lonewolf371
07-21-2004, 07:28
This is my feeble attempt to write some story or rather. I've been thinking about it for awhile, but I'm by nature very lazy and will probably not finish it.
Also note: major names (Henry III, Simon de Montfort, Edward I) are historical, minor names (baron Jeanne d'Erstan, Gayle of Bordeaux, George) are fictional, any relevance to real people is purely coincidental.
Zethnaeron
A Medieval Tale
Prologue
Freedom, rights of the many, wise rulers, these things are or were once held by every great nation of the present and past. As rulers struggled to find the best way to preserve these aspects, eventually it has been found today that government by the people is often believed to be the best way to rule.
But it was not always so.
746 years ago, His Majesty King Henry III of the Plantagenet Royal Family, King of England, signed the Provisions of Oxford. These were designed by the barons and nobles of England in opposition to many of Henry’s failed policies. The leader of the nobles was Simon de Montfort II, the 6th Earl of Leicaster. The nobles once again tried to control Henry with the Provisions of Westminster, yet in the end they were rejected based on Henry’s claim to divine right from God and support from the Pope.
At last, war was imminent. Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicaster assembled his forces and those of his ally barons and met Henry III at the town of Lewes, ready to fight for the freedoms and powers of those who were not king.
The king had on his side more heavy cavalry and the very effective but inexperienced Prince, the future king Edward I.
Chapter 1, the March
Rain. Rain was annoying, and wet. If you are ever doing hard work, most times you’d rather be sweating all over than have to put up with rain. Rain got down to your skin, giving you that nasty wet feeling. When it finally stops, you feel the cold of the water climbing up your back, giving you chills until you finally take your wet clothing off.
Within this miserable scene was sir Gayle of Bordeaux, knight to the baron Jeanne d’Erstan of Nomandie, slogging through the wed mud, urging his horse on, wondering why in the world did he have to get dragged all the way out here.
Sir Gayle, while he had an English name, was predominately French (or more accurately, Norman) as was his baron. Simply the act of being French or living in France put you in the admiration of many other men of war. France was a battleground in its purest form, wars between English (or rather, French nobles loyal to the English crown) nobles and French nobles, English and English nobles, French and French nobles, were possibly some of the most common in the world. If you lived more than a few years, you were ranked a veteran along side many of the best soldiers who lived in England itself.
Such was the amount of awe Gayle and his friends received from the other knights assembled by the English barons of the island.
In many of their opinions, the knights under Jeanne d’Erstan shouldn’t even be here. Their baron had only come to return an old favor by an old friend. A big favor, apparently. The knights had seen the way the islanders acted, often loosely or disorganized. Compared to them, Gayle and his friends were a marvel of professional soldiers.
Gayle himself, compared to the other French knights, wasn’t a bad soldier. But he wasn’t particularly superior either. He could use a sword, mace, and flail as well as many of the others, but the area of his combat skill that he truly prided himself in was with his lance. Gayle was one of the most renown jousters of Normandie, and was well regarded because of it.
Gayle watched as one of the English knights, George, began to approach him. The French knights tolerated him, although just barely. They had a fairly haughty view of themselves, an aspect of theirs that Gayle did not have. George had been a friend that Gayle had made on the first day that they had joined up with the island barons and from him had learned much of the English countryside around them. George pulled his horse up next to Gayle. Gayle turned to George and said, “How far to Lewes?”
George turned to his friend and smiled, “Not to worry It’s not much farther, about half a day’s march after we camp tonight. I hope we find a place to camp soon, this rain is driving me insane.”
Gayle nodded in consent. This would be one part of England that he would be content to leave behind when he traveled back to Normandie. All around, the soldiers gradually continued their march, dredging through the mud, bending over in fatigue, praying to God to stop the rain sometime soon. Almost abruptly, the column stopped. Gayle looked around at the woods on either side of the road. This would be one part of England that he would miss. He liked the trees, there were more here than in Normandie. They also looked nicer when the sun rose above the wet ground. He smiled at the thought. Looking out over the side of the column, he noticed some of the barons slowly making their way back.
Jeanne d’Erstan went before his knights. He noted George with no small amount of displeasure. He turned to his own knights, “We are to camp several hundred yards further down the road, there is a large clearing there. Montfort has seen to it that you are to camp with the English (he almost spat as he said English) knights. The nobility will be camping off in the woods, near a water supply.”
