend so much time on the intrigues of the antagonist that you don't have time for the intrigues of the protagonists http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif .

[Ludens]

As for the Nuala question and the Nuala bet:
I actually blame Donchad, because it was his behavior that forced her into this stance. Now he is stuck with the results, because he cannot do anything to get her out. Off course, neither wanted to change their stance so neither is innocent. In the best tradition of tragedy: neither parties can be blamed, they were destined to bring each other to grief. I think you've catched that pretty well.

With the bet I am more conventional: I think Nuala will break down first. Pending any unexpected developments off course http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif .

[frogbeastegg]

Quote[/b] (Ludens @ June 11 2004,18:28)]I actually blame Donchad, because it was his behavior that forced her into this stance. Now he is stuck with the results, because he cannot do anything to get her out. Off course, neither wanted to change their stance so neither is innocent. In the best tradition of tragedy: neither parties can be blamed, they were destined to bring each other to grief.
:gives Ludens a cookie: Congratulations You are the first person to spot that I had given up hope. People have managed to get fragments of the idea I had in mind, this is the final fragment, but no one person has pieced them all together.

It's both of them, acting as their natures dictate in circumstances that would never have happened if not for Sigtryg, Culad and Fionnghualla. They could, and probably would, have been perfectly happy if Siggy had never meddled.

I decided that since everyone was blaming Nuala almost unconditionally (exceopt for those who placed secondary blame on Siggy, Fionnghualla and Culad) it was too late to change things to spread the blame a bit; my plot works well enough with her carrying the can.

To anyone who wants to say But you only gave us the choice of Nuala, Donchad or both; do I have to tell you everything? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/geishatongue.gif



Intrigues of Culad, given more than a few hours a day I could come up with some plots for him, but as things stand I have to spend much of my time thinking of the story's future. Culad has the upper hand, he can beat Siggy in battle with ease, but he needs an excuse to go kill his 'loyal' vassal - if Culad just kills him when he is sat about being 'loyal' then Culad will become hated. You cannot pick off certain nobles at will to take their lands without worrying your other nobles. They will fear that they will be next on the list when you feel a bit cash poor.



Hair...I found something on that by accident, reading pone of Sharon Penman's books. It makes sense for the past, but not exactly for the modern day. Back when all women wore their hair in some kind of style only a husband or lover would get to see if flowing loose, and you can guess when they'd have that oppertunity most of the time. Since the western world spent about 3,000 years with women wearing their hair up maybe it has become genetic for men to like loose hair? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/geishawink.gif

[Axeknight]

Froggy, I believe (I may have to research this one) that in Elizabethan times a woman wore her hair down when she was a virgin. Once she had done the deed for the first time (usually on her wedding night, as they wouldn't want to advertise any extra-marital flings), a woman would wear her hair up in whatever style was fashionable. So free-lowing hair was a sign of a woman's 'purity' (for want of a better word). Queen Bess wore her hair down.

No idea if this was true in the middle ages, though.

[frogbeastegg]

February 19 1068
As Culad rode out the main gate of his castle to meet those who had answered his call to arms he looked back, and saw Margaret on the battlements, and well wrapped up in a thick cloak. She had insisted on watching him leave, even though it was a cold, blustery day. When she saw he was looking at her Margaret raised her hand, and waved almost forlornly; he raised his hand and waved back, before setting in his saddle with his eyes resolutely on the road ahead. His levy was waiting in a field outside the castle, just as it had two years ago. The men from Tir Eoghain were waiting for him in that province; he would join the two forces together as he marched to Tir Connail. He had not been idle in the year of peace; Culad had expanded his heavy cavalry bodyguard to fifty men, supported by another fifty light cavalry. He could summon six hundred men to form his shield wall now, and there were more than one hundred and fifty skirmishers to disrupt and harass the enemy. His force had all but doubled from the battle weary men he had brought home when peace had been signed. Culad knew his count could never hope to match even half his army, but that was hardly surprising as Culad was drawing on the resources of twice as much land. As he rode to the head of his army he watched his soldiers stand, collect their equipment and fall in to place ready to march with quiet, organised efficiency; all those weeks of extra training were already proving worthwhile. Donchad was already waiting for his kinsman at the head of the forming column, cheerfully anticipating an adventurous campaign. “Finally got here then, Culad? Anyone’d think you’d rather stop at home – you’re one of the last to arrive.” Culad glanced back towards the gatehouse; Margaret was just visible, a barely recognisable silhouette standing vigil on the ramparts. Donchad followed his gaze, and broke into a grin, “Speaking for myself I’m so happy to be away from home I’d pay to fight this war”
“What’s gone wrong now?” asked Culad; truth be told he’d rather not know, he couldn’t see how it was possible for two people to manage to hurt each other so much that love turned to hate in the space of a few short months. He suspected that both partners were being stubborn and stupid, blind to each other’s wounds.
“She tried to leave me.” replied Donchad, “She actually tried to leave me, can you credit that?”
“Yes.” thought Culad wearily, but he said nothing.
“Well of course I soon put paid to that, I had to assign her a guard in the end; if I’m not with her then Eileen is, so she’ll not get away now. I’ll not have people thinking she’s a failed wife and all that, sent off to some backwater house of ours out my way. It’s for her benefit, I’m thinking of her, but she’ll not see it so, same as ever.”
“Now how did my father put it? Ah yes, ‘if you throw her out the blame lands on her, if she leaves then people wonder about you, so for heaven’s sake, son, keep your wife safely at home or pre-empt things and send her packing yourself’ Keeping your own wife prisoner, the old man would have been proud.” Culad knew his kinsman expected an answer, so he searched for a tactful response, “So why did she try to leave?”
“Now that’s a mystery, to tell the truth.”
“None so blind as those that’ll not see…”, Culad heaved a mental sigh.
Donchad continued in full spate, scarcely stopping for breath and growing more vexed with each word, “I just don’t understand her, not even in the slightest. Much of the time she’s perfectly content to do as I ask, and to tell the truth that’s boring. Then other times she’ll dig her heels in and fight, unreasonably too. I have managed to find a solution to a problem that baffled you though, Culad.”
“And what problem’s that?”
“The combination of a locked door and a decent heart; all you need do is rip the bolt off the door as soon as she leaves the room, then no more problem.”
“Ah yes, I’m sure she’ll suddenly discover a change of heart just because the door won’t lock – you’ll not fool me, you’re not so callous.”
“Then perhaps you’ll be kind enough to tell her?” Donchad laughed bitterly, “After all my kindness she thinks I’m some kind of violent monster who’d stoop so low as to rape his own wife I drop in to talk to her, and she starts inching towards the dagger she’s taken to keeping by her bed. How very gratifying.”
“And so once again he does something to upset her, she flings it back at him, and he starts planning to turn it back on her, and so on and so forth in an endless cycle neither has a will to break, so focuses are they on scoring minor victories over each other.” Culad decided that enough was enough; maybe Donchad would shut up once they got underway. Even though the army was still assembling to move Culad gave the signal to start marching; the cavalry lead the way, fully formed and ready to go. The infantry fell into place on the move, running to get in position, before settling down into an easy stride to cover the miles with the minimum of effort. The two cousins travelled in silence for a while, until they passed a couple of peasant girls watching the army go by. A smile slowly spread on Donchad’s face, “You know” he said to Culad, “I’ve a sudden feeling I may just prove to my dear wife I don’t need her at all, if she’s not interested there’s plenty who are.”
“You’re trying to steal my name again.” chided Culad jokingly, mindful he couldn’t play the fool with Donchad as easily as he once had, wary of reopening old wounds, “But surely it’s not worth the trouble?”
“No trouble, and I’ll admit I’ve missed the thrill of the chase.”
“No trouble – until you get home.”
“Oh still no trouble; just think of a wife’s primary duty to her husband – obedience. Not something I ever thought I’d call on, but I’ve found it to be mighty handy…’shut up’, two of the most beautiful words in the whole Irish language when talking to Nuala. She’s decided I’m a monster, remember? So she thinks I’ll back my words by force, and you’d be surprised at how well that ends arguments. She’s a coward at heart, she always decides cooperation’s better than trying to use that dagger.”
“Thank you, that was a detail I did not want to know And so much for just dropping in to talk.” thought Culad, thankful that Donchad had at last lapsed into silence. They had travelled about half a mile when Donchad suddenly spoke again, quietly and viciously, “She brings out the worst in me, the very worst, and I hate her for it. I should be better than this, and I hate her for that too.”


http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/mecry.gif


I flicked through my single, solitary book on medieval clothing and fashion. Hairstyles are scattered throughout it, the predominant thing seems to be hair arranged in at least a very simple style, sometimes covered and sometimes not. It looks like the uncovered hair is for unmarried women, as the ones with those styles are much younger looking. It is not always platted and pinned up, some of the styles are quite free flowing, but still not just plain loose hair. This does add a bit more credit to Penman's theory.

At the same time you have to remember many noble girls got married very young, sometimes before they were even a year old. Generally speaking though it appears the marriage was only consumated when they were 12 or older. Generally, there are some exceptions listed in the history books. You do have to love 10 year old mothers :sick looking smiley here: Of course just to baffle historians there was no set age, unlike today there were no laws stating minimum age for marriage, but it is safe to assume the vast majority of noble girls would have been married off by 20 at the latest (at that age you're sat on the shelf as an old maid), and those girls with the loose hair in the book looked about 21; they certainly weren't children. Um, gah?

In an extraordinary feat of usefulness the book only covers 1200-1400AD, so no chance to check those Elizabethan ladies, or even Norman era women like those in the story. :sigh: The book is part of a series which helpfully does not list the titles of the other books, and they are by different authors. I do hate that, it's a good book and I'd like to read the rest.

I think I give up, frogs aren't meant to deal with the trauma of hairstyles One day maybe I'll find a nice book that explains it for me...

Now, to plan a battle and to find someone to mop up the blood and guts that is going to be spread librally about the mead hall

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ June 12 2004,20:02)]You do have to love 10 year old mothers :sick looking smiley here:
I'm off to arrest some knights now http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-dizzy2.gif

[Monk]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ June 12 2004,15:02)]Now, to plan a battle and to find someone to mop up the blood and guts that is going to be spread librally about the mead hall
:looks around as everybody seems to be looking at Monk:

What? You expect me to clean it up? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/rolleyes.gif Ok ok i'll go get the mop.

edit: btw, i haven't had the chance to catch up on reading this story until now, but it looks very promising http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-2thumbsup.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-book2.gif

[frogbeastegg]

February 27 1068
Culad stepped out of his tent, and into the bitter night air. “Lordship?” inquired one of the two sentries, his breath freezing the instant the words left his mouth.
“Where’s my marshal?” asked Culad, “He was due here more than half an hour ago.”
The first sentry hugged his thick woollen cloak tighter about himself, “He’s not been here Lordship, neither hide nor hair’s been spotted, right, Bécc?”
The second sentry nodded his agreement, and volunteered, “I’ll go search him out, if your lordship wishes.”
“Please do.” Culad ducked back inside his tent, and settled down to wait. About a quarter hour later someone tapped on the flap of his tent, and Bécc stuck his head through the gap, “Found him, lordship, he’s drunk.”
“Drunk.” repeated Culad in disbelief, “Drunk? We’ve a battle tomorrow How in hell’s name does he propose to think up strategy and lead men if he’s barely capable of standing? Right, that’s enough of this.” Culad leapt to his feet and strode out of the tent, “Bécc, go find me a bucket of water, ice cold water, Eamonn you’d best get one too.” The two sentries hurried away, glad to be moving and gaining a bit of warmth. Culad paced up and down as he waited, heated by his anger; as soon as he saw his men coming back towards him carrying buckets with water slopping out of them Culad set off to meet them. “Lead the way.” he ordered; Bécc headed towards the outskirts of the camp, to one of the great fires men were warming themselves by. Sure enough, there was Donchad, sat on a folded cloak on the ground with a few empty jugs scattered nearby. The other men at the fire stopped their talk when they spotted their leader striding furiously at them; when they saw it was Donchad he had business with they backed away to a respectful distance, but not so far they couldn’t overhear what was said. Culad directed his guards to put their buckets down, and then went to his cousin. Donchad smiled up at him, and waved as if Culad were a long distance away, “Hello, long time no seeing thing.” he slurred.
“Get up.”
Donchad yawned widely, clumsily covering his mouth with his hand, “Friad not, I like it here.” he started laughing madly, as if he’d just told a wonderful joke.
“I said get up” Culad kicked his cousin on the leg with considerable force; Donchad slumped over onto the ground, protesting, “Now that’s not nice; why’s everyone so horrible? You’re horrible, she’s horrible, Sigthingy's horrible, whole damn world’s horrible and it’s not fair”
“Bécc, the first bucket of water, if you’d be so kind.” The soldier gleefully tipped the water over the marshal; Donchad howled and leapt to his feet, accompanied by the laughter of the growing crowd. At Culad’s order Eamonn also emptied his bucket over Donchad, leaving him dripping and shivering but closer to sober. Culad grabbed his kinsman by his sodden tunic and shook him, “You damn fool of a heedless, feckless, bastard What kind of a marshal are you? We’ve a battle tomorrow, fighting across a bridge to boot, and you’re sat here so dunk you can barely stand” Culad wrinkled his nose in disgust at the stench of alcohol wafting from his cousin, and pushed him away; Donchad stumbled but just managed to keep his feet. Culad’s diatribe hadn’t ended yet, “Now I’ll tell you what you’re going to do, you’re going to get sober – fast. You’re going to dunk your head in cold water until you either start talking straight or die of pneumonia, and tomorrow you’re going to lead the first assault and either fight like the great Hound of Ulster himself, or die trying God help you if you’re not fit to lead; you’re going to pull yourself together and start acting like the man you used to be, not this spineless, petty, unfit, worthless sop you’ve become”
“But-” Donchad tried to defend himself.
“Silence I don’t care, I really don’t care, in fact I’m beyond that – I don’t damn well want to know Listening to you and your whining and whinging makes me sick, and I’ve had my fill You either start acting like my marshal or I’ll find someone fit for the position.” Culad turned on his heel and stormed away; his kinsman stared after him, shocked and humiliated. The crowd slowly began to chatter, and one voice could be heard louder than the rest; “Donchad the Dripping.”
Another loud voice countered it, “Nay, Donchad the Drunk”
“Donchad the Drowned’s far better.”
Cheeks flaming, Donchad kicked over the jug with the rest of his wine in, and half stalked, half staggered away as the jeers got louder.



