A True History of The Isles Part 15- The Road to 1066

As we are in the general region of the 950th anniversary of the The Battle of Hastings, there will be much written about the battle, with some very minor introductions concerning the events leading up unto the event. As the years leading up to 1066, are vital to the story it is very important a more detailed account should be given to explain the complexity. This seminar addresses the issue by looking back in a neat fashion to the beginning of the millennium.


Aethelred- Legally he was ‘The II’. Commonly he has been known as ‘The Unready ‘. Historian are quick to tell anyone within conversation distance that he was actually known as ‘The Unread’ which when you squash the ‘e’ & the ‘a’ together in saxon English means ill-advised. In Anglo-Saxon times saying ‘Aethelred unread’ was considered very funny.


It should be pointed out however that even if he was ill-counselled, that would mean he was never really ready, because he was not advised to be ready and so he was unready, to be ready, when he should have been ready just in case he might have been unready, as anyone who is ready knows there’s a chance of being unready and you have to be ready for that. Whereas if you are unready then you’ll never know when you should be ready.

If you see what I mean.

Aethelred was also bothered by Danes, who having learnt that Alfred was quite, quite dead had decided to come back again; which aside from being tough on the Anglo-Saxons was a bit unsettling for those Danes who settled some while back and were farming, fishing etc. Aethelred being ready to listen to bad counsel ordered a massacre of Danes on St Brice’s Day in 1002, hoping that slaughter on a Saint’s Day would make it alright.

It didn’t. The Danes didn’t see it that way at all.

Aethelred was obliged to flee to Normandy, hoping they would understand. For family reasons they did and he came back, and became king again, but not really being ready for the fact that a lot of Anglo-Saxon nobles including his son preferred Danes, then changed their minds, he became confused and died.

Edmund Ironside– Son of Aethelred. Despite this impressive name and trying to be a king, Edmund was unable to defeat the Danes and so agreed to divide the country up with Cnut who although as not as impressive sounding as his father Sweyn The Forkbeard was clever enough to allow his name to also be spelt as Canute as so acceptable to his subjects. As was common at the time Edmund was also so confused by the whole business that he died, but tragically didn’t know how or where.

Canute or Cnut The Great- Being a very astute and orderly ruler the first thing Canute did was massacre all those Anglo-Saxon nobles who couldn’t work out who should be king and of where; by the standards of those times this was considered a kindly act as it put them out of their misery and everyone who survived knew who was who. The next thing Cnut (or Canute) (The Great- Either Way) did was to tell all of the Vikings as he was ruler they couldn’t raid England anymore. Those who didn’t agree were obliged back to go Norway, Denmark or Sweden where they could fight those who would understand. This was a bad plan as Canute (or Cnut) simply followed them there to fight them back. The Anglo-Saxons didn’t have a problem with this. The next thing Canute did on returning was take a few days out sitting on a beach, soaking his feet in refreshing sea water and pondering on whether Cnut or Canute looked more impressive on the coinage; folk read far too much into that holiday. On realising he was now king of The Anglo Saxons, all the Danes and ‘some of the Swedes’ (presumably quite easy-going ones) he felt he should play safe and so went on a pilgrimage to Rome. Having achieved all of that and still ahead of the game he wisely died in 1035

Harald: As his brother Harthacnut was unable to get an exit visa out of Denmark due wars, rebellions, Norwegians and soliloquies and Harald was not doing much he said he was willing to take the job on. He wished this to be quite formal but due to the usual civil administrative delays he was not crowned until 1037. During his reign, he was obliged to rush about the country dealing with rebellions and exiled Anglo-Saxons trying to sneak back in and claim his father was not who he was and so they should be king. So fast was he, folk called him Harefoot. In trying to live up to this title he died of exhaustion in 1040; but safe in the knowledge he would be recorded as Harold the ‘I’.

