Tripping (closed)

[jamesoftaversal]

Who: Sir James, Allan, Emmaline
What: Sometimes a man need a little wine to get to sleep
Where: The Trip to Jerusalem Inn
When: 29th September, very late. Or very early 30th September. After a party like this one, it’s hard to tell.

Comments

[jamesoftaversal]

“What?” Sir James had been looking in the opposite direction when the man spoke and so was caught unawares. “Ah! You!” he said when he recognized the man. He slowly wagged a finger at him, up and down, struggling to remember. “You…you’re….” Sir James gave up and chuckled a little bit at himself. “I’m sorry, sir, but our paths have crossed so many times lately that I felt sure I knew your name, but now I realize we’ve never actually been introduced! Of course! Here-sit! Sit!” he said, pushing the stool toward the nominal stranger.

“I owe you a drink, friend. Or more than a drink, really. I haven’t thanked you for your help earlier. You really pulled my nuts out of the fire with that Welshman, that’s for sure. Heaven only knows what state I’d be in now if you hadn’t given me an out.” He looked up at the man in the dark doublet with a smile, but saw his guest’s expression was less than happy, though he couldn’t pin it down more than that, and heard a certain moodiness in his tone. Oh, God, please don’t let him be a sullen drunk! Sir James thought. This had been a heavy enough day. A little lightness, a little barroom philosophy…he could even handle a little (tiny! Sir James corrected himself) bit of a man-to-man heart-to-heart if it would lighten this young man’s load, but if had wanted to end this eternal day next to some brooding toady of Vaizey’s, he would have sought out Gisborne before he left the castle.

Speaking of which…. “You’re Sir Guy of Gisborne’s man, aren’t you? Or is that the young Frenchman I’ve seen you with? My page pointed out the pair of you when we were in here the other day, but he wasn’t clear about which one of you he was referring to. I’m Sir James de Molyneaux, from over in Teversal…I can’t remember if I told you that when we were last together, it seems so long ago now. God, what a night! And day! Can’t say it was as boring as I thought it would be, at least. Now, surely this place has a barmaid, even if it is late!”

[allan_of_dale]

He was welcomed fairly warmly, so that was a good sign. Sitting down into the seat that had been kicked out for him, a sudden realisation hit him. Earlier. The bloke had said earlier. Shit, had it only been this morning that they'd met? So much had happened in such a short space of time, it almost felt like months had passed since then. Allan was pretty sure he'd known the man's name this morning, but if he had, it was escaping him right now.

"No, it's me that works for Gisborne," he replied. "The french one's Lucatz, he's going home tomorrow. He was only here to...help out with the ball so he'll be back off to his master in the morning. My name's Allan. Allan a Dale. And this place has a lot of barmaids, but the ones working the late shift, well...their table service isn't normally what gets 'em the job, if you know what I'm saying. Late in the evening, blokes tend to get a bit lonely more than thirsty. You might be better off going to the bar yourself."

[jamesoftaversal]

“Eh, I’ll give it a few more minutes. I’d rather wait and tip a girl for bringing our drinks to us than brave carrying them through this crowd myself. These girls are probably better at navigating the obstacle course than me, anyway,” Sir James said.

“Oh, but please tell me this place doesn’t turn into a full-blown brothel after dark!” he added as he tried, without luck, to catch the eye of a buxom lass who was busy entertaining another table with her amble cleavage. “I mean, to each his own and all that, but I was rather hoping to get some sleep tonight, and that’s not likely if the party’s just getting started.” He turned back to Allan, “But don’t let me stop you, if that’s what you’re here for! I can go bugger off easy enough!”

He almost teased, “Though I’m surprised you didn’t get your own offer at the ball in that get up,” but decided he didn’t know the man well enough for that kind of familiarity. That said, the short-short doublet…the two-tight leggings…If I didn’t know better, I’d say Allan a Dale was advertising his wares as much as her with the tits over there is doing, Sir James thought with a twinkle. Until he realized that he, maybe, didn’t know better.

Oh.

So it’s that kind of place. Sir James felt the beginnings of a blush.

But you’re the one who said “bugger.” And “blown,” Sir James’ internal dialogue pointed out. Don’t put all the blame on him!

By this point, Sir James wasn’t sure who had propositioned whom-or, indeed, if a proposition had actually taken place-but he did know he needed to find a way to make a tactical retreat.

“I hope you didn’t lose anything in the theft this evening. Though I suppose Hood wouldn’t have targeted the staff quarters, would he?” he said with as much nonchalantness as he could muster. But he was thinking, So…is this what it means to be “Sir Guy’s man”?

