The Heirs of Britain - Game Twenty

The Heirs of Britain

Session 20: 486, The Walls of Winter

__________ Session 20: Devizes Castle, Northern Salisbury __________ 

The Siege of Castle Devizes continues into deep winter. The men are cold, huddled down around the dull fires. At home at Shrewton, Lady Diane gives birth to a healthy daughter; Sir Elvorix is not there to meet her.

Sir Vandagild, still secured in Bridge Castle, deep within Summerland, requests once more a trade of prisoners, himself for the knight he defeated; this is politely ignored. The knights and courtiers of Summerland are merciful and hospitable, and the scarred hunter is well kept.

A small voice at the door calls his attention; the Aquitanian knight finishes his prayer, and sharply asks the purpose:

“Sir knight? Be’est thee bored? I wish to play a game with thee; perhaps chess, or cards?”

Sir Vandagild turns and eyes carefully; a young squire, barely a teen.

“I am not one to game with Fae-touched deceivers. Away.”

The boy turns his head curiously, sadly: "I'm not fae-touched. I just want to play a game."

He waits for a response, but none is forthcoming. A small frown, a sad sigh, and quieting footsteps mark his departure.

He returns, each night, for over a week. Each night bears similarly bitter fruit.

On the twelfth night the hateful Sir Vandagild, resting lazily on his bed and ungrateful for the interruption, lurches at the boy. In a rage, he spits dark words, accusing the changeling of intrigue, deception, spying, and worse. The boy stumbles backward, against the far wall of the hall, and runs off.

The next night: Peace. Vandagild sighs in relief and solitude, breathing easily without the incessant scheming of elvish boys. A Fae trick will not be his downfall.

__________

Two weeks pass in this quietude; the Aquitanian prays, healing steadily, and brooding on the dark vengeance he will cut from the demon Sir Melwas.

But the boy returns.

Though he has been grateful for the Summerland hospitality, the man’s heart is filled this day only with suspicion and contempt. When the boy speaks, Vandagild corners him, towering over the terrified child: Bullying; berating; interrogating:

“What dost thou want of me, changeling!? Twelve times I tell thee no! Twelve times thy wretched masters send thee to ply thy secret ways. Godless heathen! Nay! Thy Fae tricks are lost, here, boy!”

Turning now to the hall, the boy curled tightly at his feet, Vandagild yells broader:

“Hear me, ye demons!? Sir Vandagild will not succumb to thy schemes, nor to thy  spells! Hear thee, me!? God protects me! I denounce thy foul ways! Yea, come now, so-called men, come and see how thy whispers go unheard; come and see how Sir Vandagild's resolve holds firm! Failed, have thee! God strike thee down!"

Several knights rush down the hall, grappling the shouting, furious knight and pulling him bodily away from the child. Sir Vandagild shakes his limbs free of the men, but walks willingly beside them nonetheless: “Unhand me, cursed man; I gave thee my word, I come with Honour!”

He is marched before some greater noble, perhaps a castellan, who has calm words for the restless man: He is told that if he cannot behave appropriately, he cannot be trusted to roam the halls. He must treat the nobles of the court with respect, or be confined less kindly.

"Speak thee of respect to me?" comes Vandagild's harsh, escalating whisper. 

"Nay! Thirteen times I tell this trickster no," his biting words fill the hall, "and still he comes forth to ply his schemes upon me! I will not succumb, and my will is unbroken. Trouble me not, knaves! Confine me or do not, I wish only to be rid of thy seductions!"

He is taken to the dungeon.

Sir Vandagild is happy in the cell. Here, alone, with God. He sits with some pride, having resisted the interrogation and subterfuge of the Fae, and staying true to God, Almighty, who has kept him safe despite his many challenges. He prays for health, vengeance, and freedom. He thinks of his family often.

Christmas comes and goes; though he hears dull hums of cheer above, he hears nothing else, and is brought no special meal. But in his cell, with Christ himself, he celebrates his victory over the Fae.

__________ The Christmas Camp at Devizes __________

The enormous Berroc-Saxon, Sir Uhtred, remains at the siege camp for Christmas; he has little else to do, and wishes eagerly to wet his axe. Sir Elvorix too stays for his famous loyalty to Earl Roderick obliges him. Together the two men observe the Castle Devizes which, though obviously garrisoned still by the men of Summerland, seems little attended on the day.