Same proceedure as the other battle - write a bit, post a bit, write a bit, post a bit etc.

Don't worry Monk, I've got some people coming in to do the cleaning...here they are
http://webpages.charter.net/connectingzone/misc/13.gif http://webpages.charter.net/connectingzone/misc/5.gif

[frogbeastegg]

The next morning dawned clear and promised to remain so, even if it was too cold for comfort. With the aid of his squire Sigtryg shrugged his mail tunic on over his padded gambeson, and impatiently waited for the boy to belt his sword about his waist, taking part of the weight off his shoulders. Like most other men of his class Sigtryg was well able to take the weight of his arms and armour, but unlike so many he saw no reason to discomfort himself just to prove this. When the boy offered him his arming cap Sigtryg declined, and stepped out of his tent. He had chosen a good location to set up his command centre, on top of the hill that overlooked the bridge and soon to be battlefield. Shading his eyes with his hand Sigtryg looked across the river at Culad’s camp. All his information had been correct – Culad outnumbered him by more than two to one, and he had a large contingent of cavalry. Satisfied, Sigtryg went back to his tent and ordered his squire to fetch him something to eat; cavalry counted for nothing when crossing a bridge, and a small force could destroy a much larger one in such a battle. It was worth the cost of all those destroyed bridges along his border, it would only take a half-year to rebuild them. He had forced Culad to play his game, and this time he had no intent of losing.

Donchad reported to Culad in full armour, his helmet tucked under his arm. “Ready for battle.” he said stiffly. The moment hung tensely in the air; then Culad pushed away the plate with his breakfast on and swallowed the chunk of bread he was chewing, “Good. You’re the first to arrive, the other officers are still eating.”
“Call me eager.” Donchad looked abashed, “I’ve some ground to make up and the sooner I get started…”
“Drink?” Culad offered his cousin a goblet of wine; Donchad refused it firmly, “No, no more. I will never get drunk again, I’ve…a few changes to make.”
“I wasn’t asking you to get drunk, but if you want to turn down a fine wine on the day of battle so be it.”
“If I don’t drink anything strong then I’ll never find myself drunk.” replied Donchad matter-of-factly, “God knows how she did it, but Nuala warped me into a disgusting mess.”
“No change there then, still totally innocent yourself, of course.” Culad’s thoughts must have shown, because Donchad’s mouth twisted and he began to study his feet, “…And I played along.” the admission sounded as if it nearly killed him.




Biggest casualty so far is the actual writing - as fast as I finish the beginning of the fighting I decide I hate it and delete it. :sigh: Just when I had learned to handle everything that has appeared in the last 30+ pages of this easily I have to write a battle, and discover that while duels are relatively easy now, battles are still hell. I think this may take longer that I hoped...

[frogbeastegg]

Donchad was armoured from head to toe, and yet he still felt naked and vulnerable when he looked across the river at the mass of spear points he was about to walk into. Drawn up in close formation about him were the heavy infantry, men equipped just like him in the best equipment available; their long mail hauberks, spangenhelms, and huge shields providing excellent protection against arrows and most other weapons. While they were proofed against wounds as best as any man could be they were no better protected from the real threat here than a peasant in a cloth tunic. In a bridge battle the biggest danger was forcing a crossing, then holding on while surrounded and cramped together, fighting at a huge disadvantage while waiting for more men to arrive and provide support. Until they could force Sigtryg’s men back Culad’s force would only be able to fight on the far shore in a ramshackle formation, no shield wall could be formed in such a tiny space when pressed on all sides. Densely packed together it would be even harder to fight against the enemy swarming them in greater numbers. But, as the officers had concluded after hours of lively discussion, they had to cross the river and all the other bridges had been destroyed, and there were no fords at any point. Donchad drew his sword; like many he had chosen to leave his battleaxe behind, preferring the added protection of his shield. At Donchad’s order the men began to march forward, armour rattling; as he took his first step onto the wooden planks of the bridge Donchad swung his shield up to protect his head and upper body, as did the other soldiers. On the far side, behind the waiting spearmen, Sigtryg’s archers notched their arrows and drew, releasing a volley of arrows as soon as the order to fire at will was given; then they kept firing as fast as they were able, the more skilled men loosing a shot every eight seconds. An arrow glanced off Donchad’s conical helm, and hit the man behind him in the face; another fell with an arrow embedded in his thigh, but the infantry kept moving, stepping over the fallen and speeding up in their haste to reach the melee and the strange safety from missiles it offered. About two thirds of the way across Donchad called for the charge, and everyone began to run. The two forces met with a crash that could be heard echoing for more than a mile; Donchad flung himself into the fray with his usual enthusiasm and competence, hacking and slashing at any targets that presented themselves.

Safely on his hill Sigtryg watched as Donchad’s infantry ploughed into his own spearmen, just past the end of the bridge. The force of their impact simply made it easier for the spearmen to envelop them, pressing in on both flanks in addition to the front; the only safe side of Culad’s force was its rear. Sigtryg’s squire shifted his feet, and the count noticed the boy was watching the fighting with keen interest. “Let me guess.” said Sigtryg, “You want to be down there.”
“Yes, lordship.” replied the boy eagerly, thinking Sigtryg meant to let him go.
The older man chuckled, amused at the boy’s zeal, “You know the best way to survive a battle?”
“No, lordship.”
“Don’t die.”
The squire looked scandalised at his lord’s levity, “I thought skill did count.” he suggested tentatively, “And training too.”
“How old are you, boy?”
“I turned fifteen last summer.” replied the squire hotly, “I’m not a boy now.”
“Ah, the fire of youth; burning away sense and reason in a bonfire of pride and vanity. In the eyes of the law you’re a man at sixteen, boy. Training and skill are important, but they don’t help much when you’re stepping over the corpses of your friends, they help even less when you’re so weary you can barely lift your weapon.”
The squire said nothing, sullenly watching the battle.
“Our turn’ll come later, lad.” said Sigtryg, not unkindly, “Much later when there’s something to gain; this is just the first of many skirmishes.”



I quit for the night All the good ideas I'm getting are for several months past this battle, not a single one for now.

[frogbeastegg]

Exhaustion was beginning to set in; Donchad didn’t know how long he had been fighting, but it seemed an eternity, and eternity of hacking and slashing, of screaming faces, of spurting blood, of tripping on the dead and dying. Donchad hacked at the upper arm of the nearest foe, wincing despite himself as he dragged his blade free of the shattered mess of bone and flesh; his blade was growing blunt. As he dragged his guard back up, looking for the next target he realised he was slightly out in front of his allies; his men were being forced back. He stepped back a pace, back to the shelter of his brothers in arms, and kept on fighting; the man on his left went back a step, then the man on his right. All along the line Culad’s men were giving ground; somehow, and Donchad was not clear how, this one step back soon became anther, and another; then they were fighting at the mouth of the bridge, no longer on grass but on the wooden planks of the structure itself. The line broke, and Culad’s heavy infantry started to run for the safety of their own side. Donchad kept fighting, calling for the men to rally and keep battling, but to no avail; left with no choice Donchad joined the retreat.

By mid afternoon Sigtryg and his army had beaten off three more attempts to cross the bridge; the ground was littered in the dead and dying making for treacherous footing, bodies lay in mounds forming impromptu walls and barricades, and a few corpses had fallen into the water where they floated in the shallows, or drifted away on the current. Thus far Sigtryg’s casualties had been light, around eighty men dead or wounded out of further fighting this day. Culad, on the other hand, had not been so fortunate; his losses were estimated at well over two hundred and fifty. Splattered in gore, his armoured battered and begrimed, Sigtryg flopped to the ground, resting his weary bones; he had been fighting in the front line to repel that last attack for more than half an hour. “It’s at times like this I’m reminded I’m no longer a young man.” Someone thrust a wineskin in his face, which the count grabbed eagerly. He swilled his mouth out with some of the watered wine, cleaning away the dust choking him, and then drank greedily, emptying half the skin in one go. “Something to eat, lordship?” his benefactor - a youthful soldier from the half of the army assigned to rest during this last bout of fighting - inquired. Sigtryg nodded, to weary to speak. His squire should have been attending him, but the boy was in the hands of the doctors now; his face slashed open from chin to ear. If he lived he’d have an interesting scar to boast of, if he lived.

Culad looked about the small gathering, at the group of bloody, battered men who were his officers, brought here to his command tent to find a way to break Sigtryg’s defence. “So, any suggestions?” Culad’s query was met with dead silence; each man looked away, avoiding their lord’s gaze, hoping he’d not ask them. The youngest at the gathering, Tomas, gathered his courage, “I’ve one, lordship, if I may?”
“Go ahead.”
“Well, it seems to me that we’ll not fight our way past him on this accursed bridge; if we were ever to do that it was before our path became cluttered with our dead. We need to outflank him.”
“Oh aye, fine idea.” Enna waved his hand dismissively, “We’ve none of us thought of that, it’s a mighty fine thing you’re able to spot the obvious when we’re not”
“You misunderstand me.” countered Tomas, “We can’t go past him by land, and we’ll not sail by either, but how about swimming?”
“The current’s too strong, lad.” said Pilib kindly, “A man’d have to leave all his gear but a sword behind, and then he’d be easy pickings, and tired too, before the fighting even began.”
“A man yes, but not a horse.” Every eye in the room turned to focus on the young man. “We take the light cavalry, they’re none to heavily burdened, and send them swimming across; the horses’ll handle the current well enough. It’d have to be the light cavalry, or the weight of man and arms would drag the animal below.”
“And they’ll just let us swim over?” asked Donchad sceptically.
“No.” Culad was deep in thought, rubbing his chin, “But if we go a mile or two downstream then they’ll not be able to attack us while we cross; then we can loop about and catch the enemy from behind.”

Sigtryg was gnawing on a strip of dried beef, letting his marshal repulse the latest attempt on the bridge, when a scout reported to him, “Lordship, cavalry approaching on this bank, Culad’s got around us”
“Has he indeed.” Sigtryg tossed the beef over his shoulder and pushed himself to his feet, “Form up the resting men to face to the rear, tell them to hold all as if their lives depended on it.” “And so the ending, inevitable enough perhaps, but it matters little that Culad’s crossed the river, for his army’s broken down to half strength, that’s before his further losses finishing this battle today, and I’ve a nice stone castle fully stocked staffed with well rested, loyal men. My liege’ll not dare assault it with his remnants, and he’ll not starve me out in anything less than months; but little does he know I’ve some men left hidden away, waiting for his force to reach breaking point, then in I’ll swoop to claim my victory.” The count started looking for a horse.

It was going dark by the time Sigtryg’s army finally crumpled; fleeing the field, caught between Donchad’s infantry storming across the bridge, and the light cavalry lead by Culad. The rebel count was no where to be found.




Ok, so that is not good, really not very good at all and don't tell me otherwise - I hate the way that turned out. Now you know what a froggy rough priliminary draft looks like. I had such grand plans for this, alas my head is buzzing with another scene which I can't get out of my head. It is time to move on, this charts what happened well enough, but with none of the narrative, detail, flare, interest or enthusiasm I had in mind.