OOC: Sorry about all the deletions! But that was my final edit, I promise!

[allan_of_dale]

Allan had been wondering if he shouldn't have waited for his drink at the bar, rather than leaving it for a girl to bring over. He'd gone as far as ordering it, but he wasn't quite thinking in straight lines at the moment and it hadn't really occurred to him. Still in the end it might prove for the best. When his drink got brung over, James could make his own order.

"No, no, it's not that bad," he replied, feeling a grin begin to start up. "I mean, they're not out-and-out whores, or anything, but if times get hard a lot of the girls'll take on a roll or two to boost their wages. It's just that those ones tend to blag the late shift cos business is a bit better later on for that sort of thing. But no, you're alright. I'm not here for that sort of company." Not twice in one day in the same tavern. That's just asking for trouble.

With memories of his earlier...exchange...with Archer coming back to the fore, the less pleasant and more recent thoughts of his part in the events at the castle were beginning to fade into the background of his mind, and Allan's smile surfaced properly. Accentuate the positive, and all that nonsense. But then the subject returned to Nottingham, rather than the pub, and he became a little more serious.

"No, nothing of mine of any worth's there anyway, but you're right, I doubt he'd have gone through the servant's gear. Won't do him any good to have ordinary people telling tales of getting robbed by Robin Hood. What about you? Anything missing?"

[jamesoftaversal]

Sir James picked up on a bitter tone when Allan spoke of Hood, and wondered about it, but thought he’d wait to address it until they both had a few drinks under their belts. It was easy enough for now to keep to the topics already at hand. “No, I got off without a scratch, so to speak. But then, I took some elementary precautions to keep my goods out of sight. I wasn’t thinking in terms of robber gangs at the time-more like not wanting to put temptation in the way of the servants-but even that didn’t seem to occur to the rest of the people on my corridor. They almost deserved to be robbed! I hope those twits aren’t representative of what’s become of the aristocracy since I’ve been away. If they are…well, I despair for my country, that’s all I can say.”

Ah, look! We’ve been noticed!” The barmaid at the nearby table flashed a smile and her tits in their direction and headed over. “Wine!” he said when he got there. “Two tankards! That alright with you?” Sir James asked Allan. Allan nodded, but Sir James wasn’t sure if he was nodding to him about the wine or to the barmaid. The two seemed to know each other, and while the girl seemed perfectly polite and attentive to him, there was something else-something more familiar-going on between her and Allan. Well, I guess I was wrong which way he turns, Sir James thought. He unconsciously relaxed a bit, glad to be back on more familiar ground.

He was also full of that nice sensation that comes when one is proven right and all those around one are proven wrong, to one’s material benefit. It was probably a sin to gloat that he, who didn’t even have a room to sleep in that night, had a full purse when all the toffs back at the castle were still tallying their losses, but it wasn’t like he had taken advantage of them or anything, and besides, it was a feeling that came along so seldom he thought he’d enjoy it while it lasted. It made him magnanimous.

“I tell you what, love…go ahead and bring a jug-a large one-with the tankards. It’ll keep you from having to run back and forth too much. We’ll let you know if we need a refill.” Sir James placed a copper in the girl’s hand. “But…” he added, as he closed her fingers around the coin. “Tell the landlord I want real wine, not the cheap stuff he passes off as wine to the unknowing. No water, no…anything else in it. I’ve been drinking weak piss water all night long and I came here for a proper drink. And I’m willing to pay a little extra for the privilege-I’ll let you work out with the barkeep how best to do it. But I’ll be…disappointed…if you bring back some diluted crap, my dear.” He spoke very seriously and looked her full in the eye as he did so, and placed his other hand beneath hers so that he was clasping hers in both of his. He gave it a bit of a squeeze and shake to drive the point home. “Most disappointed.”

The girl giggled and made a little bob, and winked at Allan, who grinned back. And kept grinning as he studied the rear view of the girl walking away. Sir James noticed Allan’s reaction and had to smile himself. “Allan, my young friend,” he said, “Live long enough and you, too, will reach the point where you care more about quality than quantity when it comes to women. And that girl….She’s one for the ‘quantity’ category. Definitely. Quantity.”

[jamesoftaversal]

OOC: Meant to add: Godmodded with permission.

[allan_of_dale]

Allan snorted. "There's a lot of people as don't think past putting their stuff where they won't forget about it. You'd be amazed how much stuff some'll leave in an unguarded place out in full view." Sometimes you could see purses and jewellery through the bloody window of manor houses for Christ's sake! James was on the right track, but people like that didn't just deserve to get robbed; they were bloody asking for it.