Earl Roderick brings carts of food for the besiegers, a lavish feast for each of them! The goods and spices are well-brought, and of finer quality than many of the knights might well keep in their own larders. The fine food roasts slowly over carefully managed fires, and the incredible aroma wafts through the winter air. Sir Elvorix notes, with a certain pleasure, that the besieged men are no doubt drowned by the tantalising tastes on the frosty breeze.

Sir Uhtred laughs heartily at this, in long, slow huffs: “I wager those miserable men have not half the pleasure of us.”

“Yea, and this billowing of gloroius gourmandry no doubt exacerbates their despair. Hah,” shares Elvorix, laughing aside.

The Roman would rather be at home with his newborn daughter, but he is happy enough here. He knows that this gruelling service is the price of his lavish and affluent lifestyle; if he must winter in a siege here and there to enjoy the summers in Shrewton, he considers still the deal in his favour. And it is nice that the Earl has brought such a grand meal to the siege camp!

Uhtred, unburdened by families, merely tolerates the discomfort, and eagerly awaits the battle in the thaw.

__________ Bolstered Battalions __________

Some weeks later, Earl Roderick calls for all unransomed captives knights to be brought forth. Among those produced is the Knight that Vandagild defeated alongside Elvorix, captured by Atticus; apparently he is Sir Maridoc, Famous in his own lands. The Roman brings the man forth, among several other knights. 

To the east, Sir Vandagild, still without his sword, is marched forth into the snowy Summerland bogs; other knights of Salisbury are with him, and each looks better kept than he. He says nothing, but walks steadily along.

Nearing the edge of some vast bog, he spies ahead the banners of Earl Roderick; he allows himself a small smile, but keeps his head down. A tense period of bargaining culminates with the exchange of captives. So freed, Sir Vandagild strides at once to his friend Elvorix; the two embrace warmly, sharing joyous words of reunion. The Aquitanian thanks his friends for helping him get free of that hellhole.

Sir Vandagild takes the afforded opportunity to briefly visit his family, spending some heady days with his energetic children, and the patient Father Perticus, before hastening to rejoin the siege: He wishes Vengeance on the Summerlanders, and is eager to fight with his Companions. He joins Elvorix on the ride back north; the latter has met his daughter, at least: Mother and child are both healthy.

Upon returning, Roderick’s forces are bolstered by an additional twenty knights. Sir Elvorix recognises the Heraldry at once: These are the men of the lands near Wynchbank - the lands of Ellen, Roderick's wife. The Roman knows that these knights were present at most battles since their blessed union, but they were not here at the earlier battle of Devizes. The three Wolves of Logres approach and talk with the newcomers, learning that they missed the battle as they were mustered by Ulfius, fighting Saxons. No battles proved decisive.

__________ Porkins’ Preposterous Plan __________

Roderick gathers his forces, reinforced with prisoners and the men of Wynchbank. He orders built a ram, of thick wood and iron capping, and such ladders as they will need to take the walls.

As the knights eagerly await the construction, Sir Porkins, Elvorix’ former squire, sheepishly joins them by their fire.

"What is it, Porkins? Spill it" says Elvorix, with practised authority.

Porkins has a plan: He knows a way for the Earl to Assault, a better plan than the Earl’s! Of course, his lower stature and nerves prevent him from telling him directly, but he hopes that if he can share it with Sir Elvorix and his friends, who they Earl respects greatly, he might listen to them!

The men look at each other, and then turn back.

Elvorix sighs audibly.

“Tell us thy plan.”

He says of this: There is a cliff on the side of the castle, with a rope up the face! There is no wall on that side, only the cliff face! If the Earl attacked there, some men could scale the cliff, on the ropes, and they would be right inside!

Sir Elvorix is immediately skeptical, and, ticking each off on his fingers, curtly explains the many problems with the plan.

But, Sir Porkins says he can climb it easily enough, even in full arms and armour!

“Hah,” scoffs the Roman, “Really? Really. Listen, Porkins: If thou can climb but half way up that cliff-face, and make it back alive, I will give thee two libra.”

Porkins hesitates but a moment, and then nods, starting up quickly to arm.

 “Christ above, not now, Porkins; everyone is watching! Later.”

The younger man nods, slightly embarrassed, and settles back to his spot.