Harthacnut; Because he knew he should have been king from 1035 and half-brother Harald was supposed to rule in his plaice but not become king, Harthacnut arrived knowing something was fishy. On finding out half-brother Harald had murdered step-brother Alfred who although not Great was Noble, Harthacnut was outraged; not because of blood ties but because one Earl Godwin an Anglo-Saxon earl had been implicated without being given permission. Because Godwin was powerful in his own rite; as was the custom of the times he was tried, found guilty, paid a large bribe and thus pardoned. This did not endear, Harthacnut to the people. His supporters hoping to bring back the glory days of his father Cnut (or Canute) tried rally support with the slogan “ Harthacnut is better than none’ but this did not work and so somewhat depressed Harthacnut drank a great deal and did manage to be favourable to the church. So although he died of the former he was due a good press from the latter.

At this stage there were no ‘nuts’ (pronounced ‘nutes’) left suitable to the role, thus was invited Edward, son of Aethelred The Unready to apply for the job. He appeared to have been ready.

Edward had on occasions led an exciting life having been obliged to flee to Normandy when England was overwhelmed by a wave the Danish Cnutes, some of whom had scared folk by having forkbeards (see Sweyn). In Normandy, he was convinced to try and pretend to be king by signing charters for the Normans, and even take part in an invasion but was blown off course and so couldn’t embark on the ships. For some time it was believed he survived off continental rabbits, but for the discovery of a misprint probably placed there by Danes. It was then realised he had lived on the generosity of several continental abbots and so people thought him very pious. As the last Cnut was but Hartha the man he used to be and dying BUT wanted to be seen to be going out in a religious way he therefore invited pious Edward to be king. Thus did an Anglo-Saxon and man of the House of Wessex return to be king. There was much celebration, by those who had time to celebrate.

Edward found that the House of Wessex was in such a rickety state that it was obliged to rely on the support of the Godwins who were earls who specialised in renovation, self-improvement and treachery. Edward avoided confrontation with them by saying as king he had to go to church every day to pray and make sure there was an Archbishop. If forced into being kingly he got around the thorny issues by simply picking fights with the Scots or The Welsh, which of course the English nobles approved of (unless they had made agreements with The Scots or Welsh). He also ordered assassinations of Scots or Welsh princes, kings, etc and got around this by telling someone in the church he had done it and  might be sorry. Thus he was seen as a very, very holy man became known as The Confessor for being such a good sport about admitting things.

In the later stages of his life he gave even more power to the Godwins and they naturally fought amongst themselves, as Edward confessed he didn’t know who was being loyal and who was rebellious and succumbed to confusion. Of which he promptly died on time in 1066 but not before confessing to his wife he’d quite forgotten about the heir business.

Thus was England left in a parlous position and the resulting events of 1066 will be discussed in the next seminar.

A True History of The Isles Part 14- The Nations Arise.


Sometimes…y’know it just gets you!

1.To the organisers and proponents of the Brexit farce…sorry referendum

8d8f41c1217d3007621ceda397c48ef6(That’s for failing to present the arguments in an intelligent and dignified way)

2. To the UK Labour Party

8d8f41c1217d3007621ceda397c48ef6(Hoi! You lot! The opponents are the UK government, not each!!!)

3. To the current UK Government


(That for privatising elements of the police force, justice system, NHS…and that’s for starters!!)


4.. To The Candidates of the 2016 US presidential elections

8d8f41c1217d3007621ceda397c48ef6 (People died to make democracy work in your country! Honour them and for pity’s sake act like adults!!!!!)

5. For all those who think that a pundit or personality does not have the right to express their views on a political matter



(Of course if they’d have agreed with you, then they would be a breath of fresh air wouldn’t they!!)

6. And finally to all those who think that denigrating a person by race, country, community, adult orientation, religion, creed is somehow exercising  free-speech

8d8f41c1217d3007621ceda397c48ef6  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well I can’t say that was dignified, nor eloquent, nor ennobling of my literary prowess, but……………….

I feel a heck of a lot better now.



Some Things I Was Thinking About

Never mind all that %*?! on Facebook etc, etc. Read something sensible and valuable!