Violet had spotted them and was making her way over with her best grin on. Almost automatically he grinned devilishly back at her, raising an eyebrow and sucking in his cheeks. She looked a little bit pleased with herself, and after a few moments Allan realised why. James was asking after his drink so he nodded back briefly in agreement before addressing their new companion. "Alright, girl?" he asked, cheering up a bit more now he had someone to charm; "treated yourself to a new dress for Michaelmas, is it? I would caution you against splashing out, but it can't have cost you much. Barely a quarter bolt in it, surely?"

She stuck her tongue out in reply, but didn't get a chance to snipe back before James had distracted her with money so he pretty much got away with it. It was
interesting how taken Violet seemed with James, though. Maybe she had a thing for commanding older men. Better keep her away from Guy then, for his own sake as well as hers.

Once Violet had sashayed away and got too far away for her to be worth watching, he grinned back at James again. "Yeah, I've heard it told that way. But practice makes perfect, and then you get quality and quantity. And that girl is as well-practiced as they come...as it were."

[jamesoftaversal]

Sir James couldn’t help but snort out a laugh at that. “You know, I realized I had misspoken as soon as the words were out my mouth!” he said once he had recovered sufficiently.

After catching his breath, he continued. “What I mean is…sex is like music. Technique’s not enough; you need heart to make it good.” He had a feeling he still wasn’t making himself clear, so he started over.

“Look. It’s a long ride from Palestine to England, and I had a lot of time to think about things like this, and how to best live my life now that I’m away from the wars. And one of the conclusions I came to is that you only get quality from someone you really know, and trust, and who knows and trusts you. It doesn’t have to be true love, necessarily, but….You wanna know about the best I ever had? There was this girl… woman, really, a widow and all. I’d do everything I could just to make time to talk with her, if you can imagine that. But of course we did more than talk. We spent whole days in bed together. Days! We’d get positively lost in it! But if you asked me to describe what we did….” He shrugged. “Well, to be honest, her technique was plain as custard. No fancy tricks up her sleeve, or up anything else, for that matter.

Now compare that with the whores in Constantinople.…”

But Violet was approaching and Sir James thought it best not to talk of these matters in front of her. She put the tray with two tankards and a jug full of dark liquid down and turned to go. “Ah ah ah!” Sir James said, catching her by the arm. He used his other hand to poured a little of the wine into one of the cups and tasted it. It took some effort to keep from sputtering, even though he knew better than to expect decent wine at a tavern like this. But at least the plonk was strong, which is all he had asked for, so he maintained his composure and gave Violet a brief nod before letting her go and filling the tankards for both Allan and himself. He gulped down some of his wine, reasoning that if he drank it fast enough, he wouldn’t have to taste it.

“Now, I expect you’ve heard stories about them, even up here in Nottingham. And every word is true.” Sir James shook his head, still in wonder at the memory. “I didn’t know women would do things like that-I didn’t know they could do some of it!” He sighed. “But you know what happened before too long? I got bored! It actually scared me a little, because what kind of man gets bored with something like that? But it was all wham, bam, thank-you-ma’am, what-can-we-to-do-with-this-here-then. No heart.” He topped off his tankard, and Allan’s, too.

“Now I don’t doubt your Violet is a nice girl. She might even be sweet enough on you to let you kiss her. But as skilled as she is, don’t you think it’d be even better if she could relax instead of worrying about what you’ll do if you get her up the duff? And if you didn’t have this question in the back of your mind the whole time you’re fucking her about how you compare with all her other blokes? (Because I know you do-we all do.)”

Sir James concluded, “So here’s my resolution: no more whores, no more tavern girls, no more dallying with maidservants.... Hold out for the quality.” He slapped the tabletop for emphasis. “If I just have to get my rocks off, I can take care of that on my own. Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m going all celibate, either-I know myself too well to think I can stick to that. But…how about this? I’m going to try my best not to bed a woman unless I can tolerate the possibility of marrying her if I have to. What do you think?”

[allan_of_dale]

Allan could think of a few other ways sex was like music.

Stick to the rhythm no matter what and it'll all turn out ok...Don't rush to the finish because you're both supposed to be done at the same time...some people like it exotic and some people like it folky, but keep it somewhere in the middle and you've got a chance of satisfying either preference...that was the good thing about these sorts of comparisons. Lent you the opportunity for some pretty good lines.