The knights hardly said anything in return and filed out alongside the rapidly scattering column, heading for their camp. George said, “I don’t think your friends like me very much…”
“None sense, you shall set your tent up next to mine You shall tell me more of the English countryside so I have some idea of where we are”
George brightened up at that thought and followed Gayle. He still drooped his soldiers a little bit, but Gayle had noticed that that was probably a habit of his, he did it often, even when not around the French knights.
“I shall have to show you something, it’s not far from here.”
“Very well, what is it?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
Gayle almost snapped back, but he held his temper in check. Despite his friendly attitude towards George, he still had some of the haughtiness of the other French knights. Once arriving at the clearing, they dismounted. They took off the heavier parts of their armor, gave instructions to their squires, and then headed off into the woods.
“It’s a little bit off this way, you’ll like it, one of England’s more secret spots if you know what I mean.”
Gayle smiled. They trekked through the woods, the downpour of rain slackened by the leaves. This went on for sometime, about 20 minutes. Gayle hardly noticed it while admiring the scenery. He had a special place in his heart for forests and was always pleased at the sight of them.
“It’s just up here.”
Gayle noticed a change in the sounds of the surrounding forest. He thought he heard running water. At last they came to it, a running stream. The stream wound up a small incline, at last ending in a small pool over which was a water fall. The trees stopped a short distance from the pool of water, almost seemingly in a perfect circle around it. Off to the side was a cave. Gayle took pleasure in the sights and sounds from the place, smiling at its pleasant nature. George turned back, noticing that Gayle had stopped:
“Come on, the thing I wanted to show you was inside the cave.”
Gayle shook himself out of his daydream and followed George up to the cave itself. Inside it seemed dark, yet there was still enough light to see the insides. It was warm inside and felt wonderful. What really amazed Gayle though was the sheer mass of the size as the mouth opened up into the first chamber. Gayle immediately lost sight of the ceiling. He stared up at where it had been for several minutes, before at last saying, “What is this place?”
The loudness and the amount of echoes from that simple question made Gayle jump. It scared him to the point of reaching to his sword to draw it in surprise, but he quickly checked himself.
“This place is my favorite spot in England.”
George’s voice almost became completely in-decipherable after the word is, Gayle was surprised at the fact that he could tell anything about what George was saying.
“It’s nice.”
Also note: major names (Henry III, Simon de Montfort, Edward I) are historical, minor names (baron Jeanne d'Erstan, Gayle of Bordeaux, George) are fictional, any relevance to real people is purely coincidental.
Zethnaeron
A Medieval Tale
Prologue
Freedom, rights of the many, wise rulers, these things are or were once held by every great nation of the present and past. As rulers struggled to find the best way to preserve these aspects, eventually it has been found today that government by the people is often believed to be the best way to rule.
But it was not always so.
746 years ago, His Majesty King Henry III of the Plantagenet Royal Family, King of England, signed the Provisions of Oxford. These were designed by the barons and nobles of England in opposition to many of Henry’s failed policies. The leader of the nobles was Simon de Montfort II, the 6th Earl of Leicaster. The nobles once again tried to control Henry with the Provisions of Westminster, yet in the end they were rejected based on Henry’s claim to divine right from God and support from the Pope.
At last, war was imminent. Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicaster assembled his forces and those of his ally barons and met Henry III at the town of Lewes, ready to fight for the freedoms and powers of those who were not king.
The king had on his side more heavy cavalry and the very effective but inexperienced Prince, the future king Edward I.
Chapter 1, the March
Rain. Rain was annoying, and wet. If you are ever doing hard work, most times you’d rather be sweating all over than have to put up with rain. Rain got down to your skin, giving you that nasty wet feeling. When it finally stops, you feel the cold of the water climbing up your back, giving you chills until you finally take your wet clothing off.
Within this miserable scene was sir Gayle of Bordeaux, knight to the baron Jeanne d’Erstan of Nomandie, slogging through the wed mud, urging his horse on, wondering why in the world did he have to get dragged all the way out here.
Sir Gayle, while he had an English name, was predominately French (or more accurately, Norman) as was his baron. Simply the act of being French or living in France put you in the admiration of many other men of war. France was a battleground in its purest form, wars between English (or rather, French nobles loyal to the English crown) nobles and French nobles, English and English nobles, French and French nobles, were possibly some of the most common in the world. If you lived more than a few years, you were ranked a veteran along side many of the best soldiers who lived in England itself.
