Gisoreux de Ponthieu - Chapter One |
Written by Gisoreux de Ponthieu | ||
Friday, 28 July 2006 | ||
Tales of Roiglan
Gisoreux de Ponthieu
Chapter One: A Fools Errant
y story starts in the year 1493 after the Twelfth Battle of Giles le Breton. I was born one cold and clear winter night, two weeks before I was expected. My parents, Baron Sandorin and Lady Evelinne, always told me how silent a youth I was. One of their favourite stories is that I once fell from my cradle and didn’t scare the entire household with crying as babies normally do. A different matter was when I cried for hours when I lost my little Fay Doll. My family was so shocked by my desperate cries that they made certain, it would never leave my side again by tying it to my right hand. Come to speak of it, I think the doll still lies in my old chamber.
My earliest recollection is of my sixth birthday when my father first presented me a shortsword of the finest and lightest steel ever to be found in the whole of Lyonesse. I was so proud to be a Knight that I wore the sword all day – except at night –, exercising even while playing. Not shortly afterwards my training as a noble of Bretonnia started with sword and horse practise. Of course these were adapted to the standards of a young lad: training with wooden swords and shields and exercising on ponies while closely being watched by my trainer, the squire Marcel. Verily, when I reached the age of twelve, I had surpassed the other sons of the household nobles in the skills of noble swordplay and horseback riding. My father gifted me with my first destrier at my twelfth birthday, a young and easy warhorse of pureblood; I named it Sandorin after my revered father. Thinking about my youth brings back old and forgotten memories: I still had trouble using the shield at age fifteen, preferring fighting without it as I found it cumbersome. My mentor was so outraged, he complained to my father. I remember my father striding down the stairs from the Great Hall with a firm expression in his face. He drew his sword and said: “Gissy, if you won’t learn the easy way then you’ll learn it my way. Now parry with your shield.” He delivered a blow which I nearly avoided by raising my shield. My father kept on coming, forcing me on the defensive and to use my shield at every possibility. At that time I was terrified since I believed him to be dead serious, yet now I know my father would never have wounded me for he controlled his blows masterly and diverted them if he passed my defence. The fight ended when I managed to hit him at the sword arm with my shield in pure desperateness. Although I had hurt him, he smiled that irritating half-smile of his and said: “Now, my son, you know the importance of the use of your shield. Never leave home without it.” I was mad at him for weeks, unable to forgive him for trying to get me killed and unable to understand why this was such an important lesson for me to learn. I realized shortly after that if I had left for my first battle without my trusty shield, I would have returned on top of one. My training continued on past my sixteenth birthday until I was getting anxious to be given my first Errand, which never seemed to come. Finally my father decided to send me on an errand. I remember as if it was the day of yesterday. Nervously I walked up to the thrones on which my beloved mother and father sat, clad in my ceremonial armour, both of them were looking oddly pale for such a happy occasion. My mother looked as if she had tears in her eyes. I realized this later on when I reflected on the matter. As I spoke the traditional words to inquire why Roiglan needed my sword, my father didn’t answer me directly but addressed the court instead: “Friends and kin, my only son’s sixteenth birthday has long yet passed and still I haven’t sent him on an Errand to prove his courage and skill. Understand this: I do not doubt his virtues, yet the only errand worthy of the name is a quest even a Chosen one would doubt. In these unusually peaceful times, there was only one threat to the lands of Roiglan: the dreaded Basilisk of Flarodell! The peasants of the village have reported numerous times that the young beast has made our lands his hunting grounds. It must die.” At that time I knew not what a basilisk was, yet hearing the gasps of the court and seeing their warding gestures, I felt this was a perilous duty. A few minutes passed as my father looked at me as if he still doubted whether he was sending me to glory and a certain death or keep me home to my own dishonour. At long last he continued, still addressing the household nobles: ” Even now my heart is doubtful: this is no Errant’s task, even a full Knight would encounter great difficulty. Yet my lord, the Duke of Lyonesse, has summoned me towards the court to deal with the threat of the Corsairs, threatening the north coast. This will be a long campaign and I need to leave the lands in capable hands. While I would not hesitate to perform this task myself for the glory and safety of Bretonnia, I have leave this to my son, for Roiglan!” Finally he addressed to me the ceremonial words: “Young noble of Bretonnia, the land needs your hand and sword. Take up the sword as a Knight Errant and fulfil your duty in honour’s name and in the name of the Lady, to the greater glory of Bretonnia and yours.” As my father ended with these ceremonial words I rose to my feet, made a quick half-turn and headed out of the Great Hall. From the corners of my eyes I could see the pale faces of the household nobles. Their eyes were filled with sorrow as they thought they saw a dead man walking.