He couldn't deny that you tended to get better sex off of girls that knew you and trusted you...for a start they'd let you get away with some of the fruitier stuff if they thought you could keep your gob shut about it. But that was exactly when they started getting clingy, and jealous, and despite the fact that they'd recieved your tales of former daring conquests with giggling and plenty of wide-eyed encouragement before, suddenly it became all 'and did she have better tits than me, then?' and 'so do you usually go round constantly looking for the next lay?'

AND; oh God's teeth, and then when you said something sensible like 'well that's how I found you, wasn't it?' or 'well yeah, but you've get a better arse,' you'd get the shrieking, and the breast-beating and the 'you'll never change, Allan a Dale,' - as if he'd promised to in the first place! What was it about women that made them use your full name when they were cross with you? Sometimes you had to trade good sex for an easy life. He perked up a bit when James said 'whores' and speak of the Devil, but Violet popped up then, as if summoned by magic. Allan giggled. James had clammed up, but Allan didn't doubt for a second that given the chance she wouldn't eagerly join in the conversation.

And James, well...Allan wasn't sure if James was flirting on purpose, but with a girl like Violet and a manner like that, if he wasn't careful he might end up with a companion at the end of the night after all. Still, once the knight was satisfied with the wine she melted away again fairly fast. Business was booming and no doubt Tom had pressed upon her the importance of not dallying with customers while there were still drinks to be served and sold.

He tasted his cup experimentally and tried not to cough. Tasted like the vinegar you got pickled cockles in at the stalls on the bank of the Thames. He sighed. There weren't many places he missed, but sometimes he even caught himself calling Battersea 'home'. He definitely needed to drink more. James was, in the end, disappointingly vague on what the whores of Constansomething actually did that was so special, but that was always something he could revisit a little later. And then maybe he and Violet could spend an instructive evening or two trying it out, whatever it was.

James had given him a top-up, and it seemed rude not to thank him by drinking some of it, but he couldn't help laughing when James mentioned the risk of her falling with child. "There's ways around it, if you know them," he replied. "Most whores know it - or at least the succesful ones do; the ones that keep their figures and don't have to worry about extra mouths to feed. It's an old wives' remedy; almost never fails. If a girl misses her courses, cup of pennyroyal tea sorts her out a treat. I dread to think what it does to the rest of your insides, but it's better than the alternative. But...yeah, I suppose so. If you only lie with woman you'd marry, nothing can go wrong, right?"

[jamesoftaversal]

“Yeah, well, you can’t count on those tricks always working. And that pennyroyal stuff…you’re right about it doing a number on your insides-I learned that in my hospital work. And I even knew it to be the death of a girl once. So I can’t blame ‘em if they’re reluctant to use it.”

Sir James spoke, somewhat mechanically, as he watched Violet flounce around. Good Lord, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a woman jiggle so! he thought. And yet, it had no effect on him whatsoever; he noted, with some melancholy, that his was an almost academic interest. He had meant what he said about wanting to steer clear of cheap encounters, but still…. Maybe I’m just getting old, he inwardly sighed.

Or maybe I’ve just raised my standards. Lady Marian had pretty much the same materials to work with as Violet here, but she presented them better-much more genteelly-and she certainly had an effect!

Out loud he said, “You know, I always used to laugh when they talked about men the age I am now being ‘in the prime of life.’ But now I know what they mean. It means you can still get it up when you want to, but you’re old enough that you’re not being led around by your own dick anymore. Take your lovely Lady Marion. I was actually able to hold a decent conversation with her this evening, and I don’t know that I could have done that twenty years ago without embarrassing myself.

Speaking of whom…she’s had a hard time of it lately, hasn’t she? First all this stuff with her betrothal to Locksley and Locksley turning into Hood, then her house burns, and now her father’s in the cells. What’s the real story there? Especially about her and Gisborne. I assume he’s running Knighton now, same as Locksley.” (He resisted the immediate urge to say “taken over” instead of “running,” but he expected that was effectively what Gisborne had done.) “Are they betrothed or what? I don’t mean for you to talk out of turn or get yourself in trouble or anything, but there’s a lot of gossip about those two floating around, and I thought you could to set the record straight. I even heard tonight that Gisborne’s the one who torched the manor house!” Sir James was indeed curious about all of that, but he looked closely enough at Allan that he hoped Allan might take the hint and tell him even more…particularly about how he and the Lady Marian came to be in a position to argue like equals at the ball tonight.

