Year 487 - The Battle of Humber River

[Geoffrey]

Rodric blinked a few times, trying in vain to sharpen the blurred images of his friends that were around him.  His breathing was shallow and haggard and he could feel his end was very, very near

 “It has been an honor…to fight beside all of you…” he tried to turn his head but was unable to, so his eyes shifted slightly to the blurred form of Valka, who’s red hair still made her easily identifiable.

“It was an honor…to welcome you…Arne…your people…into…my home…my family…” his eyes blinked slowly and his breathing became more labored.

“Tell Habren…send for Geoffrey…he is a good…stout man…will serve well…until our sons…” his voice trailed off.

“Tell her…being here was…right…I am sorry…I won’t be…by her side…or there for our sons.”  Rodric coughed, some blood trickled from his mouth and his chest was barely moving as he fought for each breath, but it was a fight that was about to end.

Tears began to form in the corners of his eyes as the sadness knowing that he would never feel her touch again, and he would not get to know the men his sons would grow up to become, began to set in.

“Tell…I Love her…will wait…her…in heav…”

[Cedwyn]

"Go with God, Rodric," Cedwyn choked through his tears. He could easily recall his brother knight's laugh. Their time as squires when the older man had helped younger squires including himself. The mock combat and laughs. Fisticuffs and play fighting that had prepared them. Riding to battle together as knights for the first time. Their capture and escape from the Saxon sorceress. The desperate fight to kill her and her pagan dogs. The patrol where they'd met Arne and Valka.

Hot tears poured out of Cedwyn's eyes as he closed Rodric's unseeing ones for him.

"I will tell her, my brother. I will tell her."

[Valka]

Valka tried valiantly to blink back tears. It was all just too much, even for a northwoman. To die in battle was the ultimate glory for warriors. Usually a time of sadness but also great joy, even for friends and loved ones. But this death was different to her.

Rodric would not be going to Valhalla. She, like Arne and all of the northmen warriors, would never see him again. It was a loss of a different kind. Something new, something terrible to come to terms with. She looked away finally, letting the tears fall.

“All northmen born on these shores will sing his tale and the name Sir Rodric will be remembered in Valhalla. It is known.”

She nodded to herself. Yes, if they could not fight alongside one another again in the Great Battle, she would make sure that the knight would never be forgotten to her people.

Valka moved her hand from his and placed it on Cedwyn's shoulder. The grip was strong and reassuring, but not lingering. His grief was his own, and not something she ought to tread hard upon.

[Artaigne]

The Irish warrior stood by as he witnessed the passing of a man he had only recently met.  With a prayer to the saint to carry Rodric safely to heaven, Artaigne stood by and grieved while waiting for orders.

[Cedwyn]

Cedwyn stood on unsteady knees. The weight of grief pulling him down was even more ponderous than the exhaustion of the battle and effect of his wounds.

"Valka. Can you bring Rodric's horse over? We will have to tie his body to it till we are relieved," it seemed cold to Cedwyn to do so but Rodric would have dons the same. There was no reason to give the Praetor more cause. And if he played his hand right, Rodric's death in service to Malahaut might be able to spur the Praetor south at least.

"Rodric would want us to do everything we can to bring the Praetor to a moot with His Grace."

[Valka]

"He would," she nodded, taking to her feet. She took a deep breath and peered back to Cedwyn. She wanted to remind him that although she and Rodric had impressed the Praetor with their audacity and persistence, Malahaut only agreed to allow them to join the march, making no promise to heed their request. Rodric had wanted the battle regardless, something that did him much honor in her eyes, and Arne's as well. But she feared it was much for Cedwyn to hear in that moment.

Valka turned instead, and with spear in hand started walking over to the fallen knight's horse to retrieve it.

[Artaigne]

Once the horse arrived, Artaigne assisted in getting Rodric up on to it.  Taking care to show as much reverence as possible, he lashed the fallen knight in place before setting his weapons next to him as honor dictated.

[GM Craig]

With the help of your hires squires, you recover the two stray mounts, and gently secure Sir Rodric's body onto his animal.