A Joyful Process

Some things I was thinking about…

Can anyone tell me when words like compromise, cooperation, compassion and coordination became bad words? Can anyone tell me when “my way or the highway” became the law, rather than let’s work things out? When we decided that “working together” became “I’ll do it my way?” When our heels became so dug in that nothing can move us, no matter what? When did we become “I’m right, so you must be wrong,” rather than “let’s hear your side?” When did civil discourse (that’s plain talking to each other) hit an all-time low, when insults, personal attacks and boorish behavior became an acceptable response to disagreements?
It’s easy to see there are problems, but harder to see how solutions will come. Not “my way or else” solutions, but working partnership solutions. Not everybody is right about everything, but you’d never know it from the…

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Musical Affirmation: 10/20/2016

Read the wise words and listen to the cool music.


sunset-113193_1920“Another Park, Another Sunday” by the Doobie Brothers Released in 1974


Yes, that!

Talk about a groove that’s smooth and sincere?

A beautiful composition without a bit of pretension.

Baby, it’s nothing short of DIVINE!

Real instruments and harmonies?


That GUITAR is speaking to my heart y’all!

Peep that bass towards the end of this jam!

Lawd, it’s going all around town!


You know what’s up!

Anyway, on a serious note, from time to time I catch myself feeling a bit blah.

The kids call it “feeling some type of way.”

Basically, it’s one of those emotions that you just don’t quite have words to describe.

Well, whatsoinever (Southern Black colloquialism alert)  you decide to call it, you best believe that there’s an underlying reason for it.

Sometimes more than one 😉

I’ve found, when I take a closer look, that my mood tends to wane whenever I poke around too much in the…

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Patchwork Warriors # 40

The times of Trials…..



The captain of The Weasel of The Sea had had experience of bombarding towns and ones which bombarded back so as he swept in to for his return run he had the craft further out set on a zig-zag tack, which made his craft an even more difficult target. It was no problem really, they were just firing into the town, and no particular part. What caused him concern was a sudden swell which struck the side of his ship causing it to list to starboard, and thus sent the salvo up high arcing down.

Crashing down somewhere in the docks area.

The first thing he did was scan for two other ships in the sliver of pale on the horizon signalling the dawn and was much relieved to see them suffering with the same sea. At least no one could blame him if any of the crews were injured by the fall of shot.

“Damn funny waters,” he said to the boson.

“Very damn funny waters Captain,”


Karlyn had looked sideways at Trelli; Trelli had looked sideways at Karlyn. As if walking into a brick wall in a thick elidian fog Karlyn had been suddenly stuck for any words to goad Trelli with. No doubt the sproggle-head was simmering, but Karlyn hadn’t been able to figure out which way the whichie would jump, and when all was said and done, it didn’t do to upset the prize; she’d only get moaned at by everyone, and in the current she didn’t feel inclined for that. She should be praised for capturing a raider, and finding out the name of one of the raiding ships. There moving in a feral way Karlyn could admire came the LifeGuard and of course striding with them as if nothing dare stop him was The Custoady.

“Oi! Blondie!!” she yelled “Reinforcements!!”


“I can make out your loopy- err- tildelte- Custodian,” Norvan said “Looks like she has someone with her,”

“Can you see Beritt?” Erzns demanded; he was irritated, his eyes were not as sharp as they used to be and what with all this scraithin’ smoke and dust.


There came a chorus of shrieking indicating another flight of ordinance, this time the piercing sound did not fly overhead, but began to grow far louder.

Meradat stopped, looked upwards.

“Lord God!” he intoned.


Karlyn watched the line of men stop, apart from The Custoady, they made to scatter.


In a place of firstly thunderous tearing of the senses at the impact of the projectiles upon the building opposite and then the swept by surge of a force let loose.