“I suppose,” he replies, “it would be bad if I got caught…”

“Yes, Porkins, it would. And if worry thee for thyself, think how bad it would be for all of us too being so caught. Know well, do I, that thy pride bloometh with thy manhood, but there are good reasons we do things the way we do. And good reason for Earl Roderick, how does know well his trade, to attack how he does. We things this way, the Lord’s way, because it is the best way. I know no tales of Roman sieges in which they clamber up the back wall on a rope.”

Sir Vandagild agrees with the assessment of Elvorix; climbing a cliff face seems perfectly insane, and he wonders if Porkins has been sampling the Summerlander wine: “Sir Porkins, in any case, something must be climbed: We choose thee a simple rope over a sturdy ladder, held firm by good men? And how knowest thee that thou might climb this rope so well?

Porkins looks a little sheepish again, at this last: He used to use the rope to go see Lylla; don't tell anyone. It worked pretty well, he says.

Sir Vandagild looks at him with a blank face for two long moments.

“Who is that?”

“I… it is… uh.. Sir Ermell’s daughter. Please don’t tell anyone!”

Vandagild sighs, burying his slowly shaking head in a hand.

“So you were sneaking in there to sleep with-”

“We never slept together!”

“- to not sleep with Ermell’s daughter, as an unarmoured, over-amor’d squire, and you think we might do it too? Under watch of guards, who wish, I think, to fill our humble bodies with shafts and steel?”

“Well! If the Earl is assaulting the walls, they won't be watching the back!”

Sir Elvorix: “Porkins. Let us say, for thy sake, that we manage five knights up there: We stand not in stirrups, but on foot, and hence face a whole army in the courtyard of Devizes.

“Not if they're all on the walls!”

“Sure. Fine. Then what?”

Porkins chews quietly a moment, swallows slowly, and then looks down at the fire: “I kinda figured once we got to the tower we will just win.”

“This is no child’s game, Porkins! There is no flag that we can simply grasp and claim victory! Think, Porkins!”

“Well what if we just kill the commander?”

Sir Elvorix throws a half-eaten duck-wing at him.

__________ So Crazy It Might Just Work __________

Sir Uhtred, mouth very and repeatedly full, quietly considers that this is a very dramatic plan. The Glory a man might earn would be substantial. Perhaps, he thinks, he might just go himself.

He tells his friends a such, causing Elvorix to splutter on his wine, and Vandagild to laugh out loud.

“Hah! Bold it is, no doubt, and we do fight with God at our backs…” Vandagild adds.

“Five knights?” he considers, thoughtfully, “They might break in the confusion; a moment to rush the command post; they will not be well defended. The men on the walls might flee, and Roderick’s men gain them for but little blood. Hah ha… Bold. Foolish, but bold.”

The castle has two Bailey walls, and then the inner tower. It is formidable, some infiltration, some chaos, might panic the defenders.

Sir Elvorix throws several more duck bones in the air: “Fine! Well. I think thee witless, but think on it a time. If wish thee, Sir Porkins, to put thy Honour behind thy plan, then tell the Earl thyself. There are consequences to acting rashly.”

“So you won't speak to the Earl with me?”

“I will stand with thee, Porkins,” says Sir Vandagild seriously, “but I will not speak for thee. If you tell him thy plan, and the Earl wishes it, I will climb the rope with thee.”

Sir Uhtred shrugs, and claps Vandagild on the shoulder, rocking him bodily: “Eh, that’s the spirit. Give us something interesting to do, at least.”

Porkins thanks the men profusely, and leaves to prepare his proposition more thoroughly.

“You know,” Sir Elvorix starts quietly, “that if he persuades the Earl to do this that many knights will die in the attempt.”

Vandagild huffs a single laugh: “He will not, I do not worry. But if he does? Then we few knights will have the glory of taking the castle! Would thee be such a knight, Sir Elvorix; have thee the valour?”

Elvorix sighs and shakes his head: “Valour I have, Sir Vandagild; but I also have not been captured twice.”

__________ The Madness Continues __________

Sir Elvorix is gently shaken awake by Porkins.

"What do you want?"

“I want the two libra. I care not if we do the plan, but I want the two libra! You promised.”

Elvorix looks closer now, in the dark; Porkins is dressed in full arms, with his sword.

Elvorix shrugs, wakes his squire, Vandimund, and they both suit up.

The cunning Roman takes in the moon; it is thin, and the night is dark.

“Alright. It's on your Honour, Porkins; the night wishes it so! If thinketh thee that halfway is made, then you slide on down.”

