Weather: A fresh burst of summer seems to have come today, with temperatures rising significantly throughout the day, even if the morning begins somewhat chilly. Cloud cover at night blocks out the stars.
Events
LM: Missa
EA: Glorious [mock] Battle!
EA: Wine and Wit in King William's Reserves
EA: Wine and Wit in King Richard's Reserves
LN: What Dreams May Come
Day 8--Sunday, the Tenth Day of September
Day 8--Sunday, the Tenth Day of September
Gm * Man of Angles * Sionnach * Scealai *
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,/Every poem an epitaph. And any action/Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat/Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:/See, they depart, and we go with them./We are born with the dead:/See, they return, and bring us with them./The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree/Are of equal duration. A people without history/Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern/Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails/On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel/History is now and England --Eliot, Little Gidding
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,/Every poem an epitaph. And any action/Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat/Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:/See, they depart, and we go with them./We are born with the dead:/See, they return, and bring us with them./The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree/Are of equal duration. A people without history/Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern/Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails/On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel/History is now and England --Eliot, Little Gidding
Re: Day 8--Sunday, the Tenth Day of September
Rumors
I hear Richard Redvers has already built a boat for the King's Regatta, and is having it floated up-river to take part.
Ah, have you seen it?
Yes! A true Carrisbrooke boat, and no mistake. No great ship, mind, but a fast riverboat, to be sure.
Yeah, the Lord of the Channel was always the guy to beat.
I heard that Yarchi...
Who?
You know, the one with the ruby lips and snow-white...
Yeah, we know what she's got snow-white, same thing all beautiful women got.
Right, but she's caught the Queen's attention.
How'd she do that?
Well, Queen's got herself a soft-spot for the Welsh guy, right. Yarchi's backin' him for the tournament.
What?
Yeah, and apparently all from the goodness of her heart.
All that beauty, and to be generous on top of it? Amazing, and rare in these troubled times.
Amen to that!
Hey, have you noticed how Richard's eyes follow William de Ferrers around the room?
Can't say I have, but he's the richest man in England, or could be if guys would stop robbing...
No, not the Earl! The heir! King Richard can't take his eyes off him.
Look, he made his confession, I don't see why you'd assume...
Yeah, and I confessed about lifting my Aunt Madge's pasties right off the windowsill, but sure as shit I was doin' it again the next month.
Not all of us are as depraved as the Pasty Bandit.
Who do you think's gonna win the melee? Tournemine? Whitehands?
Maybe it'll be Aethelwulf! A good English Knight for a good English day, huh?
You're all dreaming, it'll be William de Mandeville.
No one's beat King Richard, exceptin' the Marshal. It'll be Richard today, for sure!
Richard's never fought Mandeville before. I'd watch out, if I were him.
I hear Richard Redvers has already built a boat for the King's Regatta, and is having it floated up-river to take part.
Ah, have you seen it?
Yes! A true Carrisbrooke boat, and no mistake. No great ship, mind, but a fast riverboat, to be sure.
Yeah, the Lord of the Channel was always the guy to beat.
I heard that Yarchi...
Who?
You know, the one with the ruby lips and snow-white...
Yeah, we know what she's got snow-white, same thing all beautiful women got.
Right, but she's caught the Queen's attention.
How'd she do that?
Well, Queen's got herself a soft-spot for the Welsh guy, right. Yarchi's backin' him for the tournament.
What?
Yeah, and apparently all from the goodness of her heart.
All that beauty, and to be generous on top of it? Amazing, and rare in these troubled times.
Amen to that!
Hey, have you noticed how Richard's eyes follow William de Ferrers around the room?
Can't say I have, but he's the richest man in England, or could be if guys would stop robbing...
No, not the Earl! The heir! King Richard can't take his eyes off him.
Look, he made his confession, I don't see why you'd assume...
Yeah, and I confessed about lifting my Aunt Madge's pasties right off the windowsill, but sure as shit I was doin' it again the next month.
Not all of us are as depraved as the Pasty Bandit.
Who do you think's gonna win the melee? Tournemine? Whitehands?
Maybe it'll be Aethelwulf! A good English Knight for a good English day, huh?
You're all dreaming, it'll be William de Mandeville.
No one's beat King Richard, exceptin' the Marshal. It'll be Richard today, for sure!
Richard's never fought Mandeville before. I'd watch out, if I were him.
Gm * Man of Angles * Sionnach * Scealai *
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,/Every poem an epitaph. And any action/Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat/Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:/See, they depart, and we go with them./We are born with the dead:/See, they return, and bring us with them./The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree/Are of equal duration. A people without history/Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern/Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails/On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel/History is now and England --Eliot, Little Gidding
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,/Every poem an epitaph. And any action/Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat/Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:/See, they depart, and we go with them./We are born with the dead:/See, they return, and bring us with them./The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree/Are of equal duration. A people without history/Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern/Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails/On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel/History is now and England --Eliot, Little Gidding