And now I must write that scene that is bothering me, at long last. Days, weeks, months - this scene has been in my mind since the very beginning, and now it is time...

[frogbeastegg]

March 3 1068
Sigtryg lightly clasped both of Agatha hands between his own, “You understand what you must do?”
“Yes.” A tear escaped from the corner of her eye and began to run down her cheek. Sigtryg brushed it away with his finger, “Don’t cry, you’ll be alright, and so will I; this is a backup plan, nothing more. And now it’s time, you must make ready, and so must I.” He kissed her on the lips, and then led her towards the door of his solar; placing her in the care of the guard outside, “Take her to the main gate, when I give the word she’s to be freed to Culad’s keeping.” The guard saluted, and lead Agatha away; to her credit she didn’t look back, not even once. “And that’s me back to being lonely; as much as I enjoyed her company I do hope never to see her again.” A cold, tingling sensation ran down Sigtryg’s spine; as if someone had run an icicle down his back. Dismissing this with a simple shrug, Sigtryg set off to his own destination, the ramparts above his main gate out of the walls.

Culad waited on the ground outside Sigtryg’s gate; reckless enough to enter bowshot, although he was sure his count wouldn’t just shoot him out of hand, not just yet. A dark haired figure swaggered into view on the wall above, crossing over to the parapet and leaning his elbows on one of the notches cut in the wall. Sigtryg looked down on his liege with a mocking smile, “Morning, Culad, how nice of you to join us.”
“I’m here for your surrender. Open the gates and I’ll spare the garrison.”
“Ah, but not me?”
“But not you, you’ll be taken prisoner; I give you my word you’ll not be killed.”
“I’m not one for giving up when I’ve still a good chance of winning; go ahead, try my defences, you’ll find them in the bets of repair and well manned. You’ll not assault me without heavy losses, and that’d be bad tactics. I’ve supplies enough to hold out for months, more even. Try your patience, for that’s what this comes down to; your patience against mine, and I’ve always been able to wait far batter than you.”
“As you will.” Culad pulled at his horse’s reins, turning the animal back to his own army.
“Wait a moment.” Sigtryg disappeared from the ramparts for a second, then reappeared as the great iron bound gates opened enough for one person to leave, “You can have your lady’s maid back now. She’s an extra mouth, and you know how I’m none so fond of those in a siege.” Agatha walked out the gap, holding her arms away from her body so Culad could see she was unarmed and meaning no harm. He pulled her up onto his horse in front of him, gently dug his spurs into his horse’s flanks, and rode back to his army. Soon after the catapults began their bombardment.

April 28 1068
Culad sat in his tent reading a letter from home;
To the curmudgeon with brown hair, greetings from your devoted wife.

And so the days crawl by and still you are off fighting, I begin to doubt you will be home in time. Knowing you as I do I’ll wager that after reading that you are probably protesting I’m wrong; don’t bother, save your breath since you’ll need it for all that shouting orders and similar you solider types get up to. It doesn’t matter, as long as you get home safely at some point it doesn’t matter; I feel I should warn you that if you make me a widow I’ll not be too pleased.

GillaÍsu has begun to talk; he says ‘dada’ with such a strange expression on his face, almost as if he wants to be sick. I know how he feels; you used to have a similar effect on me. Looks like you have another devoted fan there, then. You asked what we can call this new baby, since you do persist in calling GillaÍsu ‘headache’, may I suggest this one be called ‘restless’? I begin to wonder if (s)he is currently fighting a war with no less than five hundred warriors per side; I would be grateful if (s)he could wait until after (s)he is born before being so active Still, the midwives say it is a good sign, so I won’t complain. Too much.

Returning to the subject of names, and decent ones this time, you agreed on a Saxon name, so take your pick. Boy: Thurstan, Edwin, Alfred, Godwin, Edgar, Leofwine. Girl: Edith, Athelflaed, Hilda, Elfleda.

And now I fear I will humiliate myself, and add that I miss you.
Signed, Margaret; expectant mother wishing she could dump the expecting part on the father. Next time I’ll fight the war, you handle the baby

PS: If GillaÍsu is ‘headache’, this new baby is ‘restless’, then what am I?

Culad rummaged around for a suitable bit of parchment, his inkhorn and quill pen, seated himself at the tiny table, and started to write in his clumsy, laboured hand;
To the harridan who inspires a nervous tick every time her name is mentioned, greetings from your favourite torture victim.

I keep telling you I’ll be back in time, so have a little faith? Sigtryg is trapped like a pig in a snare, it is only a matter of time before this is over and I’m back at your side, being derided and subjected to your foul persecutions; maybe I should prolong the siege a little for the sake of my health? Edwin and Edith are the best of those names you sent, although I rather liked the good Irish sounds of Indrechtach for a boy, or Caoimhe for a girl. No, I tease, your Saxon names will suit well enough, for I’ll just call the sprog ‘restless’ if I can’t pronounce the true name

Tir Connail will be GillaÍsu’s inheritance, and Tir Eoghain will belong to our next son. I’ll have no more rebellious counts; I’ll hold the land in trust until they are of age to rule it themselves. Ulster’ll be run by one big, happy family, though I think I’ll keep any future conquest to myself…Dublin’s a rich province.

Being a polite chap I can’t let you humiliate yourself and keep aloof myself; so I’ll go one better and say I love you.
Signed, Culad; that man with the brown hair and seductive smile you may remember getting married to a couple of years back.

PS: You’re ‘tiring’, for an assortment of reasons you can probably supply yourself.


Culad put his quill down, grinning as he imagined Margaret’s reaction to that last line; she’d have a field day looking for ulterior meanings, he’d have to ask how many she’d managed to come up with when he got home.

June 3 1068
A messenger rode into Culad’s camp so early in the morning few men were up, travel stained and dusty; his horse struggling for breath and sweat covered. He half fell, half slid from his saddle and began asking the nearest men where he could find either duke Culad or Donchad. It was Donchad he found first; saving no time for formalities the messenger stuffed a letter into the half-awake marshal’s hand, gasping, “Most urgent, from your lady wife.” Donchad called for his squire to take the messenger away and tend to his needs. As soon as he was alone he opened the letter, wondering what Nuala could possibly have to write to him about.

Culad woke to find someone shaking his shoulder, rubbing his eyes he sat up in bed, “What is it now, Donchad? Sigtryg surrendered?”
“No. News from home.” Donchad passed the tip of his tongue over his lips, “Margaret went into labour a little over five days ago.”
“So I broke my promise, she’ll give me an earful when I get back” Culad’s face split with a grin, “If it weren’t for Sigtryg’s stubbornness I’d have been home well in time; well I dare say she’ll forgive me. So what is the child, boy or girl?”
“A son, they christened him Edwin before…before he…died.” the last word was scarcely more than a sigh; Donchad continued to stand awkwardly, unsure of what to do for his kinsman. Culad’s lips worked, but no sound emerged. “Died.” he breathed, “Died…” A single thought jerked Culad from his numb shock, and he leapt out of bed, grasping Donchad by the tunic, and asked urgently, “Margaret? What of her?” Donchad said nothing; he didn’t need to, the answer was written on his haggard, sorrowful face. Culad’s grip loosened, and he collapsed down onto his bed, sitting staring blankly ahead.
“Nuala says it was a difficult labour, more than twenty hours.” Donchad’s voice wavered slightly, but he pressed on, “The midwives did as their creed dictated, christened the child then tried to save the mother even at the cost of the baby. She was bleeding they…they couldn’t stop it, Margaret was exhausted and the child sickly.” his haltering retelling of the contents of the letter was interrupted when Culad stood up; he walked out of his tent, dressed only in his shirt and braies, eyes staring blindly ahead. Oblivious to those speaking to him Culad kept walking until he was long past the outskirts of the camp, away from everyone else. Dazedly he sat on the ground, lost in a world of his own.

Culad didn’t move for the rest of the day, nor the night; he resisted all attempts to move him and ignored everybody who tried to talk to him. Only when Donchad brought him some food and drink in the middle of the night did he break his resemblance to a statue; he kept looking up at the starry sky, and said quietly, “If the stars can tell us the future why didn’t they warn me of this? It needn’t have happened…we didn’t have to have another child.” This said, Culad returned to wherever his mind had retreated.

“What are we going to do?” asked Pilib, keeping his voice low so only his brother officers could hear, “Our duke’s gone mad, we’ve a war to finish and he’s…gone, just gone.”
“He isn’t mad” Donchad’s eyes blazed, “He is not mad The man just found he’s lost his wife and baby son”
Young Tomas bit his lip, “He’s like a man whose heart has been torn out, I’ve never seen the like.” The light in the tent was blocked, as a figure stood in the entrance. At a swift glance anyone could mistake the man for a ghost, so pale was he. Culad had dressed, not in cloth but in mail, his full battle armour except the helmet. When he walked to the centre of the gathering his step was heavy, as if the weight of the world had suddenly dropped onto his shoulders; his face was set in an expressionless mask, but his eyes betrayed his pain, “We’re going to assault the castle. Take no prisoners, but I want Sigtryg alive. Move.”
“Cousin…” began Donchad.
Culad’s head turned and his pain filled eyes met Donchad’s. “Don’t protest; we’re going. I will end this now, today.”
Pilib broke the heavy silence, “We’d best form the men up.”

The battering ram thudded into the gates, the wood protested and began to splinter. Another thud, and the splintering grew; as Culad stood by the ram waiting for the siege crew to finish their work his men dropped about him, hit by missiles flung by the defenders. Breaching the gatehouse was the more dangerous part of the assault, at other points along the walls men were climbing ladders and pouring onto the ramparts, fighting the desperate defenders. The man right next to Culad gurgled and clawed at his throat, and the arrow embedded in it, before dropping to the ground. Culad stared at the corpse dispassionately; the gates gave a final protest before falling open; drawing his sword Culad joined the rush of men pouring through the gap to slaughter the defenders. He’d discarded his shield, choosing to wield his sword in an unorthodox two-handed grip, and now he fought like a man possessed, cutting down any within reach, heedless of the blood that splattered over him. Culad ripped the stomach out of one man, then severed another’s hand, before burying his blade in the shoulder of a third; then it was over, there was nobody left nearby to kill. Culad looked about himself, dazed, as though waking from a dream. He stood alone in the gateway, surrounded by dead and dying; he saw his men running through the castle, slaughtering the defenders without mercy. And he remembered…he remembered…her; Culad’s sword fell from his limp hand, clanging off the flagstones. He dropped to his knees beside it, and wept like a broken man.

The sun was just beginning to set when Sigtryg was shoved through the entrance to Culad’s tent; his hands shackled together, stripped of his armour and weapons. The guard rammed the butt of his spear into Sigtryg’s knees, knocking him to the ground, and forcing him to kneel before Culad. “You may go.” the guard followed his lord’s order, leaving the duke and his count alone together. Culad began pacing restlessly up and down, “Where’s your wife? We’ve not found her yet; I mean her no harm but she can hardly be left running about a castle that’s just fallen to an army with a taste for vengeance after you killed more than half their comrades.”
Sigtryg stayed on his knees, knowing attitude rather than pose spoke truly, “You’ll not find her, I sent her away when it became clear you intended to assault.” Sigtryg’s lips twitched into a sad smile, “I sent her off to safety with Niall, told them to pick up their lives from where I’d interrupted. I’m sure they’ll marry, but it’ll be my child that they care for as their first born, for she’ll love my brat as much as she hated me.” A woman slipped into the tent, carrying a tray with two goblets and a pitcher of wine. Ignored by Culad, she set the tray down on his small table, poured wine into both vessels, and offered one to Culad. He declined; if he started drinking now he’d not stop until he passed out. The woman offered the drink to Sigtryg and he took it gratefully, “Thank you, Agatha.” He raised the goblet in a toast to her, the movement causing his chains to clank, then drank the contents in one go. “Bittersweet, pleasing to the tongue, but I suspect the aftertaste will be less agreeable. Another, if you’d be so kind.” Agatha poured him a refill, and the count drank deeply, before handing her the nearly empty cup. Throughout this Culad had been lost in his own world again, paying no heed to the world about him. Sigtryg probed to find a reason for Culad’s unexpected decision to assault the castle; he based his guess from the dreadful state of the duke, “So how’s things going, then? How’s family?”
Culad answered automatically, still his mind wandering, “Dead, she’s dead…so’s my boy, my second son. Both gone.” He blinked, then snapped back to this world, “Gone, and I wasn’t there because of you I won’t even be there for the funeral, I won’t be back in time and it’s all because of YOU” Culad grasped the chain running between Sigtryg’s wrists and hauled him to his feet, “You’ll die screaming for this”
“I’m sure that’ll help bring them back” said Sigtryg evenly; he could feel his lips beginning to tingle and burn. With a wordless cry of rage and despair Culad threw Sigtryg away from him, watching with grim satisfaction as the count struggled to keep his feet, hampered by his chains. “I am going to have you hung like a common criminal, then your entrails torn out while you still live; no fast, easy end for you. You will die right in the centre of my capital for all to see, watched by little children who’ll remember and boast they were there to see They’ll collect your blood on cloth as souvenirs, to remind them of how they saw you gutted like a fish, torn to shreds screaming and begging for mercy, shaming yourself as you died I’ll have your head on a pike above my castle, and your body hacked up and parts sent to all the major castles and towns in Ulster”
“As you will.” Sigtryg could feel his stomach beginning to hurt now, and he fought to hide the agony, talking in the same even tone as before, “I’m none so certain of what it’ll accomplish, but as you will.”
“Yes, as I will; now if you’d said that in the first place we’d not have had this war, but no, you had to-” Culad halted; Sigtryg had clutched his stomach, stifling a groan. His skin had gone the colour of candle wax, and sweat was beginning to spring out on his forehead. “Poison.” said Culad, suddenly realising the importance of the drink – and the maid – he had all but ignored, “You took poison.”
“Oh yes.” It was hard to talk now, Sigtryg’s lips were going numb and his body was a blaze of agony, “I thought I’d deprive the children of…their plaything…not for me…such an…end.” somehow he forced a triumphant grin, “I out thought…you to the…finish, a good…pupil, but…you’re not good…enough.” Sigtryg slumped forward, his face pressed into the ground, “Promise…me you’ll…leave my…family …alone…”
“I promise.” Culad didn’t know why he said that, only that he did, and he meant it. Sigtryg must have heard; he died with his mouth contorted into a half smile, half grimace, satisfied that while he had lost the war he had beaten his old pupil, and that was what mattered more.




