As I present this, the first part of my new project, to the alter. I would like to say, as Frogbeastegg has done, the period in which I, and most of my contemporaries, write about in the mead hall is not what we would call a civilised or nice age. For all the Victorian interpretations of honour and chivalry the age in which these people lived was not nice and not chivalrous. It was an age of unending darkness and death. So when reading this try not to condemn me if what I write seems a little dark and gritty.
Prologue
The old man sits down on a rock his broad and weathered face never changing. As you approach him he looks up and in his eyes you see a life of pain and sorrow but deep in the eyes there is a glint of long lost happiness. When you reach him he begins to speak. Would you spare some food and water for an old man?
Of course. you reply as you reach into your pack and hand him a piece of bread and you water flask. After several gulps of water and a bite from the bread he looks up at you. Thank you young man, in return for your kindness I shall impart a story to you and hopefully some of my knowledge.
Chapter One
The party of horsemen walked their horses, exhausted from the long and tiring ride from London to Arundel castle, through the town's narrow streets. The rain pored down, making the world seem dark and wreathed in water, soaking into the five or so men's cloths. The men themselves all looked hard bitten weathered and above all else, dangerous. Their faces were masses of scars and tanned and evil, their eyes glowered taking in all around them. They wore chainmail and their swords could be seen under their cloaks as they rode.
Through the gloom of a rainy twilight they saw the inn and made for it. Reining up, in the stable block next to the inn, they dismounted. Running over the young stable boy grabbed the horse's reins. Smiling at him the lead rider patted his horse's neck and said. Be sure to give them some grain, they deserve it. As he spoke he reached into his purse and drew out a penny and placing it into the stable boy's hands. Grinning the stable boy replied. I'll be sure to do that for yee maister. Smiling the lead rider ruffled the boy's hair as he walked through the side door into the inn.
The room into which they entered was smoky and dark. The smell of bad ale and even worse food filled the room. This mixed with the smell of the result of this bad food and the smoke emanating from the roaring and the blazing torches on the walls, which cast their flickering light to the smoky room. Through this mix the five men walked towards one of the unoccupied tables. Sitting down one of their number beckoned to one of the serving wenches. Noticing them one of the servers swayed over to them.
When she neared them she asked them the question. Wat ya want?
Leering at her one of the five answered Apart from your own sweet self. Grinning she answered Well that will cost you an extra six pence.
For you I'd pay a shilling. Was the man's answer.
Interrupting one of the other men spoke up. Christ on his bleeding cross, Michael can you please stop trying to get yourself laid, Then to the wench We'll have five ales and whatever you've got to eat.
Glaring at him the wench replied, All we got is pottage.
The men nodded and the wench walked of her hips swinging, as she reached the bar she turned round and winked at Michael. Winking back Michael got a quick jab in the ribs from one of his compatriots. Michael for once in your god forsaken shitty life can you please take your mind of your dick, and onto the job at hand.
Chapter Two
Marie walked through the woods near her father's manor house. Marie, fifteen year old daughter of the Norman knight Sir Troncenby. She enjoyed sneaking out of the manor so she could walk through the woods on her own without the encumbrances of her overprotective father. So it was that on this bright sunny morning, Marie, was walking through the woodland. As she walked through woodland illuminated in bright morning sunshine, it seemed to come alive as the flowers opened up to the morning sunshine leaves shining brightly as the sunshine hit the dew. The bees and insects began to buzz around the wood. So taken in by this beauty was she that she did not even hear as the five men crept up behind her. When she did notice it was too late, as she whirled round she was confronted with five hooded faces. She looked around wildly, like a frightened rabbit that has just been caught by a dog, desperately looking for an escape. She saw none.
When she awoke she could barely remember what had happened she just lay there, on her side with her clothes lying about her. Puzzled she what had convinced her to take her own clothes off. Then the memory of what had happened came back and with it the pain, pain in places she had never felt pain she hurt all over: head, arms, chest, legs, groin and back. With all this she slowly began to cry slowly. Her small body curled up into a ball, was racked by the sobs that shook her entire body. As she lay there naked on the forest floor.