Karlyn began to turn as if faced by a sudden squall of rain, time was ridiculously slow, as sharp small debris came tearing at them, towards her. The last image she was aware of was the whichie girl, hands up before her face and in one emphatic scream calling “NO!”. All swiftly obscured by The Second Hell’s worth of confusion, itself only to be shoved aside by the Third Hell of pain, and the Karlyn was lifted off her feet and thrust back down into the warehouse


Beritt had warned the raider not to move unless she said so, when the air was ripped apart by the arrival of ordinance; its hysterical cry, the crashing and roar of the destinations. The power of the impact struck her next as if she had been shoved in a tavern brawl; clouds of dust and small debris flooded in, somewhere glass was shattering while bits the flesh and bones of the warehouse were shredded loose. She made to grab at the raider, but in the storm of destruction and confusion he shook loose and scrambled out of one wrecked window leaving Beritt to spit dust, and curses.

But with no time for any more remorse or anger, Trelli was slumped against the door frame and Beritt could not see Karlyn. She squinted, swore again, poured contents from her water bottle over her face, blinked furiously, blew her nose loudly into a rag, poured some more water into eyes and blinked once more. Now she could see a dust covered prone form, head towards her, mouth open, eyes closed. NO movement.

“Oh scraith and shit!!”

Feeling very much that the Fourth Hell had settled on her shoulders, she nonetheless ordered herself to medician duties. She would have to work out just what had happened and what that all meant later on. Scrambling up all of her equipment she scuttled towards the door, now illuminated by dark flame of a nearby explosion. Trelli looked towards her, eyes streaming tears, breath coming in short gasps, managing to point at Karlyn.

“I’m not hurting,” she gasped “See to Miss Boney-Bottom,” the maidservant managed to get to her knees “I’m going to go somewhere to be sick,”

“Take this,” Beritt passed her a solid long bottle “It’s peppermint cordial. When your done up-heaving rinse out your mouth and spit. Do it three times, then take one small swallow. Make you feel better. Going to need you Trelli,”

Trelli snatched the bottle and clambered off over ruins, gasping, praying, retching, sobbing. Her hands throbbing. Good Lord God! Just what was going on?

Trying to stem her desperation that she’d not lost someone to this night of ruination Beritt forced herself into a deliberate and thorough examination of Karlyn for any breaks or wounds. At least the elidian’s breathing was regular. This was a medician’s night and no mistake. Cleaning and patching. This time right in the war’s workface too, not at the back where women medicians were usually kept by conservative types who felt they shouldn’t be exposed to the horrors of battle. Well try and deal with a raving threshing soldier after the shock has worn off and the pain is running wild and you may be having to saw off a limb too!

“Ohh, I died an’ gone to the Good Lord Gawd’s abode an’ he sent me my own angel,”

Karlyn was awake and smiling up at Beritt. Beritt was for checking her senses, smiling didn’t count. Lots of men wandered battlefields smiling, before they fell down dead, or started to scream.

“How many fingers am I holding up Karlyn?”

“Seventy-five..an’ an ‘arf,”

“Oh ferr crying out loud!!”

“Aww you’re fun to tease Blondie. Your little face goes all so stern and your nose crinkles,”

“How many scraithin’ fingers!!”

“How many do you normally use?”

“Second Hell!! You’re obviously no more crocked than you normally are, Now sit up and let me clean that head scratch. Midden! You were lucky! Look at all this fribbin’ rubble, and only a head scratch!!”

The two young women looked across to the hillocks of stone, flames spouting out, smokes seeping upwards, beyond more fires raged and buildings toppled.

“Lawdgawdelpus poor sproggles. Is it always like this Blondie?”

Beritt supposed so.

“It’s war Karlyn. What else is there to expect. Now where’s our men gone?”

Karlyn looked with a sympathetic sadness at Beritt then pointed to burning ruins.

“Whole shattering midden fell right on them Blondie,”

“She’s right,” Trelli added, hoarse but determined to sound upright and sensible as she came crawling over damage.

Beritt stared, she didn’t quite know what else to do. If there was not so much flame, she’d get over there and pull rocks, stones and timbers away until she found, at least a body. But currently she did not want to see anyone cooked, half-baked, and worse still hanging onto life when there was no point to. She could not be hero; she could be soldier though. She would obey orders, as expected to. Yes, that was the way to do it. So she wiped dust, someone’s blood and dampness from her face.