And now perhaps after 97 pages you understand the romance, and the crying smiley under Margaret's last proper appearence. It was the only way to lend her death the same impact it had on my game. One second the world was bright and cheerful; I had an heir and another about to be born, my war was nearly won, everything was going so well...then she died, the child too. I lost my spymaster, my future, my dreams; Culad, too, took it hard, the castle fell as soon as he heard. This changed everything. she was only 23 years old; I knew the event existed, but I never thought it'd happen to me, not like this. No game has ever modeled the high morality rate in childbirth before...I was so certain she'd be alright.

I knew I had to write this story when I thought of Culad kneeling in that gateway, utterly berreft. I could have saved her, you know...so easy to alter history, I've already done it several times, but if I did that then...then the rest of the tale would never happen, and I knew no matter how much I wanted to change things I couldn't, not without causing the story to unravel.

I've killed my favourite character, and one of my other favourites too. That's 3 out of 4, gone, all gone.

:raises a toast: Margaret Atheling, hail and farewell http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/mecry.gif




And so the question is: now what? There is a lot more story in this, but I can tie things neatly off here for a good ending. I don't want to keep posting this if people aren't interested; I can tie this topic off and keep writing it over at paradox, or just keep writing for myself, or I can continue as I am now with two topics.

As you may guess from this point a lot changes, many new characters, new events, a new focus; there is less fighting, I haven't found a way to replace the humour that died with Margaret. It becomes...more character focused, still some skull splitting but it is rarer.

Now what?

[Ludens]

Good grief. I join the toast: Margaret Atheling, you will never be forgotten.

I am still interested in how the story will unfold, so please keep writing it.

[frogbeastegg]

As you may imagine after that last scene I'm a bit burned out; I'll leave the story for today at least, take a break and give people time to decide if they want to keep going on this.

I feel I should emphasise once again how long it is going to be if I continue; you are looking at months of updates on a similar scale to this. Months.

[Axeknight]

http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/mecry.gif *joins toast* To Margeret Atheling, goodbye.

Keep writing, Froggy.

[katank]

yep. margaret was certainly one of the most unique characters around.

story would be tough but keep writing, lady froggy.

perhaps a resurrection of say Fionna would spice things up a bit in terms of replacing the void left by Margaret.

[frogbeastegg]

June 19 1068
Handing the reins of his horse to a groom, Donchad hurried inside out of the evening rain; took his dripping cloak. The staff of his manor hurried about in frenzied panic, rushing to prepare food and beds for their lord and his remaining soldiers, returned unexpectedly from the capital. Donchad caught the arm of a passing maid, “Where’s my wife?”
“In her chamber, my lord, with your daughter.”
Donchad’s eyebrows shot up, “Is she indeed? Send our dinner up there then.” He released the maid, and started towards the staircase that led up to the two bedrooms. At his wife’s door he paused, his hand hovering just above the latch; he braced himself for whatever he might encounter, and opened the door. Whatever he had expected it was not what he found; Nuala and DubEssa were playing with a small rag ball on the floor between the bed and the fireplace. They both looked up when the door opened; Nuala’s face fell into a neutral mask, and DubEssa ran to her mother’s arms, alarmed by this stranger. Donchad stood in the doorway, his damp clothes dripping onto the rush-strewn floor; he felt like an intruder, an intruder in his own home, “It’s nice to see you acting like a mother.” He’d meant it as a compliment, but from the set of Nuala’s jaw he could tell she’d taken it as a slight.
“I’d have thought” she said carefully, “That you’d be with Culad.”
“And that’s what I’d have thought too, but he sent me away, nothing I could do but go.”
“Sometimes it’s reasonable to say no, but you never did think that in any setting – you should have refused to leave, he’ll need his friends.”
“’If at first you don’t succeed keep on bashing away’, let me tell you, my dear wife, that not all of us share you bull headed view of the world.” Donchad knelt next to his daughter, still huddled in her mother’s arms, and gently asked, “Do you remember me? I’m your father.” The little girl nodded obediently, but Donchad could see she had forgotten him in his long absence. His disappointment must have shown, because Nuala said, “She’s not even two yet, she forgets easily.” Donchad rose, and started to unbuckle his sword belt, covering the sense of betrayal he felt, that his daughter had forgotten him but obviously loved the mother who never wanted her, “I ordered that food be sent up here; I thought we might manage a civil meal together.” He set the weapon aside, dumping it on the bed.
“As you wish.” Nuala stood, and took DubEssa’s hand, walking her slowly over to the door, “I’ll send her back to her nurse then, civil or not I doubt either of us want her to watch.” Several minutes later Nuala came back alone, to find a tray of food had been delivered. “I sent the servants away” said Donchad, “I thought we’d serve ourselves.” his lips twisted in a bitter smile, “A tender reunion, one victorious soldier back from the wars and his wife…I doubt we need witnesses.”
“If you say so.” replied Nuala coolly.
“I do say so.” Donchad began picking the covers off the assorted platters and bowls on the tray, “Roast chicken, assorted boiled vegetables, salmon pie; truly a wondrous feast for my homecoming with no expense spared.”
“We didn’t know you were going to get back today; not that it would have mattered – you told all the servants to ignore my orders, remember? I can hardly whip up a celebratory feast, even if I want to.”
“I remember, and I also remember why I did that; though now Sigtryg’s dead I may be persuaded to change things a little, maybe.” Donchad transferred a piece of chicken to his trencher, cut a bit off and impaled it on the tip of his eating knife, “What, no comment?”
“Where’s the point? You’ll decide and I’ll have to follow, same as usual.”
Donchad swallowed his chicken, “Not this time, oh no, not this time. You’ll not cause me to lose my temper; I’ll not be twisted into displaying my worst side yet again.”
“I wasn’t trying to provoke you, we both know who loses when we fight – me. I was simply stating the truth, saving us a bit of time.”
“So that’s the way of things, is it? Fine, I’ll play along, this is what we are going to do; we will stop this endless bickering, you will stop sniping at me and in return I’ll keep better control of my temper. You act the perfect wife, and I’ll let you have some more freedom, if you’re going to act the part you’ll need the power, but I’ll have your word that you’ll consult with me before doing anything major. You will stop painting me as some kind of monster, stop trying to make me into one, and above all you will stop cowering every time I enter this room. You can also stop trying to leave me, for I’ll never allow it – we’re bound together in this, like it or not, there’s no way out of this marriage except one of us dying or taking religious orders, and I doubt either of us is willing to make that sacrifice for the other’s joy. Now, anything you want to add?”
“I want a lock back on my door; the other things I won’t bother asking about, I know you’ll protest innocence and we’ll be back fighting yet again.”
“And already you try to skip out of the dutiful wife part; okay, I can take a hint, I’ll take my passions elsewhere. Not much point in confining them to you anyway, unless you’ve changed your mind about more children?”
“I don’t want to die.”
“Very well, I’ll ignore you unless I feel like a dose of hypothermia; you, on the other hand, will most certainly not take a lover or anything of the type – I’ll not have DubEssa’s parentage called into question. So, that’s settled then; we shall exist in polite civility from this point on.”
Donchad kept eating, but Nuala didn’t touch the food in front of her. When he reached for a piece of salmon pie she asked, “Since I have to ask before I can do any thing, I want to sack the cook; he knows I hate salmon pie and he’s been serving it nightly for months to taunt me.”
“He’s a good cook; we’re keeping him.”
“Then you’ll at least allow me to ban him from ever making salmon pie again?”
“Oh very well, if you really must act on this grudge.” Donchad watched his wife pick at a piece of carrot, playing with it rather than eating it. “Why the sudden change of heart towards DubEssa?”
“Hardly sudden; you were gone for four months you know. A little bit of age goes a long way; in small doses she is…tolerable. Time heals; I’m finally forgetting just how close to death I came, how bad it all was.” They both went silent, remembering how Margaret had died. “We should have been like them.” said Nuala softly.
“Like who?”
“Culad and Margaret, who else? We should have been like them…happy.”