Porkins nods curtly, determination on his face, and the three leave the camp: They are questioned by Sentries, but Elvorix tells them to worry not the affairs of knights.

The eager young knight leads them through the woods around the castle. They soon enough reach the edge of the wood, near a frozen lake.

“Promise me,” Elvorix warns, “that if you can't make it, you won't pursue this any further. But if you do, I'll stand beside you with the Earl.”

Porkins scoffs, “Fine, but it’s not even a promise because I’m definitely going to make it, OK!?”

Elvorix sighs.

The snow crunches as he runs off into the dark, soon beyond sight, soon beyond sound. The bottom of the cliff is black as pitch; the warm light from atop the promontory does not reach it.

Sir Elvorix waits a while, hearing nothing. He is not nervous, and worries not for the lad. He scans the black mass before him: The light is bad low, but the Roman thinks he would be able to see the mad young knight if he were near the top.

Eventually, midway up, Elvorix sees Sir Porkins, halfway up the rope, swaying and climbing. He looks awkward and inefficient; the swaying knight looks to almost fall on several occasions, smacking roughly into the side of the cliff...

The Roman, with small concern, looks up. Some few men, and some faint voices, approach the edge, atop the promontory. Down they look.. and they look... and they walk away.

Eventually Porkins returns. He is breathing heavily, but he reports in proudly.

“Alright! I did it!” he exclaims in an excited whisper, brushing away his fringe and holding forth an open hand.

“Fine. And you still think it's a good idea? In the battle?”

“I mean… yeah! I could've gone up.”

Sir Elvorix sighs, and shakes his head, and starts the group back toward the camp through the forest.

“Porkins. If you had made it, those three men would've cut you down.”

“It won't just be me! Besides, I could've cut them down!”

The Roman sighs again: “I will pay you, but you have to give this up.”

“That wasn't the deal!”

“Christ, Porkins; you think you are in fighting shape right now?”

“I can fight!”

“Fine,” Elvorix says, drawing his sword, “show me.”

Porkins looks at the armed man; Elvorix sets his feet in the frozen grass.

Porkins fumbles at his sword a moment, before producing it quickly and finding his own stance.

Elvorix offers a simple thrust; a feint, on which Porkins bites hard; a second later the younger man’s blade lies in the snow. Porkins looks down at his hand, across to his sword, and back to Elvorix; the latter’s point rests on his larynx.

“That's not fair! I didn't think you were going to like.. try!”

“I’m not trying, Porkins. This is me taking it easy on you. So you don't hurt yourself.”

The Roman flourishes his blade back its sheath.

Porkins kicks at the snow in frustration, retrieving his arms and trudging off in a huff.

“Promise me!” Elvorix calls after him.

He receives no promise; so he shrugs and follows the younger man back to camp, where he writes the promissory note for two libra.

__________ The Final Test __________

Over the next few days, Sir Porkins doesn't approach either Vandagild or Uhtred, to call on their escort to the Earl. The Aquitanian notes the man's coy behaviour around the Roman, and inquires; he learns the story in brief from Elvorix. Vandagild laughs.

“It’s probably for the best.” Elvorix tells him. “Now, let’s get to training: We’ll need to be in tip-top shape for the battle.”

“Are we not?”

Elvorix laughs; Vandagild follows, patting his slight belly; Summerland stew.

“Well; that aside: I gave the boy my word,” Vandagild begins, “But I should like to test it myself before I commit to the idea.”

Sir Elvorix sighs again, and offers Vandagild a libra to climb the rope.

He isn't a gambling man, but the scarred Aquitanian wants to test it nonetheless; he accepts. Of course, he at once seeks the permission of Sir Elad, his commander, to leave the camp the next evening: He finds the man at his table, planning the attack.

Vandagild explains the situation: Sir Porkins tells of a rope up the back of the castle; he wants to see if the plan is at all viable and try climbing it in the evening but, of course, requires the same permission he gave Sir Porkins to test it.

Elad is both busy, frustrated and now incredulous: “You… what? What in God’s name are you talking about, Vandagild. Do not take the power of thy new status as eschille commander to thy head; you do as I say; follow my orders.”

“Of course, Sir, which is why I ask thee now.”

“Denied. Wait: Porkins climbed this rope? When?”

“Wh… I see. Several nights ago, Sir.”

