| This is the second episode of Savaric. The story | | | | "My Liege, I believe you have need of me?" Rufus |
| is fictional, but I've attempted to keep all dates | | | | stood toe to toe with him and looked up into his |
| and actual historical facts accurate. | | | | face. |
| It was wicked cold. The frost lay thick on the | | | | "You hear? You hear? By God and Lucca, the |
| ground and over every tree and bush. The | | | | whole of Gloucester knows I require you." |
| raggedy boy ran before the four knights along | | | | "My Liege, your pardon. I was--" The king flapped |
| the river bank, pointing, and fearfully looking over | | | | his hands. |
| his shoulder as the warriors followed him, their | | | | "Enough, enough. It's enough that you're here now. |
| horses' hoofs just missing his heels. | | | | Have you heard about the latest knight to be |
| Finally, he sprinted ahead, stopped and indicated a | | | | found murdered?" |
| spot where another knight lay, his hauberk | | | | "No, Your Majesty, I--" |
| covered in frost. A bodkin arrow protruded from | | | | "By the holy face of Lucca, what's to be done? I |
| his chest, a killer's arrow, and now he was rigid | | | | rely on you, Ranulf. You give me peace with your |
| with the stiffness of death and the fierce cold. | | | | ideas for solutions to my troubles." |
| The knights dismounted and because they were | | | | "And, My Liege, so I can in these dark times," |
| unable to drape him across a saddle, they placed | | | | Ranulf spoke soothingly. |
| him like a plank over two horses. One of them | | | | He and Rufus walked together back to the throne |
| slung a coin at the raggedy boy, who pounced | | | | set on a high dais at the end of the room. "My |
| upon it like a beast on a piece of food. Then they | | | | Liege, there is one man to whom we may turn. |
| made their way slowly back to Gloucester Castle. | | | | His name is Savaric of the Witney Hundred. His |
| William Rufus, by the Grace of God, King of all | | | | father, Engaram, was thought of most highly by |
| England and the Isles, was in a devil's mood. He | | | | the great Conqueror, My Liege. He was with your |
| stormed up and down the Great Hall, kicking at | | | | father at Hastings and was in the front rank |
| the fragrant rushes which covered the floor and | | | | when the shield wall broke. He married a Saxon |
| at any unfortunate dog that happened to be in his | | | | woman, Gundrea, who's father was Thegn of |
| way. His normally red face was ruddier than ever. | | | | Birkenhyde, a royal thegn, one of Harold's |
| A great wolf hound veered into his path and | | | | huscarls." |
| Rufus kicked at it, hurting his foot a great deal | | | | They'd reached Rufus' throne by this time. Rufus |
| more than the dog. His soft leather boots had the | | | | took his seat and Ranulf stood beside him. |
| fashionably curled toes, and this made his temper | | | | "Now I know of whom you speak," Rufus said, |
| even worse, were that possible. | | | | raising his hand. "Yes indeed, a great warrior. But |
| "Four knights now," he bellowed. "Four. And does | | | | his son took the Cross, did he not? He's on the |
| anyone know the murderer, I ask? No. No-one. | | | | great Pilgrimage." |
| By Lucca, but the murdrum fine will lay heavy on | | | | "Lately returned, my Liege, and seeks audience |
| the district. And where's my Lord Ranulf when I | | | | with Your Majesty. These murders, my King, are |
| want him?" He was standing in the middle of the | | | | committed by Saxon arrows. Savaric, through his |
| room now, hands on hips, his belly protruding, | | | | mother's tutelage, is fluent in the Saxon tongue. |
| broad shoulders hunched. "Where is my chaplain | | | | No-one knows the area better. He is the man we |
| when I need him?" he screamed. | | | | want, Your Majesty." |
| A group of little pages rushed from the room to | | | | The king rose and laid a hand on Ranulf's shoulder. |
| find Ranulf Flambard, pleased to be able to absent | | | | "Didn't I say that you belittle all my troubles? |
| themselves from their king's wrath. Rufus | | | | Once again, my Ranulf, you have poured balm |
| continued his march up and down the hall, waving | | | | onto my wounded mind." |
| his arms about and cursing fluently. | | | | "'Tis the least I can do, my Liege," murmured the |
| Finally, a tall, distinguished looking man swept into | | | | cleric. |
| the king's presence, his scarlet cloak billowing out | | | | "Off now and find you this Savaric. We will have |
| behind him. He was a handsome man, above | | | | words with him and he will help us evolve a plan |
| middle height, with a strange protuberance at the | | | | to capture this slayer of my knights." |
| back of his head. He strode right up to the king. | | | | Ranulf bowed and made his departure. |