June 20 1068
Fionnghualla knocked on the door to Culad’s study; there was no response, but she knew he was in there. Cautiously she opened the door; Culad was sat at his table staring aimlessly into the distance, “Get out.”
“No.” Fionnghualla shut the door firmly behind herself, making it clear she intended to go nowhere, “You’ve got a realm to run; I am here for your decisions on several matters, also to broach an important matter of-”
“Got out” repeated Culad.
“Not until my business is finished.”
“GET OUT” roared Culad, throwing the closest thing to hand at her; Fionnghualla dodged out of the way of the inkhorn, but still got splashed with some ink when it hit the wall. Shooting a furious glare at the duke she spun and stomped out of the room, leaving the door to slam shut or not as the fancy took it. She did not remain gone for long; bursting back in with GillaÍsu tucked under her arm, carrying him with the awkwardness of one unfamiliar with children. She shoved the boy into Culad’s arms, “Look at him.” she ordered; when Culad failed to comply she grabbed his ear and twisted it until he obeyed, “Does that look like it can rule Ulster? Does it look independent? No, that brat needs you, and you’re determined to die. Do you think she’d thank you for this? I don’t – I think she’d be disgusted, disgusted and horrified that you’re so selfish that you ignore your child, choosing to waste away rather than pull yourself together and carry on.” she could see she was beginning to get through to him, so she softened her tone, “It hurts, live with it.”
Culad hugged GillaÍsu protectively to his chest, “What did you want?”
“That maid who poisoned Sigtryg, you’ll let her go now.”
“No”
“You will; vengeance will bring you nothing but grief when you realise what you’ve done; let her go home to England.”
“I can’t; she cheated me of Sigtryg’s death. I was going to make an example of him.”
“Oh yes you can; can and will – you were never going to execute Sigtryg, you haven’t the stomach for it. All she did was save him from a lifetime locked away, and if you think on it you’ll see she saved you a lot of money; prisoners are expensive, even if you put them in your worst dungeon and barely feed them. Exile her back to her homeland.”
“No, she’ll die at my convenience.”
“Will no one lend me strength before I throttle you?” declared an exasperated Fionnghualla, “Did I just waste a year helping keep your rear on that ducal throne only to have you go useless on me? You’ll not kill her, you just like to think so; I’m beginning to wish I’d killed you and gone to work for Sigtryg as he suggested At least that man had the sense to admit what he could and could not do”
“I said she’ll die, and I mean it.”
“So be it, I’ll have her brought up and you can behead her or somesuch; get it over with, she’s cluttering up my cells – I’m a spymaster, not a prison guard.”
“Bring her up then, if you’re so insistent on removing her quickly, bring her up and send someone to fetch my sword.” Fionnghualla went and quickly gave the orders to a nearby guard, before waiting in silence with Culad. Agatha arrived before the sword, chained at the wrists, pale and filthy after days of imprisonment in a dungeon. Culad stood, and carefully placed his son on the chair, before starting to pace in circles impatiently around Agatha. When his sword was delivered he ripped the blade clear of the sheath, and tossed both scabbard and sword belt into a corner. Agatha went pale, under the grime coating her skin, “What…?”
“You’re going to die.” Fionnghualla cheerfully informed her, “Our lord duke has decided he’s going to kill you right here in front of his infant son, spilling gore all over his study, and staining his hands with the blood of a defenceless woman.”
“Silence” ordered Culad, pressing the tip of his sword into Agatha’s neck; his hand shook, and he accidentally cut her, a thin trickle of blood ran down her neck. The Saxon closed her eyes and began to pray, her lips moving silently, resolved to die with dignity. Culad’s hand was shaking so badly he could barely keep the weapon aimed at her throat; he held his pose for a long time, before sighing and throwing his sword down, “Damn it.”
“Exile then?” inquired Fionnghualla merrily; Culad nodded, and Fionnghualla patted Agatha on the shoulder, “There, there, it’s all over; hope you don’t get sea sick on the way back. By the way, if you do anything else to harm Ulster I’ll assassinate you myself, have a nice trip.” The stunned prisoner was ushered from the room by the same guards who had brought her up. Told you.” said Fionnghualla smugly, picking the sword up and putting it safely back in its sheath.
“Is that all?” Culad sat back down with his son on his lap, the boy grabbed the discarded quill pen from the table in front of him and began to chew on it, Culad didn’t notice, “Can I be shot of you now?”
“One last thing; the coffers are all but empty, our armies are depleted and Ulster is vulnerable, your succession is not secure. You must marry again.”
“I have a son.”
“Children die; you need more of them, and you need a new wife with a good dowry to pay your bills.”
“I won’t let GillaÍsu die”
“Oh, so you’re God now? I always wanted to be spymaster for someone powerful.”
Culad hung his head, “There’s no getting away from it, is there? I’ve been thinking up excuses for days, but I knew…I can’t even wait a few months, can I?”
”No.” confirmed Fionnghualla with more sympathy than might be expected, “There’s only one local candidate of suitable rank, wealth and so on; Dubchoblaig O’ Reibly.”
“Details?”
“Dark hair, light brown eyes, not too bad skin, large dowry, some land, twelve years old-”
“Twelve? No, no way in hell”
“Why ever not? She’s very suitable.”
“No way am I marrying and bedding a child I don’t care what the church says, or her family, or even what she says – I have more mature tastes, thank you very much”
“Oh how very squeamish. In that case you’ll have to go foreign again.” Fionnghualla pulled out a list she had tucked through her girdle, and put it on the table before Culad. He picked it up and quickly skimmed the list, “So then, headache, which one’ll it be? You choose.” he picked his son’s podgy hand up and positioned it over the list, “Go on, pick a name.” GillaÍsu frowned in concentration, and then stabbed his finger at a name, proclaiming one of his very few words, “Duck.”
“Eve of Mar.” read Culad, “Eve of Mar…Scotland?”
“Yes, one of the north-eastern lords. Before you ask she’s seventeen…just.”
“Seventeen?” Culad pulled a face at his son, “Well I suppose to your excuse that’s mature from your whole one year; seventeen…so much for my preference for mature, I was thinking twenty at the least.”
“If you really want I can send a proposal to Ella de Normandy, she’s forty-nine,” suggested Fionnghualla acidly.
“No” Culad looked horrified at that prospect, “No, Eve’ll do just fine, seventeen’s not that young when you think about it, and ten year age differences are quite common, so there must be something good about having a much younger wife, right?”
“Good, I’ll send the proposal.” Fionnghualla swept from the room before he could contradict her; striding off down the corridor towards her own room, examining the ink stains on the sleeve of her dark blue dress and frowning in displeasure when she saw some ink had worked its way onto her white linen under dress. “Shock tactics: success. Gained: one fully functioning duke. Outcome: back to business as usual.”





In case you can't tell this is setting up for a continuation of the story, rather than a neat ending with what's here. Don't say I didn't warn you when we're still here far into the future.

“We should have been like them.” said Nuala softly.
“Like who?”
“Culad and Margaret, who else? We should have been like them…happy.”
Swap the speakers and the people being talked about around and you've got the same line that started the Culad/Margaret romance; that line has been both the beginning and the end of a love affair, how poetic http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/geishatongue.gif

[scooter_the_shooter]

we will not foget margaret http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/mecry.gif good charactor your a genius froggy

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ June 16 2004,18:03)]“We should have been like them.” said Nuala softly.
“Like who?”
“Culad and Margaret, who else? We should have been like them…happy.”
Erm... I know you had this planned, but I just figured out the irony of this. Nuala and Donch married in love and fell out of love; Culad and Margeret married out of love and fell in love. Very clever http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif - Sorry it's taken so long for me to realize it.

I'm not going to offer any comment on writing style anymore. You don't need it, your writing style is great. I'm only going to comment on the story itself now, as I feel I can be of use there. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif

[frogbeastegg]

July 24 1068
Safe inside a second floor room in commandeered tavern Culad watched the rain through the open window, leaning his elbows on the windowsill and watching the people running to cover in the muddy, puddle strewn street below. Even the dockworkers had taken shelter, although they were told to expect an important ship today. “At least the weather’ll make her feel at home.” said Donchad, sat at the room’s only table with Fionnghualla and Dunsleive, the only members of Culad’s court who had come with him to meet Eve. “I thought” volunteered Dunsleive cautiously, “that a sunny day would have been nicer for the young lady.”
“You? Think?” Fionnghualla laughed, “Since when did you have the capacity to think?”
Dunsleive sank lower in his chair, “Yes, dear.”
“Your problem, or should I say one of your many problems, is that you’re an incurable romantic.”
“If you say so, dear.”
“I do say so – if you weren’t you wouldn’t have dragged me to the altar claiming I’d grow to love you, just as you loved me.”
“I have apologised for that, dear, most profusely over the years.”
Donchad couldn’t stand seeing his brother being trampled, “You’re right though, Fionnghualla, if he’d not got burdened with you he’d have far fewer troubles.”
“Oh how very loyal, rushing to your brother’s aid.” Fionnghualla gave Donchad a small round of applause, “I suppose you expect me to quail and back down now? I think not, for I told him if he married me I’d make his life a living hell; obviously he didn’t listen, and that’s his own fault. Unlike Nuala and most others I won’t be trampled, thank you very much. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’ll go see if our host can find some food that wasn’t scraped from a pig trough.” She stood and began to walk to the door, as usual her gait more a march than the demure step a woman was supposed to use. Donchad shrugged his shoulders and said nonchalantly, “Seeing you marching about like that enlightens me to the cause of your strange behaviour, and I’m sorry I’ve been so insensitive, for it’s hardly your fault you’ve no idea how to behave now, it is? When your education’s so lacking you do have to muddle by as best you’re able.”
Fionnghualla had halted near the beginning of his speech, and she now blessed Donchad with a beautiful smile; her posture and attitude shifted slightly, transforming her into a completely different woman, one who looked like the delicate noble she was supposed to be. She spoke in courtly French, “My dear sir, I do believe you vastly mistaken; I am as well mannered and bred as any in Ulster. I would dutifully submit that walking swiftly in skirts is a simple matter of learning to stride while kicking the material out of your way, quite easy with practise. I would also submit that manners are only worthwhile when used in the presence of those with the sophistication and wit to appreciate them, and I find this gathering to be rather lacking, with the exception of our lord duke, of course. Pray excuse me.” she dipped a perfect curtsey and walked sedately from the room, closing the door silently behind herself.
Donchad shook his head, “Well who’d have thought? She can actually be nice…in a horrific kind of way. I still don’t see how you put up with her, Dunsleive, I really don’t. I suspect I’d be plotting murder inside of a week.”
“Though some may see her as full of fault I see strength, courage, and determination to control her own life in a world that accords that privilege to precious few; she is remarkable.”
Donchad looked at his brother’s glowing face and sighed, “Even after all this time you’re still living in hopeful worship; she’ll not change her mind on you.”
“Maybe not; she insists she finds the fact I still have feelings for her pitiable, but somehow I suspect deep down she’s rather gratified, she’d not admit that, not even to herself.”
“Living in hope, eating faint gratitude, always impeccably kind, a gentle soul through and through – you should have been a monk, brother.”
“We’re not all born to fight, Donchad. I’m a man of peace, and the world needs more of them to counter you warriors.”
“Stuck with Fionnghualla I’d fight and die fighting, rather than give up as you’ve done. You should try being the man of war once in a while, it’d do wonders.”
“Advice from my little brother; after the mess you’ve made of your marriage I think I’ll ignore it.” Dunsleive looked uncomfortable, it wasn’t in his nature to hurt or criticise others, “I’m sorry, but I mean that your advice is not suited to me, or even to you, however much it may work for others. She hasn’t killed me, she’s had plenty of chance to and with her parents dead she’d not be forced to marry again, but she hasn’t killed me; that must mean something. Perhaps you’ll excuse me? I’ve a fancy to get some air.”
“So the bitch keeps you alive to sharpen her claws on, what’s so great about that?” muttered Donchad at his brother’s retreating back. Dunsleive froze, “I’ll not have you speak of her like that.”
“It’s the truth.” replied Donchad, deciding to brazen his mistake out; he’d not thought his brother would hear, “She’s a kinslayer and someone should remove her from this life to pay her debts.”
“You will not say that.” Dunsleive was still calm, but his eyes were blazing and his hands and knotted into fists; it was so rare for him to be anything other than totally placid that both Donchad and Culad were taken aback. Dunsleive took a few steps back towards his brother, “You will not say that, not now, nor ever.”
“She murdered her parents.” said Culad almost inaudibly, “Margaret was confident, and Fionnghualla all but admitted it when asked.”
“If she’d given me the chance I’d have killed them for her, well the father at least, since they don’t allow women to duel personally in matters of honour.”
“You? Kill?” Donchad was seeing a side of his brother he’d never even suspected existed, “Why?”
“I didn’t like my bride turning up more than half starved and battered; I’m sure you’re partly familiar with the usual methods for forcing someone to a marriage they don’t want. Male or female, it works eventually; everyone has a breaking point. My suit was deemed too valuable to lose through her lack of interest; it’s a common enough happening, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I didn’t get chance; the in-laws dropped dead of her poison before I could challenge them legally.” Dunsleive smiled tightly when he was the stunned looks on their faces, “Tell me, how else did you think you’d persuade someone like Fionnghualla to do something she really doesn’t want to? She never wanted me, and she’s never hidden that, so how else did you think her consent was got? I didn’t know she hadn’t changed her mind of her own will until she turned up at the tiny church for the private ceremony her parents had suggested, but if you know her and how she thinks of me, well is it not obvious?”
Neither Culad nor Donchad could find an answer; Dunsleive’s anger abated, “Now we’ll speak no more of this, for she’d not thank me for it. I’m going to get some air, even if I’ll drown in the rain.” When he’d left Culad resumed his vigil, waiting for Eve’s ship to come into view. Donchad took out a piece of wood and began carving it into a horse to take home for DubEssa.

The rain continued to pour down when Eve’s ship finally docked; Culad rushed out to show the passengers where they could find shelter in the tavern. The party only consisted of three people; a tall, lanky young monk with tousled red hair that all but hid his new tonsure, and eyes that were that rare shade of moss green. The other two passengers were more problematic to Culad, they were both young ladies and he couldn’t guess which one was Eve. His dilemma was solved when shorter of the two stepped forward, dropped a neat curtsey and said in quiet voice that those more than a few feet away had to strain to hear, in very careful Irish, “Greetings, my lord, I am Eve of Mar.” Although her head was modestly tilted at the floor Culad could tell she was studying him through her eyelashes. Something about the way she had spoken bothered Culad, “Let me guess – you don’t understand a word of what you’ve just said?” She looked up in mute incomprehension, her grey-blue eyes as unreadable as her pale face. The monk stepped forward, “My lord, lady Eve has not yet had time to learn your speech. I am translator; I have reasonable Irish.”
“She’s been sent out here with just a monk and a maid, not knowing a word of Irish?” Culad couldn’t hide his astonishment. He saw Eve swallow nervously, her eyes flicking to the monk for translation of why he seemed so upset. Culad tried to look reassuring, “You’d best tell her I’m not angry with her, merely astonished she’s been sent here like this.” Then monk complied; Eve spoke, again she was so softly spoken you had to be close to hear well. The monk translated, “Firstly I am called Colban; my lady reminds me of need to say so. She says also that not to be upset, there are many more on the ship who will be going home now, they follow for safety of trip. She was not unesc…unescor…unlooked after”
“If I may?” asked Donchad, stepping forward from the corner where he’d been waiting with Fionnghualla and Dunsleive, “I’m fluent in Scots from those years I spent in service to my mother’s brother, and I think my Irish is passable.”
“So be it.” said Culad in rapid Irish, not wanting the monk to understand, “Now tell her something poetic or profound.”
“You’ll not be thinking up your own compliments? How lazy” Donchad grinned and inclined his head in a slight bow to Eve, saying something in Scottish. Whatever it was he said it didn’t go down too well, her serious face picking up a very slight frown. As quietly and politely as ever she said something that made Donchad flush. He translated it back, “I told her that her hair was like gold; she said that’s not true, for it’s obviously a dark blonde, and nothing like gold. Um, she was very polite about it, I’m paraphrasing here; she said it was a nice compliment anyway.”
Somewhere, deeply hidden under the serious exterior, Culad thought he could see a hint of fear; unbidden Margaret’s voice stirred in his memory, “All but alone in a strange land, to marry a man I barely knew. I’d have given anything for more time to get to know you, to settle down in this country.” “This won’t do.” he said firmly, “Not at all – how’s she supposed to say her vows if she can’t speak Irish? How’s she supposed to handle my household? No, it’s quite impossible. How long’ll it take you to teach her enough Irish, Donchad?”
“Er…six months? More, less, I don’t know apt she’ll be, do I?”
“Take six months, surrounded by the language she should learn quickly.” Culad looked at the gawky young monk, and couldn’t help but smile, “You can give our monk a refresher course too, for proprieties sake.”