Such was the amount of awe Gayle and his friends received from the other knights assembled by the English barons of the island.
In many of their opinions, the knights under Jeanne d’Erstan shouldn’t even be here. Their baron had only come to return an old favor by an old friend. A big favor, apparently. The knights had seen the way the islanders acted, often loosely or disorganized. Compared to them, Gayle and his friends were a marvel of professional soldiers.
Gayle himself, compared to the other French knights, wasn’t a bad soldier. But he wasn’t particularly superior either. He could use a sword, mace, and flail as well as many of the others, but the area of his combat skill that he truly prided himself in was with his lance. Gayle was one of the most renown jousters of Normandie, and was well regarded because of it.
Gayle watched as one of the English knights, George, began to approach him. The French knights tolerated him, although just barely. They had a fairly haughty view of themselves, an aspect of theirs that Gayle did not have. George had been a friend that Gayle had made on the first day that they had joined up with the island barons and from him had learned much of the English countryside around them. George pulled his horse up next to Gayle. Gayle turned to George and said, “How far to Lewes?”
George turned to his friend and smiled, “Not to worry It’s not much farther, about half a day’s march after we camp tonight. I hope we find a place to camp soon, this rain is driving me insane.”
Gayle nodded in consent. This would be one part of England that he would be content to leave behind when he traveled back to Normandie. All around, the soldiers gradually continued their march, dredging through the mud, bending over in fatigue, praying to God to stop the rain sometime soon. Almost abruptly, the column stopped. Gayle looked around at the woods on either side of the road. This would be one part of England that he would miss. He liked the trees, there were more here than in Normandie. They also looked nicer when the sun rose above the wet ground. He smiled at the thought. Looking out over the side of the column, he noticed some of the barons slowly making their way back.
Jeanne d’Erstan went before his knights. He noted George with no small amount of displeasure. He turned to his own knights, “We are to camp several hundred yards further down the road, there is a large clearing there. Montfort has seen to it that you are to camp with the English (he almost spat as he said English) knights. The nobility will be camping off in the woods, near a water supply.”
The knights hardly said anything in return and filed out alongside the rapidly scattering column, heading for their camp. George said, “I don’t think your friends like me very much…”
“None sense, you shall set your tent up next to mine You shall tell me more of the English countryside so I have some idea of where we are”
George brightened up at that thought and followed Gayle. He still drooped his soldiers a little bit, but Gayle had noticed that that was probably a habit of his, he did it often, even when not around the French knights.
“I shall have to show you something, it’s not far from here.”
“Very well, what is it?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
Gayle almost snapped back, but he held his temper in check. Despite his friendly attitude towards George, he still had some of the haughtiness of the other French knights. Once arriving at the clearing, they dismounted. They took off the heavier parts of their armor, gave instructions to their squires, and then headed off into the woods.
“It’s a little bit off this way, you’ll like it, one of England’s more secret spots if you know what I mean.”
Gayle smiled. They trekked through the woods, the downpour of rain slackened by the leaves. This went on for sometime, about 20 minutes. Gayle hardly noticed it while admiring the scenery. He had a special place in his heart for forests and was always pleased at the sight of them.
“It’s just up here.”
Gayle noticed a change in the sounds of the surrounding forest. He thought he heard running water. At last they came to it, a running stream. The stream wound up a small incline, at last ending in a small pool over which was a water fall. The trees stopped a short distance from the pool of water, almost seemingly in a perfect circle around it. Off to the side was a cave. Gayle took pleasure in the sights and sounds from the place, smiling at its pleasant nature. George turned back, noticing that Gayle had stopped:
“Come on, the thing I wanted to show you was inside the cave.”
Gayle shook himself out of his daydream and followed George up to the cave itself. Inside it seemed dark, yet there was still enough light to see the insides. It was warm inside and felt wonderful. What really amazed Gayle though was the sheer mass of the size as the mouth opened up into the first chamber. Gayle immediately lost sight of the ceiling. He stared up at where it had been for several minutes, before at last saying, “What is this place?”
The loudness and the amount of echoes from that simple question made Gayle jump. It scared him to the point of reaching to his sword to draw it in surprise, but he quickly checked himself.
“This place is my favorite spot in England.”
George’s voice almost became completely in-decipherable after the word is, Gayle was surprised at the fact that he could tell anything about what George was saying.
“It’s nice.”