“That’s settled that then,” Hold it together. Look, the girl Trelli was doing it, so would she. Be solid. Be composed. “We’re getting you, Trelli, out of here. We’re taking you to where my commanders will decide,” What? Don’t think. Get on with it “How best to help you,”

“I think my poor squished custoady, might have had other views,”

“I daresays Karlyn. But look at it this way. I’m the only one hereabouts with a definite string of orders to follow. We’ll find us a wagon, see if our horses are in good form, appropriate goods and gear for imperial purposes,” she paused, wiped her face, and looked about at a town in torment.

“And get the scraith out of here!!” Beritt raged.

“Gonna get all my stuff,” she added walking back into the warehouse.

Karlyn nudged Trelli

“Cooo, an’t she’s a fierce little den-mother?” another nudge “An’ A-ppro-pri-ate means we can steal what we like, ‘cause it’s not stealing if we’re doing for the good of the Oaky,”

She then clapped her hand to her face.

“Pooooroogah! Wot a pong! Someone’s cracked open a sewer!!”

“I can only smell peppermints,” Trelli’d resolved to stick to basic facts. She had concluded, quite correctly, it was the best way to avoid going mad.


As Karlyn announced her opinion on what she could smell; The Helmsmen and his crew gasped. A bloated, detritus encrusted shape with writhing long and hooked tentacles had broken the surface at the sapphire point. The Helmsman was about to order an immediate beaching into The World Physical and worry about the consequences later on, but the creature did not notice them, it’s limbs had reached into the places above the surface and seeming to have had them half sawn off began to haul itself out of the waters, thick glistening unhealthy greens and browns revealing a long sneering mouth of many fangs. Slowly, the whole thing began to disappear after the limbs.

“It’s crawling into the World Physical,” The Helmsman warned “The Fourth Realm is coming,”

Patchwork Warriors # 35

Patchwork Warriors # 36

Patchwork Warriors # 37

Patchwork Warriors # 38

Patchwork Warriors # 39




OK folks, that’s this part of the adventure done for the present. Now it’s time to consider the History Epic and more importantly just read what everyone else has been up to!

Patchwork Warriors # 39

Karlyn…..A force of Nature; we’re stuck with her for better or for worse….




Karlyn slouched against an alley wall, wiping her nose on her sleeve, when there no real need to do so. The sight of the town collapsing and burning under frequent detonations was only mildly distracting, she was more inclined to muse upon Blondie’s fearsome outburst of temper, Didn’t those pale blue eyes threaten to spit out lighten bolts? All so sweetly gentle, or proper, then…..Warrrooomp!! Karlyn pondered on whether that was down to military training or was she naturally ferocious and the soldierly thing had made her more disciplined?

She peered around the corner, no sign of the rest of the LifeGuard or Custoady Meradat. Had they lost each other in the chase? Maybe they were fighting raiders? Satisfied her nose was quite dry she chewed idly on a carrot purloined from the warehouse’s multiplicity of stores. There folk running this way and that, and in the confusion of flames, drifting smoke and general chaos she couldn’t make out which side they were on. She wondered if this was something the town had coming to it and it just so happened while she’d turned up. Thoughts drifting, she glanced back over her shoulder, all seemed cosy and peaceful, no doubt Blondie was playing at big sister for the little whichie, who was the one everyone should be shouting at.

A steel pointed touched her neck.

“’Ullo then. Wot we got here?”

Blaggatinian style of accent; one just midways between Lucher and Elinid. Usual trash not loyal to neither city; she sniffed.

“’Bout blimpin’ time!” she snapped at the three men; the youngest, at the back of course promptly exchanging his grin for a slack jawed surprise. “Been sat ‘ere abouts freezing off me arse-part. Skritiz, they says, get in that wobbling tawn. Sniff out the treasury an’ wait for the boys! An’ what scraithin’well happens! Some sproggle starts shooting big ‘uns at me! Just what the scraithin’ slidin’ on a stick is goin’ on! An’ wot fribbin’ ship y’ from anyhows!!”