Genius, aw shucks :blushes:

Axeknight I only thought of using that line several nights ago at 1AM; I knew what I was doing story wise, but I hadn't spotted how apt that line was to both situations. One of my better ideas caused by restless sleep.

Update to character lisitng will follow when I think of a description for Eve.

[scooter_the_shooter]

i like it i thought that it would be broing after margret died but its still good http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/ceasaryes.gif

[katank]

yep. quite interesting.

this has transited to much more of a character driven story as we get more from Donchad's brother and Culad's emotions regarding a new bride.

interesting to see how it develops if he's hearing Margaret's voice all the time.

[frogbeastegg]

So unwary readers can'r say I didn't warn them:
Content warning as demanded by amphibian censorship
Excessive death warning: more than 1,000 people die in the first 100 pages.
Language warning: Culad tends to be upset when his vassals betray him.
Other language warning: this does contain jokes you may or may not get.
Content warning: this is not a happy happy story, Bad Things happen.
Other content warning: features assorted deaths caused by people accidentally falling on daggers and similar.
Horror warning: the assorted outcomes of the various marriages may give you nightmares.
Character warning: Fionnghualla should not be imitated at home for the sake of the mental welfare of nearby bystanders.
Morality warning: this story has medieval morals, people do things that are not acceptable today.
Other morality warning: people kiss. And stuff. Mush exists.
Health warning: this story may damage your eyes, it is long, very long.
Addiction warning: many users of Red hand have reported a growing need to find out what happens next.
Other addiction warning: that mush appears to be even more addicitve than the rest of the story.
Racial warning: features jokes at the expense of the Normans.
History warning: this story is not exactly accurate, all nitpickers should avoid.
Child warning: unfortunately the editors could find no way to remove this peril; read at your own risk.

Half serious, half joking; some of this is not really family friendly.

Updated character listing with:
Eve of Mar: seventeen going on forty
Colban: Father Abbot's not so favourite monk

[scooter_the_shooter]

lol http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-jester.gif

[katank]

nice listing http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/cool.gif

when do we get the next chapter? *withdrawal symptoms*

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ June 18 2004,13:49)]Addiction warning: many users of Red hand have reported a growing need to find out what happens next.
Wha? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/flat.gif

Addicted? Me? Nah, I'm cool, man, I can handle it. So, Froggy, when's the next part up? DAMN IT, WHEN? WHEN? So cold... So cold...

[frogbeastegg]

As soon as he could Donchad drew Culad to one side away from the rest of the small gathering, “What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, “One translated church service where she only has to nod will see you wed, and don’t be forgetting your household’s run itself for more than a month now.”
“I know.” said Culad, keeping his voice low, “Believe me I know.”
“It’s a damn risky game you’re playing, and I’m not seeing why – if her father finds out he’ll be insulted”
“How’d he find out? The ship’s already left, it’s just us, her, the monk and the maid; I doubt any of them can walk on water back to Mar. Time, Donchad, I’m playing for time, time for both of us; I’ll not repeat the same mistakes as last time.”
“She’ll think you don’t like her, no, to be honest she’ll think you hate her so much you’re looking for a way out”
“And that, cousin, is why you’re going to explain things to her, discreetly so none but the three of us know.” Culad started to walk away, but Donchad grabbed his arm and pulled him back, “Now wait a moment – I can’t just wander up to her and ask to speak to her alone, you know what people’d say Your betrothed, your plan, your funeral too if things go awry, so you’re going to request a talk with her and I’ll translate.”
“If I must.” replied Culad unenthusiastically, “But you know I hate standing about like a spare chair, so keep thing brief.” Culad and Donchad made their way across the tavern main room to where Eve and her tiny party sat, quietly edgy, watching the tavern staff hurry about preparing to serve a meal for them upstairs in the better rooms. Donchad bowed, and said something that caused the maid to lean her head close to Eve’s and say something. Eve said something back; it appeared her quietness was a trait and therefore unlikely to change when she settled in to her new home. “What did they say?” asked Culad.
“The maid said meeting us alone without reliable escort was unseemly; Eve replied that hiding behind a monk or lady’s maid was hardly going to help if we did have less than honourable intentions.”
“Practical girl.”
“Apparently. Now she’s saying that you’re her future husband and I’m your kinsman, so calling us unreliable is hardly a good idea. There’s a nice Scottish saying mixed in there too, but it doesn’t translate too well…but I’d go with ‘when stood next to the devil don’t pull his tail’.”
“Devil?” asked Culad, rather hurt, “I’m a devil?”
“No, that’s just the translation problems, it’s more a case of don’t antagonise until you’re in a safe position to do so.”
“Very sensible, isn’t she?” it was the best Culad could do, he was lost for any more suitable reply. “Look, just tell them that we’re only going to the far corner of this room; a private conversation in the public eye, so no cause for alarm.” Before Donchad could translate Eve shook off the maid and stood, patiently waiting for someone to tell her where to go. Culad courteously offered her his arm, and walked her over to one of the many vacant tables in the tavern, as far away from everyone else as he could get. Once they were all seated he told Donchad, “Now tell her what I just said to you.”
Donchad and Eve talked for a bit, then Donchad swapped back to Irish, “She says that is very kind of you, but she has never seen the point in being frivolous or foolish.”
Culad’s face creased in a frown, “What?”
“You called her sensible, remember?”
“You idiot You translated the wrong thing” Culad was not exactly gratified to see the corners of Eve’s mouth quirk upwards almost imperceptibly at his consternation. “Translate what I said about delaying things; get it right this time you great dolt”
Culad sat through Donchad’s lengthy translation; Eve inclined her head in his direction and said something. “She says, and this is literal, thank you for your consideration, my lord. It is greatly appreciated.”
“My lord? Please don’t tell me she keeps calling me that.”
“Oh aye, just about in every other breath; she’s very polite.”
“You could ask her to stop it, please? It makes me feel old.”
“I’m none so sure that’d be a good idea, let it wait a while then ask her yourself.”
“Ye Gods; polite, sensible, practical, and I’ve this uncanny feeling she’ll be telling my tunic hem’s hanging crooked next.” Eve said something, Donchad replied at length; whatever he said made the corners of her mouth twitch again. Donchad translated her reply, “Um, she asked what we were saying so I told her-”
Culad pressed the first two fingers of his right hand to the bridge of his nose, “You’re not supposed to translate things like that”
“Er, well she said now that you mention it your tunic hem is crooked.”
The cousins exchanged a look, “You know” said Culad, “she reminds me of my old nurse, though she’s been dead more than ten years now. If she advises me against going out in the rain I’ll be willing to swear she’s my old nurse’s soul in a new body.” Culad rose, bowed politely to her, and left.
“What did he say, please?” asked Eve quietly.
Donchad felt torn between loyalty to his friend and a desire to see just what she’d say if he told her. The devil on his left shoulder won, “He said you remind him of his old nurse, all you need to do is tell him not to go out in the rain.”
“I see. There are more important things in life than rain; it doesn’t matter if you get wet, nor if your tunic is crooked.”
Donchad gaped at her, before catching himself and scrabbling back towards firmer ground, “I think Culad likes you.” that mischievous devil poked him, and he couldn’t resist adding, “He likes the way you call; him ‘my lord’, he’s fond of politeness.”
“I will remember that. If you will please excuse me I should return to my companions.” she waited until Donchad nodded, then rose and left.

August 3 1068
Since it was a sunny day Donchad had elected to take both his pupils outside and conduct the lesson in the quiet, walled in garden. Both he and Colban sat on one of the stone benches, but to Donchad’s surprise Eve elected to settle down on the grass. “Now where to begin?” wondered Donchad out aloud.
“If I may, I do have a question?” said Eve softly.
Donchad leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and smiled at her, “Be my guest.”
“I have heard people speak of lord Culad with another name; I would know what it means.” Eve’s serious face combined with her quiet voice and solemn demeanour to make the question sound a matter of life or death. She struggled slightly to remember the Irish she had overheard, “Culad the Lusty.”
“Oh.” Donchad felt himself going hot; he would bet a fortunate that he was blushing, it was the first time he’d ever been embarrassed by his friend’s nickname. He looked from youthful monk to serious young lady and back again – how in heaven’s name was he supposed to tell them what it meant? “Er, well you see…it’s from something he’s famous for.”
“Like a battle?” asked Colban, his face lighting up with a fervour that you’d not expect a monk to possess, “Is it for his deeds in battle?”
“Well…not as such.” “Damn you, Culad When I see you again I’ll give you a piece of my mind for this”
“Is it from his laws then?” Colban guessed.
“Only if he’s breaking them” “No, I’d not say that.”
“Then what?” Those cool blue-grey eyes looked at him unwaveringly, glinting with curiosity.
“It’s…to do with…how he interacts with people.” said Donchad, clutching at straws and praying they’d be happy with a vague answer.
“Oh, like Culad the Trusting, or Culad the Merciful?” now the monk’s moss green eyes were following him as well; Donchad decided that he’d be more at ease if he were on trial for his life.
“Well…” he stammered, “In a way, yes I do suppose so…but not trusting or merciful…more…um.” “Question: how do you tell some sheltered young thing that her future husband’s got a long history of chasing women? Answer: I don’t know”
“Is it” interjected Eve, still searching Donchad with eyes that never seemed to blink, “something to do with women?”
“Um…” Donchad nodded; by now he thought he must be so red he’d be visible from a mile away on a clear day. “It’s Culad the Lusty.” his explanation was barely audible, but his audience caught it anyway.
“I see.” if Eve was upset she gave nothing away.
Colban, on the other hand, looked as though he was about to be sick, and went as pale as a sheet, “Excuse me.” he mumbled, stumbling out of the garden with no further excuse.
Donchad watched the escaping monk, astonished, “What’s the matter with the monk? I’d have expected a lecture, but not a panicked flight.”
“I don’t know.” admitted Eve, “I don’t know him very well.”
“He’s about your age.” said Donchad, as if that meant she should understand him.
“He’s male.” she returned evenly, by the same token.
Donchad sat up straight, searching Eve for signs that she may be distressed by this news but too proud to show it, “I would have thought you’d be the one who was upset.”
The blue-grey eyes gave nothing away, “I see.”
“I don’t.” Donchad found himself talking without meaning to, “I don’t at all; being wed to a man whose interest usually only lasts a few months, it’s…terrible.”
“Tell me, are you always faithful to your wife?” Donchad’s silence gave him away; a small flash of what could be triumph flitted across Eve’s face, vanishing before Donchad could even be certain it had existed, “Precisely; not many are. We marry for practicality, not love and for men adultery is easy; the church may condemn it, but few care, unless it involves another man’s wife. Some part peasant bastard does nothing to harm your bloodlines; unfortunately the same cannot be said of any children an adulterous woman might have. It has been decided I will marry Culad, and so I will. I never expected to be tied to someone who was interested in me and me alone.”
“You are so…” Donchad searched for the right word.
“Sensible?” supplied Eve, “I would say so; there is little point in dashing my heart to shreds over something women are taught to put up with before they can even walk.”
“You aren’t human, I’m convinced of it” exclaimed Donchad.
“Tell me this, how long was he married to this Margaret?”
“Over two years.”
“And not once did he stray?”
“No, it was rather disappointing to those of us who’d placed bets on how long it’d take before he wandered.” at the look on her face Donchad hastily explained, “I’m joking on that last”
“Then how can I ever hope to compete with that?”
“You can’t.” admitted Donchad.
“Exactly; better to recognise that now and escape unscathed then to delude myself thinking otherwise.”
Donchad studied the grave figure in front of him, “Seventeen going on forty; disconcerting.” “It’s easy to decide on something, but reality seldom flows the way you want it to, and nor do feelings. You can’t just decide it won’t bother you and expect it to be so.”
If Eve noticed the rebuke in his words she ignored it, “We shall see when the time comes.”
“Don’t be so deterministic”
“Realistic.” she corrected.


