Scarburg Meadhall

[Groin Redbeard]

It was plain that Hildernic was thinking hard when Erbrand was speaking, now Erbrand knew why. Hildernic was speaking of brawling as if it was an occupation or a past time. Of course there are better ways to spend one's time, I am not challenging you to fight. All the while that Hildernic was speaking Erbrand began to feel less inclined to tell the man about his adventure with Oeric. Hildernic's last words confirmed Erbrand's suspicions: he was an idealist and had almost no sense of humor.

A reply was in place, but before Hildernic finished Erbrand was distracted by somebody coming, or falling, down the Scar. What a sight, Erbrand almost laughed!

"Good day." He greeted the men. "The day of reckoning, yes?"

"Someone seems to be happy about it. You should not be after siding with Lithor last night. Ah! but I do not want to talk about that. I think I should be getting back to my work." Erbrand eyed Hildernic curiously.

"You seem like a good fellow." He eyed Crabannan. There was a sudden impulse to let go of his secret. Erbrand was going to tell Crabannan anyway and Hildernic seemed like a sensible person. However, in the end he decided against it.

"Good day to you sirs."


Lithor

“I will not pretend, even with you…”

Lithor was hurt by these words. He might be full of mirth more than somberness, but he was not a simpleton or a toy that people could play with. Why should Thornden pretend with him? Lithor certainly never pretended with Thornden.

“Well it is simple.” Lithor replied dryly, some of his enthusiasm dampened. “Punish Javan first. I did not say that he should be spared from punishment, only from Athanar’s punishment. Do you really think that Javan’s crime is worthy to be held in the same instance of a military trial? The law of blood allows and the law of society demands that you, as Javan’s brother, correct him, not Athanar.”

Lithor was puzzled by the whole deal. Thornden talking in Javan's defense? What, is it going to be a trial for Javan as well? The consequences of a boy striking the girl will be the same whether it was a lord's daughter or a peasant girl. Lithor dared not say it, for he knew that younger people take things the wrong way, but he thought Thornden was being a little cowardly in the whole deal.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

When Hilderinc saw Crabannan approaching in a rather rushed way, his initial thought was that he indeed had been cornered by two members of a gang who have been following him on his morning walk. But soon the thought was dismissed and proven foolish. Obviously, he thought, that would be a very unlikely thing to happen anyway.

Erbrand seemed to have decided to go about his business. Hilderinc reminded himself that he should probably get back by the time all other people are awake - also in order to get something to eat for himself. He looked at Crabannan. The newly come man's face was unreadable. A mysterious man, Hilderinc thought. What does such a person do here in the first place? He remembered his yesterday's encounter with Crabannan and the interrupted question when he asked him whether he was a Woodman. Something about the man was slightly unsettling.

"We seem to meet each other quite too often," Hilderinc said after a while. "I assume you were taking a morning walk, or are all the musicians in this Hall going to the local marshlands for animal skins?" He left but a short pause, not expecting an answer, as it was not a real question.

"I was just thanking master Erbrand for the nice performance yesterday, and I might say here that I liked your music too," Hilderinc continued. "You seem to know the instrument really well, I assume you have been playing it for a long time to obtain such skill. Have you been invited here as a bard by lord Eodwine?" Hilderinc has been wondering about it, as that would at least explain the presence of the stranger here in the first place.

[Folwren]

He had said something wrong. Thornden was almost instantly aware of it. Lithor’s manner became stiff and withdrawn. Thornden became more wary, but he still stuck to his previous position.

“His will not be a military trial, of course,” Thornden said. “I do not even know if Athanar will treat it as though it were a court at all. All he said last night is that he wanted him to come before him around the same time that you did, but I think that it was more of a matter of convenience then it was a matter of that particular time being his time of court. But if it is, I will not be surprised.

“I have an idea that I will be the one who punishes him, but not before Athanar has seen him and decided what is to be done. It’s not quite so simple as you think. It’s not as if Javan had merely hit a peasant girl. Understand if he had, I would have spoken to the girls father even in that instance before deciding on any punishment, and heard what he thought. But the fact that Ædre is an eorl’s daughter makes the crime greater.”

--

Saeryn

She would not have wakened for a while had a knock at the door not roused her. Saeryn turned onto her back and raised her head. “What is it?” she asked. Modtryth put her head in the door.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but you said not to let you sleep in this morning.”

“Of course,” she mumbled to herself, remembering saying so the previous evening before going to bed. “Thank you,” she said, to Modtryth. Modtryth withdrew and Saeryn sat up and reluctantly pushed the blankets off herself. Her bare feet touched the cold floor and she shivered. She reached for her dress and began to prepare herself for the day, but just after she had pulled it over her head, her stomach seemed to flip. She stopped her movements and frowned, feeling disgusted and sick. What was this? She didn’t need to get sick in the middle of everything that was happening! Resolved not to feel ill, she commenced dressing.

By the time she came from her room, she looked palish green. She kept one hand pressed firmly against her belly, trying to calm the awful feeling of impending disaster. She slowly walked through the women’s quarters and out into the hall.

Modtryth was working around the tables. Saeryn called to her and beckoned with her hand. “Modtryth, I think I am ill.”