One lumpen shaven head rumbled the word ‘treasury’ in a loving way. The youngster overwhelmed by the rapid flood of complaint piped up ‘Weasel of the Sea’ . The other lumpen, also shaven headed, but with a beard squinted suspiciously at her.

“No one told us anything ‘bout a treasury. Nor a guide. We just here to tear up a town, snatch an’ grab what we can, have us some girls and cart off a few for the slavers,” Karlyn pulled a dismissive face.

Thrust out her left arm, the concealed blade slipping into the hand and thence into the man’s throat, ignoring blood spraying over her she ducked into him with her shoulder shoving his quivering body into his companion in shaven skullness; knocking both to the ground; the youngster made to lunge at her, she lashed out with the cutlass, satisfied with the drag of steel through cloth and skin and his scream. Thus believing he was currently not a threat, with a yelp of glee, she leapt upon the other, struggling from beneath his dead comrade, she,driving a blade through his skull.

Karlyn rose, aware there was blood in her hair, across her face, on her hands. She smiled making the whole impression ghastly to the lad currently gripping a cut cross his shoulder. With hands behind her back, she daintily skipped over to him.

“You’re gonna meet a friend of mine. She’s ever so friendly, and you’re going to tell her everything you know. Or I get to play with you, some more,” and she made scissor snipping motions with the fingers of her right hand.


Face cleaned, hair efficiently brushed and a chance to tell her side of the story to the soldier, Trelli felt a slight measure more comfortable and truth be known a little excited, although she wished the latter would go away as it was bound to mess about with her judgement and in this circumstance she was sure this was dangerous.

Confirmed as a bloodstained Karlyn swaggered in dragging a terrified and wounded fellow.

“Look what I caught when fishin’” she chortled “I gutted two, they were all too greasy and bulbous to make much conversation, but this one,” she tweaked his ear “Will tell us a goodsome tale….. Wontcha?”

The young raider’s eyes were set wide and wildly upon Trelli, and his jaw worked, but no sounds came out; he managed to point at her hands. Before Beritt could make a statement of what she considered common sense and calming effect, Karlyn had grabbed him by his shirt collar her mouth, mostly her teeth to his ear.

“Yesss little fish. We captured her too,” she waved her badge of office in his face “But if you don’t talk long and proper, we might feed you to Princess Black Cat here. ‘Cas she does love the taste of a man’s-“

Beritt was wincing before Karlyn came out with the next words.

However there was an interruption.

Up shot Trelli, glowing hands to hips.

“That’s enough from you! You ‘lidian-you!! Cat indeed! My skin may not be as milky smooth as yours, but I am not any hang-around tavern Cat!! Don’t you dare sully my maidenly status!!”

Karlyn felt rousing both women to reveal they had shouty snarly sides, was a task goodly done. It was nice to know you had folk about you with fire. Knew where you stood. None of the sneaky, tweaky, slithery sorts, who’d steal the cold sausage out of your back-pack when you weren’t looking.  She shoved the captive at Blondie because Karlyn knew the little pixie was just itching to make his wound all better.

“Oh forgive me,” she oozed at Trelli “Where I come from a Cat is a smooth, swift, worker what gets what it wants anyway anywhere. Aren’t you up to that?”

Trelli’s eyes narrowed. Fear and anger can walk close together and breed rage.

As Beritt was all too aware…

“Ladies,” Beritt admonishments came parlour polite tones “We are in a very difficult situation…. Oh hold still you pest, it’s only a wincy scratch!…. Can you please bear in mind, this town in under attack, we need to…. Shush! it’s a mere cleansing salve, s’posed to sting!……be very calm, find out where my LifeGuard colleagues and Custodian Meradat…..Yep! You heard me right. You’re in a Fourth Hell of trouble….So dear ladies, can you please shut the scraith up! Calm down and go out and look for our colleagues!!”