Eve and Colban, two slow burning characters.

That first scene should really have been posted with yesterday's part, oh well, such is life.

[scooter_the_shooter]

i like it she seems like a robot lol. i want to see how long she can keep it up

[frogbeastegg]

August 26 1068
Culad’s destrier fidgeted, pawing the ground with a hoof. Firmly settled in his high war saddle Culad swung his lance into position and brought his shield up to guard his front left side. He touched his spurs to the animal’s flanks, and his horse leapt forward, slightly faster than Culad would have liked. He focused on the small loop of wood hanging from a stake at the other end of the practise court, barely visible at this distance; the jingle of his armour and horse harness faded from his world. He focused, watching the way the loop bobbed and swayed in the light breeze, the beat of his horse’s hooves also fading into unnoticed oblivion. There was nothing in his world but the point of his lance and the hoop that was his target, rushing towards him at a gallop. At the last second a gust of wind caught the target, sending it spinning away, with a flick of his wrist Culad swung his lance to the left; the sharpened tip of his lance gouged a scar in the wood, but snagged the loop, breaking it free from the rope holding it lightly to the post. The world returned in a rush; above the noise of his equipment and horse Culad could hear enthusiastic clapping. Slowing his horse to a walk he uncouched his lance, dipped the point downwards so the target fell off then put the weapon in the rest position, with the butt of the weapon on his right stirrup to take the weight off his arm. His appreciative fan turned out to be the Scottish monk, Colban; Culad rode over to meet him at the sidelines of the court.
“Excellent Truly an excellent sight, my lord duke” enthused the youngster, his Irish vastly improved in the month since had had first set foot on these shores. He went to the stallion’s head and patted him on the nose, “He is a fine animal.” The horse bared his teeth and shook his head; Culad rubbed the animal’s neck, “Easy, Storm; you’d best get back, monk.”
“I’m not afraid, my lord duke, I’ve always been what my kin called horse hearted.”
“You should be afraid, Storm’s a warhorse.” Culad thrust the tip of his lance deep into the ground, then rode a short distance away from the monk; touching his spurs to Storm’s flanks, causing the horse to rear and kick out with his front hooves, then to buck and kick with his hind legs. He worked the animal around in a tight circle, turning on the spot while the horse searched for something stupid enough to come into biting range. Colban watched this display with wide, admiring eyes; finally Culad calmed his mount and rode back over, “If I command it he’ll kick you, if he decides it he’ll bite you, and trust me that neither is a pleasant experience, assuming you survive. Storm’s what my groom calls a right bastard at heart; he doesn’t like many people.” Colban slowly walked up to the animal, and ran a gentle hand down his neck, “Called Storm and no small wonder; black as rain clouds, your hooves sound like thunder, you’ll strike rapidly and without warning, and few could stop you. You’re a beauty of an animal.” Storm turned his head and nuzzled at the monk’s robe; Colban switched his attention to caressing the horse’s nose.
From up in his saddle Culad watched, amazed, “No one’s ever managed to get on with this brute so fast, nor so well; he’ll only allow myself and my groom near him without threatening to bite or something.”
“I’m horse hearted, or so they say.” replied the monk distantly, absorbed with the horse.
Culad swung down from his saddle and moved to take the horse’s reins, but checked, “Would you like to lead him back to the stables?” The look of worshipful gratitude on the young man’s face drew a grin from Culad, and he added, “Tell you want, if you can do something with those monk’s skirts you can take a short ride; I’m strangely convinced he’ll not throw you or otherwise try to break your neck.”
“Thank you, my lord” Colban kilted his skirts up, then mounted up, the unfamiliar high front and back of the war saddle giving him a little trouble; when he was settled Culad couldn’t help but think he looked more at home on horseback than on foot as a monk. Colban touched his heel to Storm’s side and started to loop about the large yard at a walk, keeping a gentle hand on the reins and an easy seat. He didn’t wait long before moving to a canter, then to a full gallop, seemingly totally confidant in both his skills and his mount. After several laps of the yard he pulled to a halt near Culad and reluctantly slipped down from the saddle.
“If you ever decide to quit being a monk you’re more than welcome to become my groom.” said Culad; Colban’s face fell, he mumbled an excuse about his Irish lessons starting for the day soon, and departed quickly, almost running. “Now what was that about?” Wondered Culad, leading his horse to his stable, “As keen as anything, then you compliment him and he flees. Strange lad.”

It was an uncommonly cold day for the time of year; Donchad had been forced to hold his daily language lesson’s in the castle’s solar. While Culad might enjoy practising his fighting skills in the bracing air Donchad preferred a warmer setting for playing with the novelties of language, and he was certain both his pupils would agree. Eve and Donchad sat at opposite sides of a table in front of the fire blazing in the fireplace, playing chess and watched by Colban. The monk had admitted total ignorance as to the game, and now he studied them to learn the basics. Donchad pushed his rook four squares to the left, “Check and mate.” he proclaimed with a triumphant grin.
“That was cruel.” Eve informed him.
Donchad picked up his cup of small ale and took a sip, studying her over the rim, “I’d have thought you not bothered about losing.”
“Yes, that is true, but how can our monk…” she faltered, and swapped from Irish to Scottish, “ever hope to learn if you end the game so quickly?”
“He can learn how to lose gracefully by watching you?” suggested Donchad.
Eve’s seriousness cracked, her face lit up in a smile; it only lasted a second, she lapsed back to her usual gravity. “I suppose he can.” she admitted, once again the graceful loser. Colban was staring at Eve in open mouthed shock; he flushed bright red when she looked at him, “Er, I’m sorry lady, it’s only you looked so…carefree.”
“I’d say” teased Donchad, “that look on your face suggests your vows are in danger”
The youth didn’t take it well, he stiffened in offended anger, “My vows are as they ever were.” he pulled out the simple wooden crucifix he wore on a leather thong about his neck and held it out for Donchad to see, “As they ever were. I can wish joy to others, can I not? Surely a good brother always wishes his family well, and I am brother to all.”
“I meant nothing by that, Colban” apologised Donchad, “I thought you’d see if for the jest it was.”
Colban released his crucifix and brushed his hand through his red hair, and summoned a shaky smile, “I understand, but none will question my commitment - none.”
Eve stepped in to quietly soothe ruffled feathers, “Your very presence here suggests how deep your commitment must run, I doubt one so young as you would have been sent so far from home unless his superiors were certain in him.”
“No.” his denial was half strangled, and he clasped his crucifix for comfort, “No, lady you are wrong.”
“To be sent into the world so young, usually only those far older than you are allowed out of their cloisters, because they are the ones more likely to cleave to their vows. It speaks to me of great confidence in you.”
Far from cheering up at her praise Colban looked even more wretched, “It is not so.” he blundered to his feet, his long, flapping sleeve knocking over a few chess pieces, he swapped from the Scots they had been using until now to Irish, “I came here to improve my Irish, and my skills are honed well enough; I’ll come no more. Thank you.” he stepped back from the table, bumped into his chair, sending both it and himself flying. He landed with a bruising thud, scrambled to his feet, and righted the chair, his elbow knocking the goblet of wine at Eve’s side; the crimson liquid splashed across the chessboard. He began to mop at it with the sleeve of his habit, Eve pulled off her veil and started to help him; Colban looked at the spoiled linen and wailed, “Oh you shouldn’t…I’m sorry…I…” he stepped back and trod on Donchad’s foot. It was too much for him; Colban fled, tears of humiliation stinging his eyes.

That same evening Culad sat brooding in front of the fireplace in his bedchamber, toying with a goblet of mead. The room still seemed empty and austere, stripped of Margaret’s things and anything that reminded him of her; only the great bed, the table by the tall, narrow window, and the fireside chair were left, and Culad was thinking of removing the table. He could still see her sat there, going through the spy reports; a ghost he would give anything to turn to flesh and blood. A lump rose in his throat; he needed the table, but it couldn’t stay as it was, maybe if it were moved it would help. A quiet rapping came form the door, he was tempted to ignore it but he had an idea who it may be. “If you’re who I think you’ll not take no for an answer, so you’d best come in.”
The door opened and Fionnghualla slipped in; dressed in a dress dyed such a deep blue it was nearly black she looked like a head and a pair of hovering hands in the gloom. “I have disposed of your two latest admirers to convents.”
“Good.” Culad’s reply was both an acknowledgement and a dismissal.
“We have also located Niall and Brigida; they have settled in a small farming manor house along the north coast of Tir Connail.”
“Keep watch over them, but do nothing.”
“And lastly, you’ll stop these jaunts of yours.”
Culad flicked the dregs of his drink into the fire; the flames leapt higher, and then settled back down, “No. No I’ll not be doing that, I need to be busy and there’s not so much to do here.”
“Then take people with you.”
“People talk, they pester, they look at me worried; there’s no comfort in people.”
“There’s no comfort in being assassinated either.” snapped Fionnghualla, “If you die Ulster’s a ship without a steersman, remember? We’ve had this talk before.”
“Aye, and look how I heeded it.” an idea hit Culad suddenly, “I’ll take the monk with me, young Colban, what do you think of him?”
“He’s as clumsy as he is foolish, but” Fionnghualla admitted grudgingly, “he’s honest in his way, and he’s quite worshipful of you.” her mind was working rapidly, “If Culad takes the monk that’ll be two to track, not one, and so it’ll be easier to keep watch over him without him knowing.”
“Then I’ll take the monk”



How long can Eve keep it up? Well it's taken just over a month for her to crack a very brief smile. Quiet, sensible, serious, it's her nature.

[scooter_the_shooter]

best in the mead hall as usual froggy http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

[zelda12]

Usually my ego wouldn't permit me to say this but i have to agree with ceaser on this, Frogbeastegg you should be crowned queen of the mead hall.

My stories aren't that bad though.
Sorry ego again.

[frogbeastegg]