I spent the rest of the afternoon gathering my gear and preparing for the long time away. It struck me that this would be the last time that I left Roiglan as a youth and would return as a full Knight. Yet at that moment the mocking voice of doubt pointed me to the fact that I needed to complete the quest first before I could return with honour. This might prove to be my banishment from ancestral grounds for eternity. Fighting against my tears I rose and fled out of my room, as I needed air. When I reached the balcony of the keep, I once again saw one of my most favourite sights in the Olde World: Roiglan sleeping in the dark hours of the night. I can still, today, stand there for hours, gazing at the darkness of the sleeping city. I must have stood there for an hour or so, never noticing I was being watched. Finally my mother came forward from the shadows, holding in her left hand a sheathed sword. I noticed that her eyes were red: it appeared that she had been crying a lot since the ceremony. I managed a brave smile as she strode towards me. She returned the smile and said: “My brave Gissy, it seems ages ago that I could hold you in my arms. Now sixteen years later and I still can’t let go.”She stroked my hair gently while studying my face. She seemed to view another world as she looked past me, as if I wasn’t there. She sighed and her eyes focussed once more. Weakly she continued: “To be gifted such an Errand is dangerous and foolish. My young and brave son, I beg of you: let me talk to your father. I’m sure he’ll come around.”“I know this mother… but that would dishonour me. I could never look into the face of any noble again. They would honour me in public, but would mock me behind me back. I would not have the loyalty of my men in battle and they would not be heartened in seeing me leading them. I would be a social outcast. I would shame the great name of de Ponthieu. No, mother, I must and shall finish this Errand honourably. Even if it means my death.” I replied with a stern voice and looked away. I knew my words would hurt my poor mother’s heart and I couldn’t bear looking at her. But even I wasn’t convinced of this Errand: a task that spells certain death is indeed not a wise Errand. I tried to hide my uncertainty from my revered mother but it was like trying to arm-wrestle a black orc. She knew me better than I knew myself, she noticed that I was uncertain and it hurt her even more. She gently took my arm and made me face her. While she held the sword towards me, she said:“I’ve done a lot of searching in the annals of our family to search for something to help.” I tried to protest but she continued before I managed to utter a single word: “Not many men can face a basilisk, even a young and strong one such as you. These are terrifying creatures and very cunning. If terror takes hold of you, you’ll petrify and perish. It was your ancient forefather Merald de Ponthieu who was known for his indomitable mind and his strong will. He died in a duel with a fierce, treacherous demon and some say his spirit still resides within his sword. This is it, take it! It will guard your mind when you face the horror of the Basilisk. I know honour’s code forbid help in your Errand, yet there is no honour found in dying. Take it and give your mother some peace of mind. Accept it and I will know you will return to us.”Of course my sense of honour made me protest yet I knew that it would ease her heart and maybe the stories were true. I took the sword at its hilt and studied it: I remembered seeing it lie next to the family heirlooms and heard someone say that this sword wasn’t combat-ready anymore. It looked blunted and stained yet in truth it was as sharp as ever. I looked in wonder as I noticed its sharpness. My mother retired to the inside of the keep and I followed her example, as next day I would head out to my glory or untimely death. The next day I remember that an honorary procession guided me out, yet there were no cheers and joy that day. Most were dressed in black as if I was already dead even though I didn’t realise it. As my trusted destrier Sandorin climbed the last hill that would take me out of sight of Roiglan, I remember seeing my parents standing on the balcony, looking at me. I remember thinking that this might have well been my last view of my beloved city and parents. Fear gripped me because of this last thought and as a reflex resulting from training I grasped the hilt of my sword in need for protection. Instantly I felt calmed and my mind was once more at ease. It was near midday as I reached the Forest of Arden near the village of Flarodell. I had hunted there before but never on my own and always at the side of my father. Somehow I felt reassured that from this day on I would become strong and independent. The crossing of the border of the forest marked the turning point between my youth and adulthood. Reciting the stories of my numerous encounters and skirmishes with the beasts that lived in that ancient forest would take far too long. But before the second week ended I had killed and seen more beasts such as orcs and the walking dead than I had in my lifetime before that.