“Oooh Lookat the big brave raider fill up his trousers!!  C’mon little whichie-woo! Let’s do as Oldest Sister tight-pants says an’ go and stand in a doorway hoping the big strong men turn up and rescue us!  We can hold-hands while we tell each other our girly-wishes!”

Naturally, since Trelli could not keep up with, much less make sense of Karlyn’s perspectives, she found herself dragged along, hoping whoever these men might be they might be authorities.


The Helmsman sudden stern call for all at their posts to prepare for evasion and possible extraction to the World Physical came as a shock, to do so would expose the Manse to many vigilant and hostile eyes. Just what would cause The Helmsman to take this risk?

There had been a sharp tear of Red and Blue not in the turbulent clouds above, but dashing just above the surface of the sea. Almost possessed of its panic and thus uncertain in which direction to go it sped back and forth with growing rapidity until it suddenly flared into a sapphire burst.

And was gone

“All concentrate upon the central fifth at the furthest quarter. Observe from your direction for another forthcoming turbulence!”

The Helmsman raised one warning finger, and his hands moved rapidly across his own display, he withdrew the Manse to the very shoreline which comprised marked the borderlines into The World Physical. His attention fixed upon the location where the sapphire eruption had taken place. The Helmsman bade his crew to keep strict observation and hold their composure such an event would not pass without ramifications.

Patchwork Warriors # 35

Patchwork Warriors # 36

Patchwork Warriors # 37

Patchwork Warriors # 38

Patchwork Warriors # 40


Patchwork Warriors # 38

And Migran has his day too

Meanwhile Trelli gets pulled two ways..


                             CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO


          Mietitore and his men crouched down in the alley with Migran, regarding him with if not quite respect at least attention.

          Migran meanwhile was venting his fear in an explosion of anger which made him feel more masculine in such company.

          “Where the Fourth Hell did you get that damn thing from? That’s the worse locator ever. Overloaded! Tell me you didn’t build it yourself for ferrkit!!”

          “No,” Mietitore’s men remained silent, that slow and careful way meant he was extemporising and this could be quite the work of art “We were sent here on a mission at short notice,” he shrugged “We are just soldiers of the Oaken Throne. We have no knowledge of these devices. Save what we are told,”

          He was also resolving to find out from Silc who was responsible for the device, and explain to them, with the aid of a knife to the throat the need to be more precise.

          “It’s blasted well careless, sending men out with those! Err, soldiers of the Oaken Throne??”

          “Yes,” Mietitore placed his hands heavily upon Mirgan’s shoulder, you needed to display a certain amount of approachability when entrapping an innocent. “Our mission here was to seek out someone displaying a certain amount of independent talent in matter of…I prefer to call it by its old name The Ethereal, although in my own land it’s known as La Rovina,”

          “How pretty,” Mietitore placed himself between Migran and the men, they were pulling collective faces at the mention of their homeland term for ‘Bane’ “It’s not easy working alone. Trying to progress. I meant no harm. Am I in trouble?”

          “Oh no, no. The Oaken Thorne takes a very sophisticated approach. The Jordisk as a group are troublemakers, but independents,” he shrugged “There are high ranking folk who appreciate such skill, but we don’t mention it to the Custodians,” Migran sniggered at the conspiratorial tone.

          “But who are destroying my town?”

          “Ah, they would be mercenaries in the pay of dangerous folk from across the Centrus. There is war-“

          “I knew it! I heard it on my device! They know about Trelli too! We must help her!!”

          Mietitore promptly focussed on two words ‘device’ and ‘her’.


          Custodian Meradat and the rest of the LifeGuard had set off in pursuit of the duo, pausing to meet up with Norvan and Merryk who having caused some unsettling of groups of pirates had withdrawn. This force was delayed twice groups of reavers, none of whom survived the encounter, but the resultant delay had them loosing track of the Beritt and Karlyn.

          The sudden illumination of unusual reds and blues left everyone in no doubt of the direction to take.


          Mietitore was being the process of smoothing Migran’s nerves with false sympathy and some genuine gratitude, when all attention of this particular huddle was drawn to a brilliance of red and blue issuing forth somewhere nearby.

