the frog empire will come http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...s/bigthumb.gif
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the frog empire will come http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...s/bigthumb.gif
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-cg...isha_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.
http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...nquisitive.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...nquisitive.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...nquisitive.gifQuote:
Originally Posted by [b
The baby was believeable enough.
And I assume the new geisha smilies are your doing, Froggy?
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:
Originally Posted by [b
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-cg...geishagrin.gifQuote:
Originally Posted by [b
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-cg...isha_happy.gifQuote:
Originally Posted by [b
yeah the baby was beliveable i am just suprised culad hasnt died of old age how old is he
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-cg...ns/gc-wall.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...ns/gc-wall.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...ns/gc-wall.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...ns/gc-wall.gif http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...ns/gc-wall.gif
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.
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-cg...c-thumbsup.gif
Congrats to you all
And now back to the Fitzjohn story http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...s/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-cg.../gc-smiley.gif
Firstly, thank you, Tricky. I am truly honoured http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...ons/ht_bow.gifQuote:
Originally Posted by [b
Interesting, Froggy. I await the next part, and the explainations, eagerly. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...s/bigthumb.gif
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-cg...isha_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...
wow your a good writer you should get one of your stories published some time http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...ns/biggrin.gif
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...
“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?
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.
Hmm hmm, working on that third chapter... been real busy the last few days http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...ns/gc-wall.gifQuote:
Originally Posted by [b
~Wiz http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...ons/barrel.gif
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-cg...cons/angry.gif
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 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.
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-cg...isha_angry.gif
I was about to say something, but you fixed itQuote:
Originally Posted by [b
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-cg...s/bigthumb.gif
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-cg...eishablank.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.
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.
keep up the good work http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...s/bigthumb.gif
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-cg...icons/wave.gif
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
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-cg...cons/gc-no.gifQuote:
Originally Posted by [b
Nice part
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-cg...ns/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?
good fight scene http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...evalcheers.gif
http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...cons/joker.gif Favourite line so farQuote:
Originally Posted by [b
Wouldn't anyone be a little 'sensitive'? http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...ns/biggrin.gifQuote:
Originally Posted by [b
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.Quote:
Originally Posted by [b
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-cg...evalcheers.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.
That's a classic http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cg...cons/joker.gifQuote:
Originally Posted by [b
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