"What is this?" Grandmaster Meiltung bellowed from the porch. He was dressed only in his trousers and boots, but had his broadsword in his hands. Bards edged back from this spector of steel and anger -- no one ever woke Meiltung or summoned him from his chamber without hesitation -- but kept their gaze on Guerney's soldiers.
Ever prudent, Master Mrlin snatched up his harp and dashed inside with it.
Master Iving spoke mildly. "I believe this good man has a matter to lay on the steps."
"Out with it, then." The Grandmaster flourished his blade, showing great strength with the heavy weapon.
With great condescension, Lord Guerney lowered his blade. "I want my daughter. She is betrothed to Lord Reinard, but a week ago she ran off with this Bard. He has no right to her, and I demand that he tell me where she is."
The Grandmaster replied coldly. "You ask for our help in a matter concerning Lord Reinard?"
Charles kept his face blank, emotionless. He was a good man.
Lord Guerney frowned darkly. "I ask for justice. Surely a man as great as you are would not deny me that. Return my daughter!"
The Grandmaster looked as if he would be happy to deny anything to anyone.
"With a Bard's bastard in her belly!" the dark-haired troublemaking journeyman shouted out. "She'll take that as a wedding gift to her husband!"
"Sieg, Sieg," muttered Master Iving, with a shake of his head.
Hardly anyone else noticed that Lord Guerney seemed neither surprised nor dismayed by the outburst.
The Grandmaster face darkened. "I will not betray one of my own to salve your pride. Leave us.
Lord Guerney raised his sword again. "What you won't give-- I'll take."
Monday, November 16, 2009
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