Sir Elad nods, stands sharply, and marches off into the camp: “Porkins? Porkins! Here; Now!”

Vandagild stands mutely a few moments, coughing to himself, before walking ashemdly back to his camp.

The next day: Sir Porkins is sent home. Vandgaild sends him a letter of apology.

__________ Assaulting Devizes! __________

There is no more talk of climbing the rope. Uhtred finds the whole thing rather funny.

After breakfast, Roderick gathers and addresses his army:

“Warriors of Salisbury: The walls are to be assaulted. Climb thee the ladder; Do not thee slow down; If any are in thy way, kill them. And then keep thee moving forward. The ram will defeat the gates; we will have our victory.”

The gathered men are instilled with some confidence at the simple speech; Roderick is a great war-leader, and the defenders of Summerland have had a rough winter.

Above: The garrison have noticed the arrayed men; the walls is now fully-manned, a surprising number of soldiers stand atop the walls, though most are neither well-equipped nor physically impressive. Sir Uhtred volunteers at once to be in the first charge, and the first wave. Sir Vandagild, bearer of many wounds, still not fully healed, and only recently restored to freedom, is Prudent, taking his normal place in the line. Sir Elvorix doesn't consider volunteering; he need not die here.

The army is arrayed; men laugh to one another, spending nervous energy on dark humour and bravado. Banners fly, and horns blare: A rumbling surge as the first men of Salisbury advance in good order on the walls of Devizes.

Uhtred is on foot, here, bearing a ladder with many other men. Bolts fly out from the walls; crossbows! The Wolves are unhit by the deadly barrage; many others have less fortune; the thick bolts punch through the lesser armour of the infantry, and some through the mail of the noble warriors among them; screams fly from some; still others advance with dull grunts and stern silence, undeterred by their impalement.

Rushing forward, the hulking Uhtred plants his ladder heavily at the base of the wall; two footmen are before him up the wall, but he climbs steadily behind them. A single Summerlander spearmen stands atop the battlements there; though he shoves and heaves he cannot push down the ladder - the weight of the gathered men are too great! Instead, he readies himself, and quickly spears down the first footmen with little trouble, and the second also falls. Sir Uhtred is next in line, first knight to the parapets, his brilliant greataxe carried easily in hand.

The defender, with the advantage of height, thrusts down hard and fast; the ladder-borne Uhtred, so hampered, fails to swat aside the blow as he sets his feet among the rungs, taking a shallow wound through his mail and into the shoulder!

Meanwhile, Sirs Elvorix and Vandagild, seeing men stumble and fall before them, struck down by bolts and spears, take their own place on the ladders ahead, working upward, holding the rungs tightly as wounded and dying men fall past them, battering with the flailing bodies.

Sir Uhtred, luring his man to overextend, lurches forward with terrible speed and power, slipping the spear and whipping his foes head clean free; the spurting thing tumbles into the massed men of Summerland, drenching those nearest in a sanguine shower; Uhtred heaves himself swiftly into the breech!

Sir Vandagild, calling on his Loyalty to Roderick, for whom he fights this day, takes a strong blow through his shield and mail from the sturdy spearman before him, but holds his place on the ladder. Elvorix too, inspired by Roderick, engages carefully, taking a jarring spear blow on his shield, catching him wrong-footed, and sending him tumbling hard to the earth below!

__________ Blood and Battle! __________

Taking the battlements, Sir Uhtred now battles two men atop the walls, hewing broadly with his great-axe! His sweeping blows fall short of enemy flesh, earning him another speartip, which is held out by the huge man's maille. Sir Vandagild makes some ground, smiting his own spear-wielding foe, drawing a broad but shallow wound through his collar and knocking him from his feet! The scarred Aquitanian takes the opportunity to rush up the final rungs, setting feet atop the rampart! Sir Elvorix, having reclaimed his place on the ladder, defends himself ably but gains no ground…

The massive Uhtred, swarmed now by three soldiers, grits his teeth and roars as he unleashes a terrible attack: Ignoring the meagre thrusts of the enemy infantry and trusting instead to his sturdy mail, he lays about him with terrible effect. As speartips entangle in his armour, he is irresistible: He hacks through the first shield, and the man, who folds beneath the blow; a second head is sent tumbling into the walls, and his third blow splits a man from collar to belly.

"IS THIS WHAT SUMMERLAND HAS TO OFFER!?!" he roars, drenched in the blood of his foes and standing atop their lifeless flesh: Men around him shy from the horrific display!

