Sir Padern here
We were having one of those blustery Lindsey spring days; no one felt like going out, so we were all in the hall entertaining ourselves while Idar tried to conduct whatever business it is he does with his multitudinous peasants. Lady Priscilla was sitting on Brandigoris's lap and singing prettily, Martin and I were instructing young Merin on the finer points of knucklebones, and the rain beat against Leicester's walls.
Fitting I suppose that on a day of such wild weather Lady Igraine and her small retinue showed up at court. Gwair and I made ourselves scarce, but Martin gave us the heads-up before Idar called us over: she wanted an escort for her and her daughter, as her daughter Morgan was to marry King Uriens.
But Idar, we said, Igraine hates us. She promised to see Gwair and I dead.
But I can't send Sir George and those rotters, the Lambor knights, Idar said.
Dead, Idar. She pointed at us and said dead.
Idar asked us if we wanted to die in bed like women so we said fine and told our squires to get ready for a journey. So Gwair and I, Brandegoris, Martin, and young Sir Merin joined the Nun-Queen's party of Salisbury knights riding north to Gorre.
Yes, we got lost in the mountains. But we did find our way to Gorre, and I must say, those northerners can't make a decent pudding to save their lives, but they do turn out a fine cake.
And, as with any involvement with Lady Igraine and her strange, twisted family, there were...anomolies. As I was thoroughly lost in the Pennines, I can only report what I was told by my fellow Lindseymen, who say that they were separated from the royal party and Salisbury knights, but Sir Brandygoris unerringly lead them right to the Queen and her daughter—he was unclear on the why and how of this—only to find them standing unharmed in a field of dead Saxons. "They made a mistake," was all creepy young Lady Morgan would say.
It was a lovely wedding, as those things go. And at the feast Lady Morgan kept Sir Brandagoris well-supplied with wine, real wine. Well!
One minute I was sitting at my good mate Count Idar's Court in Leicester on a fine spring day, and my most adorable lady wife was feeding me pickled eggs by the barrel, when suddenly we had word that The most noble christian Queeen Ygraine of Amesbury was passing through our fine city and needed a proper escort to the far northern lands of Gorre. May as well be Rome Padern had grumbled. At least in Rome there are PROPER whores, Gwair had agreed.
It seemed that Ygraine's youngest daughter Morgan was to be wed to King Uriens OF of Gorre. It also happened that long ago Ygraine had had a run in with Sir Gwair and Sir Padern and was none to fond of them. In fact HATE was the word used most often to describe her most base feelings about them. HMMMM... I thought...... How will this turn out? Something about helping Merlin steal her child...... Doubtful I thought... Unless Padern couldve sold the child as a slave maybe? Or If she had said that Gwair had stole her handmaiden... Something truly believable, you know? But really, what would the two of them care for a shitting, ugly little infant? I think there was some large misunderstanding.
Anyway..... We agreed that we would escort Morgan to that backward-ass country and her Hillbilly King. If you are a king of stinking pig farmers are you really a KING? I dont know.... They were certainly not OVERLY generous in their rewards. I Blame it on their pagan heritage. Hell even Gwair is more generous than that dingy little King. He'll always at least share his fishermans wife or whatever.
So we went through Carohaise and several other smaller cities and castles, and I believe Gwair bedded a lady at every one. Dispicable behavior, but I guess being a Pagen has it's advantages. There was a very nice young serving wench that he bedded at Carohaise. I think her name was Milly, but after several pints Gwair referd to her as Cake, and I believe he still cant remember her name and still simply refers to her as an after dinner sweet. Apparently she had a friend that he called pudding.... Im not sure. I believe I will try to get gwair to pursue a real interst with Milly( aka cake) since his own very loyal and lovely wife Lilly died in childbirth this very year, Cake did have an uncommonly quick wit and vast tracks of fertile soil to plow. Well, after years of the figting and back sassing from his Too-independant Lady-wife lilly I believe he is BLOWING off a little Steam. But for a commoner Milly-Cake is well spoken and clever. We will see....
Of course she is called Cake due to the fact that Padern was So violently dissapointed with King Leodegrances fair (PUDDING AGAIN!) that his old bones yearned for nothing more than one slice of cake served at the HIGH table (8000+ glory) Not unreasonable. They were very stingy however with there baked goods. In fact Gwair served Milly and then milly served Padern Cake.... Coincidence..... NO! Thus... Millys nickname.
Also, Did I mention that Paderns old ass got laid? Thanks to Gwair who It seemed to me was returning some old favor owed? Hmmmm... When I asked them to elaborate on the subject i simply got a wink and a polite blow off.Apparenty Its between them and has somethig to do with Convalescing? It appears that Padern actually hooked up lilly and Gwair on purpose and later Gwair got a wife. Padern it seems has no interest in gaining another wife at his age. Just a fine young lass to lie to him about his distinguished looks and sexual prowess. We all need that from time to time. I for instance am fortunate that Priscilla has such a kind heart and good sense of humor as it seems that no matter how large a man is or how big his extremities..... anyway,....
enough tripe. We after much personal anguish and torment, did get Morgan the Very strange to her Groom!
Since she seemed knowledgable about certain Pagan subjects, I asked her very delicately how best to defeat the Black Annis that has long plauged our good Count's land. She said the only way was an Iron Knife in the gizzards, so I am now practicing daily with my dagger in hopes that I can one day avenge my brother-in-law Rhun's death at the demon's hands. He will be avenged. That I vow.
In the end I was just glad to get back to the loving arms of my sweet sweet lady.
I am cuirrently spending a fortune on badley groomed and mannered Irish Kerns who it seems are the only viable source that one can attain to teach Knife fighting with any real degree of skill. Oh well, life is shit.
Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sir Merin.
As a young boy in Lincoln, I watched as my father served alongside great men like Sir Padern and Sir Edar. Throughout my time as a squire I listened to reports of the Candlebees and the Iron Men of Lindsey. Now that I have been knighted, I have had the honor of swearing allegiance to Count Edar and serving alongside these legendary men. To say I am overwhelmed is an understatement.
When Count Edar instructed us to escort the queen I thought it was a proud moment. Our inspection met with her satisfaction. She definitely took notice of the Lindsey contingent of her escort. I thought this would present us with the chance to impress the queen, but alas, we were sent ahead to act as scouts.
Travelling with the men I have heard tales of for so long is an interesting experience. These knights live life in the manner most only hear about in stories! Gwair and Padern found eager women in the courts of our hosts who doted on them, eager to listen to their stories. Sir Martin, Brandegoris and I were much more subdued by comparison, but there is no way to compete with the accomplishments of Sir Padern and Sir Gwair. Well, Brandegoris' accomplishments with the Ham-bone attracted many people for the story, but the man was only recently married, and spent much of our trip thinking of his wife. I can only hope that when I marry, I will find someone who I will treasure so dearly.
I look forward to fighting alongside these men and driving the Saxons from our home once and for all!