Chapter Three
A forced union, an evil deed if ever I saw one and I have seen many, in many lands and at many times of my long life. I wish I could say that it all turned out well, alas I can not much as I it pains me to say it. Marie died in child birth, the child was born early, yet strong and big. However the child did not die as the priests, and as far as Sir Troncenby was concerned, more importantly the midwives had predicted.
Sir Troncenby never had any sons and his only daughter Marie was now dead. So although society frowned upon it he took in the child, his grandson, Alexander. So it came to be that Sir Troncenby raised Alex as his own and taught him to be a knight to serve his king and his god. And most importantly of all that though an evil deed may shatter a beautiful thing and bring much sorrow. The product of this evil deed never need feel ashamed nor feel that though evil made as evil to become.
So it came about that on Alex's eighteenth birthday grandson of a knight and skilled in the arts of war and diplomacy was summoned to Westminster to swear allegiance to the king.
Chapter Four
Alex rode down the road, twenty miles to the south-west of London, his brand new plate mail armour, a gift from his grandsire, clanking onto the his destrier's flank. As he rode down the road humming a song he'd heard a minstrel played at a feast last winter. The tune had thoroughly annoyed him then and did so even more now. But it was the kind of tune that would always stick in the back of your mind and continuously make itself known to you at moments in time when you couldn't help but hum or whistle the tune. Thus deepening the burning hatred for the tune even further. After only half an hour the tune had got so annoying that Alex had no choice but to find some way to keep his mind of it.
This distraction came in the form a group of men that jumped him as he rode by. The four of them each had an assortment of weapons and an evil glint in his eye. As he pulled at his horses reins Alexander took in the group that confronted him. All four of them wore leather armour with iron studs. They carried short swords and had an assortment of daggers and knives. Their faces were all scared and tanned with rugged hard-bitten expressions. As well as this they all had evil grins on their faces.
Unfazed by this Alexander looked at who he assumed was the leader and spoke. Before you kill me will you at least let me get of my horse, I wouldn't want her to get hurt, she cost a hell of a lot of money.
Sure why not, after all if she got hurt we wouldn't get enough as much when we sell her.
Jumping of his horse Alexander drew his long sword.
Oh so the boy thinks he fight then boys? He was answered with chuckles from his cronies.
I've had some instruction on the matter, yes.
With that he crouched down sword outstretched in the guard, just as his Grandsire had taught him. Laughing the first of the erstwhile bandits charged forward. The bandit brought his sword down in an over arm arc that was aimed to cleave Alexander's skull in two. Reacting almost by instinct Alexander parried the blow spinning round and plunging his sword into the bandits exposed back. As the man slowly collapsed to the floor, Alexander turned around to be confronted by two more men their sword arms outstretched. Alexander lunged forward at the first bandit. At the last moment he pulled his sword away, catching the bandit's sword and spinning it around the bandits head. Stepping in Alexander brought his pommel up into the bandit's face. The bandit staggered back blood streaming from his nose and mouth. Disregarding the bandit now clutching his face in the dirt. Alex spun round just in time to see the second bandit's sword speeding towards his neck, with lightning fast reflexes, born from instinct, Alexander ducked down and plunged his sword into the mans stomach.
Straightening up Alexander turned to see the fourth and final bandit's back, rapidly receding into the distance. Shaking his head Alexander walked over to his horse and took out his hunting bow and the string. Stringing the bow he reached into his saddlebag and drew out his bundle of arrows. Drawing the bow Alexander sighted along the arrow, lining it up on the back of the bandit's neck, and let fly. As he watched he saw the arrow fly straight and true to smash into the bandit's neck. With the bandit on the floor Alexander walked over to the bandit, who was still clutching to his bloodied face, knife in hand. When he reached him he bent down and slit his throat letting his blood mingle with the dust on the floor. Alexander then searched through his pockets to find his coins, after repeating this with the other three Alexander Mounted up and began riding again as if nothing had even happened. At least I've got that God awful tune out of my head. Thought Alexander, and as if in answer he began humming it again. Cursing he continued his ride.