August 27 1068
Culad stood in the courtyard, waiting for Colban to arrive; it was early morning, the weather was promising to remain clear and pleasantly warm, and he was anxious to get out into the peace of the countryside. Culad was never one for dressing in the finery that befit his rank, but today he had dressed even more simply than usual; a knee length russet tunic with simple borders about the hem and neck, and green hose. A plain, good quality hunting knife at his belt made for a low-key yet reliable way to defend himself. Colban came into view, running out the main door of the castle, his cassock flapping about his legs as he ran, jumping and dodging puddles and potholes in the courtyard’s uneven surface. “I’m sorry I’m late, my lord duke” he panted, skidding to a mud splattered halt, “I was delayed at breakfast.”
“You’re never going to ride all day in that” Culad gestured at Colban’s long, dress like habit, “Bare legs and a skirt that’ll only get in your way; you’ll end up so saddle sore you won’t be able to walk for a week”
“I must wear the robes of my order, practical or not.” he replied unenthusiastically in his accented Irish.
“You can swap them for some normal clothes, we’ll hide that tonsure of yours with a hood.”
“I can’t.”
Culad could hear a hint of longing in the monk’s voice, and knew it wouldn’t take much to convince him to do what he already wanted to, “Bishop Odo of Normandy goes into battle in armour, I doubt he’s wearing anything other than normal clothes under it and none say he’s not holy, now, do they?”
“Well…”
“He’s one of the highest bishops in Normandy, brother to king William himself; if something’s good enough for him then why not you?”
“That’s true.” admitted Colban, “It would be a grievous fault indeed if I were to place myself higher than him.”
“And I’m knowing other clergy who wear ordinary clothes for travelling, the most highly placed ones too, so they’d know what’s acceptable or not.”
“Alright, I’ll run and ask the steward for some suitable garments.” before Culad could say a word Colban took off, sandaled feet flapping; half way across the courtyard he tripped on the hem of his habit, and went sprawling, much to the amusement of those watching. He regained his feet and hurried away, the laughter of the bystanders ringing in his ears. Culad went to the stables and picked out a pair of palfreys, good quality animals but ones plain enough that they didn’t betray the high status of their owner. He waited as the stable hands saddled them up, and then led them himself out to the courtyard where Colban was waiting. The youth looked completely different out of his monkish attire; he wore a simple green tunic which matched his eyes, with light blue hose and a matching blue hood which he wore pulled down low, hiding much of his flame red hair. When his body was not shrouded by the loose robes it was surprising how painfully thin and gawky he was; he resembled nothing so much as a beanpole, tall and skinny, and the clothes fairly hung off him. The only hint of his true identity was the plain wooden crucifix that still hung about his neck; as if he felt the direction of Culad’s gaze Colban protectively held the cross in his hand, “I’ll keep this, my lord duke.”
“Call me Culad; the idea is a peaceful day unburdened by my title, if you keep calling me lord duke people may suspect I’m more than a simple noble.”
“Thank you…Culad.” mumbled the monk, “You do me a great honour, and I’m indebted to you-”
“Why? Because I tell you to stop using a title I’ve never particularly liked? Being duke Culad has advantages sometimes, but it has more things not to my taste than I’d ever thought possible.” Colban’s moss green eyes blinked in confusion, Culad grinned inwardly, obviously the boy couldn’t think of any drawbacks to being titled, “Never mind that, let’s get going. Choose your horse.” At the mention of horses Colban’s spirits soon picked up; he eagerly made the acquaintance of both animals, before choosing the grey, leaving the brown to Culad. They mounted up and rode out the main gate, off down the road. They kept an easy pace, riding side by side with no real destination in mind. For the sake conversation, and out of real curiosity, Culad asked, “Just how old are you, anyway?”
“I’m not certain, my lo…Culad. I’ve seen fifteen summers, sixteen now, maybe as it’s late August. I don’t remember them all, but my mother told me I’d seen eight of them shortly afore she died. I’m not sure of when exactly I was born; if she ever did say or I ever asked I don’t recall the answer…sometime in late summer, anyhow.”
“We’ll call you sixteen then, for the sake of rounding it up.” Culad gave the monk a friendly smile, and after a slight hesitation the young man matched it. “So, how’s a young Scottish monk learn some Irish, and end up as translator for a wedding party?”
“My father was Irish” said Colban carefully, as if working around a painful subject, “and my mother was Scottish. He was trader running goods from Scotland to Ireland and back again; she a merchant’s daughter. I learned both their tongues, but my father was often away, and so I learned a little less Irish. He also spoke Scottish, it was part of his trading skill, I guess.”
“And how’s this budding businessman end up in a monastery?” asked Culad, genuinely interested in the monk’s tale.
“My mother died of a fever while my father was absent; there was no one to take me in, so our neighbours sold off my mother’s goods and home to provide enough money to place me in the nearby monastery. It was kind of them…I suppose.”
“Why not care for you until your father returned?”
“He was…” Colban hung his head, “He would not have wanted me; I had nothing to offer him.”
“You’re his son and could carry on his trade, his heir maybe, unless you’ve a brother?”
“I was not to go into his trade.” replied the youth tightly, “I was not his heir and I had nothing to offer; he cared for me in his way, but he…would say I was better in the monastery.”
Culad saw it was a sensitive subject and backed off, “And so how’d you get from novice a few years away from your final vows to translator?”
“A few months back, shortly after you send your proposal, a noble claimed shelter in our walls overnight. He talked freely of his business, saying he was travelling from the count’s court back to his manor, that there was a great wedding in the offing; the count’s daughter was going off to Ireland to wed some duke or other - his words, not mine – without even a translator, as none spoke Irish in our court. He thought it hilarious, he kept saying he wished he could see the look on the groom’s face when he found his bride couldn’t even say hello; he was…rather coarse.” the monk blushed, “Very coarse in some of his remarks. Well, Father Abbot heard and he saw opportunity for my skills to be better used, and so off he sent me to the count to volunteer my services.”
“Just like that? I’d have thought them reluctant to part with a brother of their house.”
“Not this brother.” Colban pressed his lips together so tightly they went white, “Not this brother.”
“Why ever do you say that?” asked Culad, more than a bit surprised that anyone would be glad to be rid of this eager, likeable young man. Colban’s posture stiffened, he went very defensive, then he forced himself to relax and mustered a jolly smile, “My clumsiness, they liked my skill with the horses but I cost them a fortune in broken pottery” he laughed at his own joke; stilted, unhappy laughter masquerading as something better.
Culad shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, wishing he’d never asked. He changed the subject to one close enough to the original topic that it didn’t look as though he was ignoring the monk’s efforts at humour, but far enough away from whatever was so troubling about his past, “Your Irish is greatly improved, why I’d even swear you’re a native now, aside from that accent.”
“Yes, I have learned quickly; it is as though all my half memories of the language are coming back.” Colban’s mood didn’t match his words; though he sounded cheerful enough he looked like he was about to drown, in what Culad couldn’t decide. “Time for more drastic measures” thought Culad, “There’s a village about a mile down the road; race you?”
The monk’s answer was obvious; he encouraged his horse into a gallop, leaving Culad behind, but not for long as the duke was soon chasing off after him.



Thanks caesar, zelda http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/ht_bow.gif

Small part, less than half of what I had planned. I've just made the nasty discovery that I don't own my story any more - Paradox do. By posting on their forums I gave them the copyright, so I can't get this published without potential problems unless I get their express permission. Seems stupid to me, why they need to claim ownership of all stories on their forums is a mystery, but there you go; I don't own my own work. Guess who is now investigating some way to get ownership back, via the 'express permission' clause?

I think I should be able to get things sorted, and even so...how would a games company in Sweden find out if I published Red Hand as something far better and more expansive that this? I'd just prefer not to have the looming potential for disaster. Anywho that really stomps all over my motivation in giant boots, slowing down my writing and occupying part of my time. I’m only posting here until this is resolved, pity the poor fans on the other forum.

[frogbeastegg]

Copyright issue is cleared up, I can do what I want with this story. So, back to business as usual, starting tomorrow.

[scooter_the_shooter]

i have heard you mention paradox what is it a story website http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-inquisitive.gif

[zelda12]

It's a games company they made Europa and the game that this story is based on. What frogs talking about is the companies website forum. I think?

[frogbeastegg]

Paradox Entertainment made the game on which this is very loosely based, Crusader Kings. They are arranged similarly to the org in that they have a group of non-game forums, including the AAR forum (After Action Report) which is intended for stories and the discussion of writing; this forum was one of the inspirations behind the creation of the Mead Hall. On those forums I have quite a large, addicted readership now.

Red Hand paradox style (http://www.europa-universalis.com/forum/showthread.php?t=141285&page=1&pp=25)

[scooter_the_shooter]

thanks now i get it http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/medievalcheers.gif

[frogbeastegg]

News that could be either bad or good news depending on how you look at it: I have now begun to turn this into a book; I will do this even if it takes a million years. However this book is incredibly different to this AAR, so different that in a way I will be sort of wasting my time continuing this AAR; major events and characters are mostly the same but…well for a start my book will be set in a medieval inspired world I created from scratch to get around the accuracy/place name issues, fantasy but without any of the magic and other junk; that is just the *start of the changes. What I have now is enough for book 1 of a small series. 101 pages until the place where I can end things decently after Margaret’s death, 101 pages of critical scenes in skeletal, rough form; it could expand to 400 or more, probably more.

So I can start the transformation, shifting to my better writing style and packing in everything that is missing from this skeletal (in every possible way) version, honing my skills and doing my very best to get something that people will look at and consider, rather than throwing in the bin. Or I can continue writing this as it is, then go back when I have finished the whole thing (that’s 2-3 books worth), or I can try to do both at once.

I get some very slight practise writing this, but I must admit I am coasting now; the only real improvement I am learning is an increase in descriptive material, which I would be adding in larger quantities if I spent more time on each part anyway. I do benefit from the proofreading someone does for me; I really like getting comments and feedback, seeing how people react to my plots and characters, but somehow… maybe my efforts are best directed elsewhere now. I need to drastically improve the quality of my writing for a start, and only a tiny part of that improvement will come from taking my time and not using my ‘rough draft’ English.

Posting my story on the net does open the door to the possibility of someone stealing my ideas, it’s unlikely but it can and does happen. It also takes time, and perhaps it is not worthwhile to spend my time on this version instead of my book. I need all the help I can get polishing up my standards to publishing quality, and while it is nice to find people like this character or hate that one, I really need those comments a trained editor can provide; heh, no idea where I’ll find an editor without finding an interested publisher

I don’t know what I am going to do, or how long it will take to decide; until I do decide there will obviously be no more updates. To be honest, so I don’t raise hopes unduly, I suspect deep in my heart I am leaning towards finishing this now and focusing on my book. It’s the only way to move forwards and improve my skill, even if I will miss logging into two forums and my email to find comments first thing every morning.

:returns to scribbling down family trees going back generations from Culad and co, drawing maps of this new world, and filling notebooks with all the ideas that are hanging around loose; changing everything from AAR to true story:

[scooter_the_shooter]

if you want to end this and do your real just wrilte a sentence that says and all the people died the end lol

[Axeknight]

Well, I guess this had to happen sometime. Froggy's too good for us now http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

Although I'll miss reading this story, there is no way you could focus on writing the full version, and still post this here. Never mind. Naturally, nobody's going to say you shouldn't try to get this published. I sincerely hope that the nice people at HarperCollins or wherever see the light.

BTW, with around fifty posts on this thread, I'm expecting an acknowledgment in the back of the book... You were going to acknowledge me anyway, right? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

[scooter_the_shooter]

we can just by your book when it come out froggy http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/tongue.gif make sure you get some copies to america http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif

[zelda12]

Please don't forget us noobs of the mead hall such a me and ceaser who rely on your advice and patience in reading most of our posts and commenting although I doubt that I'll ever reach your standards.
Good luck with the book if it's any where near as good as this I confidantly expect it to reach the top 10 betsellers.

[Monk]

Froggy has (as i post this) 98 posts in this one thread alone, making this the longest story in the Mead Hall, wqhich breaks my personal record of 30 with ease.

Lady frog, IMO you are the greatest writer that frequents the Mead Hall, you have proven time and again how much skill you have in each post you write. I myself can only bow to you and thank you for the great stories you have given us, stories that linger in our thoughts far after we have read them, wandering of what could happen next.

I'm not good at this but i'm doing my best. froggy the Mead Hall will always be open to you, the doors always open (the hinges broke but i'm working on that http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif ).

Cheers to you lady frogbeastegg and cheers to your ability. I wish you luck and fortune in whatever you do. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/medievalcheers.gif

[The Wizard]

I can only hope I can match your almost zealous dedication to this story.

Best luck to your book

How is this new world going to look ...?



~Wiz

[frogbeastegg]

Yes, well I guess Red Hand is dead, dead and risen again as book one of a potential series I am considering naming something like 'King of the Isles' but with less of the cliché.

If I make it to print I'll need one of those dedication/back-patting blurbs that goes at the front of the book, I thought something like:
To all those who encouraged me along the way.

frogbeastegg writes.

I may post an excerpt or two from time to time, taken from my more polished than this but not yet been ripped up by an editor manuscript.



caesar, I think as an ending to this rough version here...I think the words The Beginning are most appropriate. This covers 2 years out of the 25+ I had planned, and truly it is just the beginning; I have set up so many things here, so many things it pains me not to see the reaction when I reveal how such insignificant things become hugely important.

Axeknight, I hope they see the light too. I can summon a tiny measure of unfroglike ego and say that if they can publish some of the crap I have read and not mine, well someone has no taste.

zelda, I will keep reading, and I will keep posting my not very good comments as I can think of them.

Monk, well what can I say? I think...this time I feel I can honestly say, if you think this is good then you have seen nothing yet. I'll keep my corner table here, I had that set up shortly after I got the AM position here; I have got used to sitting there, writing away.

The Wizard, my new world will still be medieval, a culture that is mostly Norman English. I can't say too much because I am still deciding on details, and it would take several pages and maps to show it off decently; think medieval England but with a few changes and all new landscapes/place names. No magic or Gods etc. As you may guess from King of the Isles it is set ona bunch of islands, I am going with large islands like those that make up the UK; some under one ruler, others fragmented under several.

Thank you all http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/ht_bow.gif

[scooter_the_shooter]

i will miss this story but i now i have my new crap story to worry about i screwed up bigtime on the title i should have named it somthing different.

[The Wizard]

We all had to begin somewhere... you'll be frightened at my first story as well.

's All good http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/cheers.gif

Don't worry, be happy



~Wiz http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wave.gif

[frogbeastegg]

Caesar, take a look at the stories in here (http://www.totalwar.org/cgi-bin/forum/ikonboard.cgi?act=ST;f=24;t=9496) and tell me how good they are, especially compared to Red Hand. I wrote loads of crap stories, then one series that wasn't too bad, before finding my stride with this, and Red Hand still has a long way to go.

My point is that we all start out badly, but we don't have to stay bad, not if we learn as we go.

[ah_dut]

oh well froggy, tell us if you get it published so we can all go out and buy it. Then email us ur adress so we can get our copies signed http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/rolleyes.gif