I was camping near a small lake when I had my first encounter with the monster I searched for. I quickly averted my eyes as I saw the creature crashing trough the bushes surrounding the clearing. In the reflections of the pool I saw my prey: a scaly beast on six legs with a disgusting head and piercing yellow eyes. Luckily it seemed more interested in what lay beyond the other side of the pool and it ignored me. I quickly followed its trail from a distance, meanwhile hoping it would not notice me. The trails led me to a small hole, only just big enough for my size. Giving the beast some time to do whatever it was doing in there, I dismounted and tied my horse to a tree. Impetuous a youth I was, I crawled into the hole, my sword in my one hand and my shield on my back. It was pitch black within hole and a foul smell hung there. Here and there I found remains, some to my horror were apparently human. It took me a while crawling within the damp and dark earth before I seemed to reach a hole that seemed larger than the rest. Unshouldering my shield, I stood up, glad that I didn’t have to crawl anymore. I had nearly decided to strike up a torch as my eyes caught something which made my heart skip a few seconds. In the darkness of the hole there I saw its eyes. The eyes were so bright, it shone in the dark and it stared directly at me. Minutes passed and I dared not move, fearing to provoke an attack. I gathered all the bravery within me and clasped my sword tighter as I slowly started to advance on the beast. It kept on watching me with those horrendous eyes as if it would strike dead any moment. Few steps later I stood right in front of it and it still hadn’t moved. I know now it was asleep with its eyes open as a cruel trick of nature to defend itself in its sleep. How would anyone in their right minds attack such a creature with its eyes still open? I didn’t hesitate nor did my hand tremble as I slashed downward right through its neck. Quickly I averted my eyes as it woke and cried a chilling shriek of pain. For a short moment it thrashed about in agony. Two heartbeats later it lay still with my sword still impaled in its neck. I couldn’t believe it: I had done it! I had slain the basilisk. I had completed my Errand! I thanked the Lady for granting me such honour. Then I struck up a torch so I could collect its head as proof of my valour and bravery. Suddenly I stiffened as I heard scraping and earth being crushed underneath scaly paws. Something was climbing into the hole… What would possibly want find its way into such a peril-filled hole? I managed to quickly divert my eyes away as I saw its ugly head in the torch light. At the opening to the tunnel stood a second Basilisk! Lady, protect me! I had no choice but to make a frontal attack in the little cramped hole. As I charged the beast, I heard it snarl in anger. We were just a few steps apart when its eyes drew mine. Instantly I felt like an axe shattered my skull and became lodged into my brain. As I fell to the ground, writhing in immense mental pain, I fell into a dark tunnel with only those deadly eyes in front of me. It talked to me; it tried to make me despair:“What youngling is this who they threw before me? Who have they made into a sacrifice unto me? Surely they had no hope in defeating me? You have been betrayed, youngling, by your honour, your friends and kin. Your father and mother betrayed…”“No!” do not listen to the voice, young Knight,” said a second voice as before my eyes I saw an explosion of thousands of bright colours: “Believe in your strength! Hold true to your honour! Stand fast and you will slay this beast.”“Youngling, you have been betrayed. I will love to feel your broken flesh in my…”I remember yelling in agony as I thrust my blade forward. The point pierced its jaw and exited through its skull. Sobbing and with immense pain I fell to the ground. It had bitten me while I had lain unconscious on the floor. On top of the terrible pain in my head I started feeling feverish. Every muscle in my body protested as I stood up and tried to lean on my sword. I abandoned my shield in the hole: it was too heavy to carry. It took almost every last bit of strength left in my burning body to chop of the head of the second one and bind the two with a rope to my belt. The rest of my strength I needed to crawl out the smelly and damp earth. My eyes hurt like a thousand knives as I reached the above ground. The sun seemed to burn itself into my skull as my eyes were trying to adjust to the light. I tried to stand up again but my strength failed me for the first time and I fell back on the forest floor. I managed to look up to where I had tied Sandorin but he lay dead in a puddle of his own blood: the Basilisk had attacked the helpless creature while it was unable to flee and had started devouring it. This sorrow was too much for my powerless body, I passed into a dark and nightmarish dream, dominated by fear and fever. I remember that the eyes hunted me everywhere in my dreams, I couldn’t look away, run away, hide nor fight it, even when I closed my eyes those two cursed eyes, cursed threefold by our Lady, seemed to penetrate my thoughts. I don’t know how long my torment lasted but at last the eyes became to change: they became round, friendly and absolutely divine. The colour changed from hellish yellow to dark-blue like the sea just off the coast. The world materialized before me again as I slowly opened my eyes but those divine eyes didn’t leave me nor they ever will! My eyes immediately locked with those of someone I knew had to be my soul mate, my love of life, the woman I would love and hold forever even beyond death. I knew all this just from looking into those eyes. For minutes which seemed to last an eternity I kept on looking into these beautiful lifesaving eyes, those eyes and the wisdom that lay within, were meant just for me.The Lady had stolen some of her grace and locked it into her eyes just for me, I was certain. My firm gaze turned into a soft, loving one, which obviously confused her and made her feel uncomfortable. She turned her head sideways to