A few short minutes later, a group of knights gallops out of the command area of the battle, heading towards your position. They arrive quickly, riding hard. Centurion Junius is leading them. They rein in hard as Junius takes in the scene.

"There were no sign of Saxon commanders, nor their leader, on the battlefield. They Praetor feels they may have tried to escape." He looks over the scene, and seems to reach some conclusions. "What happened here?"

[Cedwyn]

Cedwyn's voice was flat and thick with despair as he spoke, "Their leader and commanders made for an escape through here. We met them in combat and wounded their leader most grievously but they were able to make good their escape with only us three versus them."

[GM Craig]

The centurion turns to those with him. "Go! Quickly! We may still catch them. Gods willing, they will find all their ships burnt!"

The other gallop off, and the centurion starts to follow, but reins in his horse. In a somewhat gentler voice he says, "Get back to camp."

With that, he lashes his horse and gallops after his fellows.

The ride back to camp is difficult. Your feelings of remorse lie in stark contrast to the jubilation around you. Your squires, as subdued as you are, set about preparing food, storing war gear and cleaning your equipment.

The sun sets on the camp, and you hear singing not far away as the Praetor's troops continue to celebrate into the night.

At one point in the late evening, one of your squires returns with fresh water. He comes up to where the three of you are trying hard to ignore the bundle off to the side. "M'lord?" He says to Sir Cedwyn. "Word is the centurion is back, and empty handed. Seems there were boats to the east, and the Saxon lord made good his escape."

[Cedwyn]

Cedwyn didn't have many words to spare and nodded. And a thought occurred.

"Pour me two flagons of wine, if you please lad," it was a gentle command. Perhaps a cup of wine to build bonds would work. They all had bled together today. Cedwyn looked to the bundle. May he be damned if Rodric's sacrifice was to go to waste.

"I will return hence shortly," he said to Artaigne and Valka. Asking the squire, lWhere is Centurion Junius?"

He nodded when told and stalked off seeking the centurion. Cedwyn looked he found him.

Holding out the flagon of wine, "Greetings Centurion. I hear you gave good chase to the Saxon dogs. 'Tis southern wine so mayhap not what you are used to but I offee it up for your thirst."

[GM Craig]

The Centurion does not look pleased when you enter his camp. He glances up at you, anger in his eyes.

"You should not be speaking to me this night, Sir Cedwyn. I am most displeased with you." Still, he takes the flagon and draws deeply.

"You may sit, but only because I have much to say to you."

Unsure, you take the offered seat by the fire.

"I had to inform the Praetor that I filed him this day. That stain on my honour is due in no small part to your group. The man who escaped - who you and your fellows let escape - was the son of King Hengist of the Saxons in Kent. I understand that you were bested. I am not surprised - the best warriors in their raid made his bodyguard. But when you were defeated, you let them leave and not so much as a message was passed! They barely slipped through our fingers, but had we arrived a scant few minutes earlier, we could have caught them on the beach! Had you had the wherewithal to send word, we could have had a powerful counter to Hengist!"

He pauses to drink the wine. "True, Hengist has sons aplenty, but one does not lightly allow a prince to be killed. We did bloody Hengist's nose this day, but we could have done so much more!"

"You tell me the prince was badly wounded. Perhaps he will die. But if he lives, he will want vengeance. If he lives he will be back, and not just for plunder."

[GM Craig]

[Arne is not yet conscious. He'll have another roll at midnight.]

[Cedwyn]

Cedwyn groaned. He was so focused on his brother knight and friend dying. He remembered little else of what happened after Rodric fell. But he remembered the promise in the eyes of the princeling's guards.

"Tis not your failing Centurion Junius. Tis mine. I let my grief over Sir Rodric's death rule me. I should know better. An' it please you, I will go before the Praetor and take my responsibility for this. Your honor should not be stained because I failed in my duty."

[GM Craig]

Junius looks up at you, his eyes searching yours.

"I am given to understand you have reason to seek the Praetor's favour. You would remove this stain upon my honour, even sacrificing the Praetor's favour?"