          “Oh that has to be poor Trelli!”

          “Trelli? Dear Master Migran, who is this Trelli?”

          “She has been introduced to some empathy with The Ethereal! But until now it has been a very minor thing this is… this means she is in dreadful distress! We must go and help!!”

          He was a bit surprised by the sudden collective recoil of these previously stalwart men; it was not so much fear he was witnessing as very grave trepidation. There must be something about The Ethereal that highly trained men were warned about.

          “No. No, Master Migran no!” Mietitore clutched Migran by the shoulder so hard the man winced “She is beyond our help,” Migran made to object or at least ask a question but Mietitore shook him “Beyond it I tell you!” he snapped, then drew in breath again “Listen to me! We must get to your house and get your device! I assure you this is vital! Vital!! Show us the way!!”

          Migran suffering yet another shock accepted the command, for he could not find any time to think; he supposed the man must know something more than he did and thus obeyed.

          Being shoved to the fore, he did not see the men making various signs or clutch at small charms.


          Beritt was spitting angry; up to her back teeth and more some! She had this all sorted, and then Squirrel-Head had to go and could nearly have got them all killed. This girl Trelli could have gone off  ‘bang’ for all Beritt knew! Going through a whole litany of swear words, she grabbed a stunned Karlyn by the collar of her shirt, and hauled the elidian girl into a sitting position, teeth bared and face to face.

          “Happy-sliding on a stick!! I’ve seen more common sense in a line of arse-holes during worms inspection! You nearly crocked us all into a midden!! I told you we had to take it easy!! What the scraith is the matter with you!” she shook Karlyn, who bemused by the whole display shut up “Now go and do something fribbin’ useful and stand by a door and…. ohhh….scraithin’ well kill raiders!!”!

          Karlyn stood up, brushing flour off of her clothes with pantomime fastidiousness.

          “Hmmph! I will just do that. But don’t blame me, if Little Missy Sparkle Fingers fries your delicates,”

          And determined to have the last of the exchange, snatched out and pulled the brim of Beritt’s hat over her eyes, then making much of a casual stride exited, calling out.

          “Watchin’ you whichie! Don’t you try and kerflufegg Blondie there! I killed spikie-demonz y’know!!”

          Hat back in place Beritt massaged her brows and took comfort from the fact that soon she would meet up with the rest of the file and the custodian, and she would no longer have to make un-medician decisions. Meanwhile. She crouched down next to a very shocked and bothered Trelli, who was engaged on trying to find her gloves.

          “I’m sorry about her, Trelli is it?” nod. “Now, please may I help you with flour dust and any bumps or bruises; cut or scratches. My mad associate did mention a nick?”

          “That’s ‘lidian for being arrested,” Trelli “We get them through here. Always talking loud, and although you recognise the words, the meaning’s a bit obscure,” she managed a very faint smile. “But what’s going to happen to me?”

          “I’m going insist to clean off the flour dust first,” Beritt produced a clean linen square and from a long bottle poured out something Trelli could smell as part soap and part wound cleaner; the soldier’s touch was effective but gentle. “Can you moves arms, hands, legs, feet, toes?” she asked. Nod. Both women winced at the sound of flying ordinance, the resulting roar and the dull vibration. “Now we’ve been looking for someone, and I’ve found them… you. There will be some more LifeGuard, and we will look after you. You are valuable Trelli,”

          “I’d rather not be. I didn’t start anything. My Master’s son was fooling around with forbidden things, I found out and told him to stop, but he kept on and look what happened to me!!” she waggled her hands “I’d be better off he’d done what sons of households usually do to serving girls!!”

          “Don’t sound too disappointed,” Beritt tried to jest, it might help, herself too “Folk will get the wrong idea,”

          “Can’t be worse than this,” Trelli countered. “And what’s happening to my town!!”

          Beritt hated it when folk demanded of her an answer to something she had no idea about.

Patchwork Warriors # 35

Patchwork Warriors # 36

Patchwork Warriors # 37

Patchwork Warriors # 39