avert my eyes and I could finally look upon my saviour and love. One of the Fay folk of Loren! “What does one of the Fay Folk do in Arden except saving me from death?” I asked in a weak and trembling voice: “You must have been sent by the Lady to save me!” At long last she responded in an accented Common: “I have my own reasons of visiting this ancient forest, young mortal. You seem a brave Knight, carrying those heads. But will honour help you in pursuing happiness?” I was startled by such an odd question. Why would she ask me such a thing? Of course honour was all. Would that make me happy? Definitely! I took her hand as I tried to sit up and failed, for my strength had not yet returned to my tormented body. She had taken care of the wound and succeeded in combating the poison. As I could see now, I was no longer lying in front of the hole but in round hut made of entangled branches in what seemed in a natural way, but what I now know to be magic. I could see other Elves of Loren outside, armed and packed, and I realised they were merely passing through. Still holding her hand I spoke to her in a voice most stern: “Milady, do not leave me. Stay with me or better: return with me to my home.” I was a bit surprised to see that those words didn’t startle her nor that it did surprise her. I continued whilst I laid her hand on my heart: “My love is true and inspired by the Lady. Feel my love for you pulsing in my honourable heart. Feel the love that we share. I know you only for a few minutes but in this heart of mine I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime with you by my side. Sit by my side, Enthanniel Myrthelith.” I firmly believe the Lady granted me her name yet it did not have the wanted effect: instead she rose, startled and eyes wide open. She was breathing heavily and as I tried to rise from my bed of forest leaves to calm her, she said: “How… how did you know my name? This is all very unsettling. I need to think this over.” She looked at me one last time but I saw something had changed in her manner towards me: I felt like she became more open to me. Yet then she hurried outside like a startled deer and I did not see her again for a long time. It took me quite a while to recover my strength: as I learned later it only took a few days in all. The Elves had left me supplies and some herb medicine that greatly improved my health. Although it were just a couple of days, it seemed like an age-long of torment: to be alone with my thoughts and nothing to comfort me. My love had left me and I did not know if I would ever see her again nor did I knew how to reach her to see her at least one more time. I got depressed as my thoughts betrayed me and I lost all hope ever finding my lost love. At long last I was able to stand up and collect my gear. The Elves had repaired all of it, including my armour, while I was unconscious. As I fastening the belts on my armour I felt differently then before. Slowly I realised that I was donning the armour as a true Knight of the Realm! Joy and happiness flooded the sad cries of my heart and I made my way towards Flarodell on foot, dragging the two rotting heads of the fearful beasts behind me on a rope. I reached the peasant’s village near noon and the peasants had returned home to eat. My return from my Errand and the two trophies were soon noticed and a crowd of cheering and dancing peasants gathered to escort me to the barracks of the local urban cohort of men-at-arms. The squire in charge – Alderick, if I recall well – quickly came running outside as he had seen the procession from the guard tower. Bowing his head and stumbling over his words, he asked: “Milord, what an honour! What brings you to Flarodell?” “I require a horse from the stables, my friend Alderick, for mine has unfortunately perished on my Errand.” I graciously added: “Don’t worry it will be brought back unharmed.”“Of course, Milord, right away, Milord.” He muttered and ran back inside to prepare a steed to take me home, back to Roiglan. While I was waiting, I told the gathered villagers about my adventure with the necessary touch of suspense and horror. I was nearly finished when Alderick came back with a young horse beside him. He looked merrier now that his task was complete and said: “Here ya go, Milord, it may be no Warhorse but she’ll do. She’ll carry you to the Chaos Wastes and back.” “Promising words. I’ll return to my father to deliver the good news.” It was near nightfall as I climbed the last hill leading up to my beloved city. Here and there torches had already been lit for the coming dark and the gates were about to close. Sheer joy overwhelmed me and I recklessly spurred the horse of the hill and to the gates. The four men-at-arms and the sergeant on guard looked in awe as they saw their future lord passing the gates dragging behind him two heads of fabled beasts. One made some warding gestures while the sergeant told another to warn the castle. Quickly the news of my return and triumph spread and as it was in Flarodell a large crowd gathered, following me towards the Motte. As I climbed the stair towards the courtyard of the keep I was positively beaming with pride. The two heads followed, being carried by two grunting men-at-arms. As I rose up the last step I saw my mother and father, looking overjoyed and relieved to see me again. Dropping the two heads of the infamous beast, I stumbled over to my loving parents. My body now felt tired and bruised as my adventure had drained all my energy. My father took me strongly in his arms for even for his long years, they had vigour remained in him. My mother took me softly in her arms afterwards. Through her lightest and gentlest of touches I felt her love and pride. Thus ended my youth and started my service as a full Knight of the Realm. The first chapter of my life was behind me and the future ahead. The only sorrow I still bore was that of my lost love. I tried to forget her, yet deep in my heart I knew that the emptiness she left there, would never leave me.
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Last Updated ( Friday, 28 July 2006 ) |