Sir Vandagild too, battling now three smaller men on the wall, sets aside his own safety to cut through the men around him: In seconds, two spearmen are dead or dying, and the third is wounded sorely, the Aquitanian hewing and thrusting with deadly precision!

Sir Elvorix, still pushing up his ladder, is struck by a spear as he, forgoing his own defence, thrust his blade upward: His blade knocks aside the humble shield, and slides deep into the gut of the enemy footmen! He collapses, bleeding and gurgling, to the floor and out of the fight. Elvorix rushed forth to stand too on the walls!

"Ha! Now thee, Summerlanders; take thee finally what cometh to thee!"

__________

More men rush to swarm the relentless Wolves! Knights now rush to fill the growing gaps in the defensive line, and Sirs Uhtred and Vandagild now face these elite men atop the walls, each flanked by a pair of spearmen! Outnumbered, Sir Uhtred cannot land his thundering blows against the two men beside him, and his Knightly foe cuts hard into the huge man's flank: He grunts in pain, and growls threateningly: "Finally, a man worth killing!"

Sir Vandagild fights with balance and skill, carefully playing his shield among the attacks of his foes, and countering as they extend: One spearman falls, bleeding and gasping, as the Summerland knight and second spearmen each take wounds from the Aquitanian’s flashing blade.

Sir Elvorix, cursed with fay luck, wounds one footman, but loses his sword in a strange twist, as it strikes a strange angle on the foe's shield!

Each man fights now against three warriors! Elvorix against only footmen, while knights beset the Aquitanian and Berroc-Saxon. But these warriors show well their valour and skill; Though each man is struck in the ensuing battle, their armour and footing both hold; spearmen are cut down by each, here and there, and Uhtred too wounds the knight he battles!

As these three knights hold their breaks, and cut down the men around them, still other men of Salisbury find now their own breaches. So pressed, and now losing the advantage of their walls, the defenders start to break!

The Aquitanian carefully presses his advantage: The footman at his feet is too slow to escape, and Vandagild mercifully demands that he surrender. The man can control neither his fear nor bowels, and the hunter, kicking his spear away, bids a nearby soldier to secure him. Sir Elvorix executes his stumbling foe mercilessly, and Sir Uhtred lustful for the battle and flushed with the adrenaline of his wounds, hacks two fleeing footmen in half! Further, his magnificent antique axe slams heavily once more into the wounded Summerland knight as he scrambles free of the devastating melee; the man lives to escape the walls, but with nowhere to go, he will soon face capture, and the Earl’s wrath.

The brutal fighting moves down into the streets of the castle, the men advance rapidly; none of the Wolves take the opportunity to loot the houses and shops of the people within; focusing instead on consolidating their victory on the walls. The gate soon bursts open, and more Salisbury men burst into the town through the breach. Once more, ladders are brought forth, and pressed high onto the second round of walls.

Though the defenders rally once more atop this second fortification, the knights of Salisbury have the momentum. Sir Elvorix is swift in his assault; he is first atop the new ladders and cuts down his defending footmen at once. He is among the first to make it up and over the wall, while other men struggle to overcome defenders, and cuts down several soldiers as he fights to inner-gatehouse. Sir Uhtred struggles to overcome a determined foe atop the second wall; felling him after a prolonged battle but unable to reach the gatehouse in any significant fashion. Sir Vandagild is only shortly behind his Roman friend, battling swiftly to join him in overcoming the gatehouse, where the two men kill the exhausted defenders and raise the inner gate, precipitating a mass surrender and great victory!

With the defences gone, the men of Summerland surrender! The siege is won! The commander of the garrison emerges from the tower within, and ceremoniously passes command to Earl Roderick. The Earl, in his pride, takes several knights prisoner and executes them; they had their chance to surrender and the savage treatment of siege defenders in this era is well known.

The men of Salisbury celebrate their victory within the walls, the wounded are treated while others tell grim but joyous stories of their exploits and injuries.

The following day, as the gathered forces consolidate their victory, a messenger arrives from Sarum: King Uther is coming to Sarum for Easter, and Prince Madoc recruits for raids against the Saxons in Essex…

__________

 

King Arthur Pendragon 5.2

Images by Midjourney, which I use with some moral uncertainty.

Thanks to my fellow players and GM for being good at this game.