[allan_of_dale]

Allan looked sidelong at James, a little nervously. "Really? It dunt always work?" Oh dear, a little voice inside his head murmured. Why on Earth its language was so mild at such a worrying prospect he had no idea, but it kept chasing itself round his head: Oh dear; oh dear; oh dear. Probably no need to get so worked up about it now though; after all, the remedy had saved his forced ejection from town enough times in the past...or delayed it for a month or so until the next one fell in trouble, at any rate. It might not work all the time; not like every single time, but it had to be fairly reliable else no-one would of ever heard about it in the first place, he soothed himself. Sounded a bit worrying that some girl had died of it, but he knew of more than one woman who'd died on account of birthing too, so it had probably saved more lives than it had taken, his own most likely included.

Allan grinned. Now he had an exceeding obscene image of him and Violet and a length of hopefully soft rope that was probably not for the sharing. "I'm not sure exactly what's so bad about being led about by your dick as long as you're a fast talker and a quick runner, but I suppose I can see where you're coming from," he answered, somewhat distractedly. Take the lovely Lady Marian? He wouldn't deny he'd given it some thought in the past but he had little chance these days; she'd been replaced by the grumpy Lady Marian. Allan hadn't seen the softer side of her in a good long while. Let her get to know you too well and you won't be able to hold a decent conversation with her in the future, either. It'll be all about what you done wrong last and exactly why she knows better, he thought bitterly. And a hard time? Pfft. If that was what passed for a hard time among nobles, then he couldn't wait till Guy rewarded him with a title. Fair enough, her house had burned down, but it wasn't like she'd had to live on the streets. Now she lived in the castle for crying out loud! Had to be better than that crumbly old manor house.

He cocked his head on one side. James had done a fair amount of snooping, it seemed. Sounded like he'd pretty much heard it all already. Allan wondered exactly why the man was so interested in Marian's history, and how he'd uncovered so much so fast. "First of all, I gotta say, if you've got eyes for her you are best off forgetting it. Very fast. She's promised herself to Guy and believe you me, he does not take kindly to competition." He was on dodgy ground here. James seemed normal enough but Allan knew from experience that some of the barmaids in this place were in Guy's pocket. He didn't know how far that arrangement extended but he wasn't of a mind to find out. On the off chance that one of the girls had a mind to start reporting on him - or worse, had been told to - he'd be a smarter man to be delicate about these things. "I dunno what her dad's done wrong, but he is in the dungeon. And I dunno about Knighton either, but if anyone's running it I s'pect it'd be Guy. Can't have a woman running a manor, can you? Be better off letting the villagers sort their own selves out." He paused, licking his lips and considering how best to put the rest of his answer. "And the rumours, well; I've heard 'em too. I wasn't there, and obviously Guy ain't told me nothing about it, but...I dunno. He's got a temper on him and she likes to argue, so...it could have happened. But if it didn't, I don't think Guy would be going round setting people straight, neither. It suits him to have everyone think he's dangerous - not that he isn't anyway." He'd have liked to say more; didn't see any harm in telling the truth and suspected that Guy wouldn't really, either. Wasn't as if the man would get in trouble for it...who would be able to do anything, outside of the sheriff? But it was still early days between them yet and if he was suspected of spreading round Guy's secrets like butter then that'd be pretty much it for him. Speaking about it in public was asking for trouble.

[jamesoftaversal]

“I have no interest in wooing, winning, or wedding Lady Marian!” Sir James said, emphatically. “Or anything else along those lines!” He leaned forward towards Allan to further stress his point. “I’ll leave it to your discretion as to how best to inform Gisborne of that, but I hope you do inform him, if need be. Your description of Gisborne pretty much matches my impression of him, and the last thing I need is him calling me out from misplaced jealousy. I can hold my own in a fight, but he’s younger and angrier than I am, which would put me at a double disadvantage, so I’d rather the thought didn’t even enter his head.”

Sir James relaxed a bit more. “That’s not to say I’m not interested in wooing and wedding at all. I’m more and more inclined that way the longer I’m in England. But that gets back to what I was saying about not being led around by my dick any more. A lot of men my age want a fresh young bride, forgetting she’s not going to be fresh and young for long and that no girl like that is going to marry a coot like them without putting up a fight. But if I’m going to sign up for life with a woman, it’s not going to be with some girl young enough to be my daughter, like Lady Marian. I want it to be with someone a bit older, one who’s seen something of the world, so we’ve got enough in common that we can bear each other’s company after the honeymoon’s over. Double points in her favor if she’s ever been to the Holy Land.” He chuckled a bit. “I rather doubt I’ll find such a creature here in Nottingham, but you never know.

“Of course, I’ll own that I would like to get to know Lady Marian better, as a friend and as a neighbor. I think I told her as much tonight. She certainly has…qualities. And from our conversation, I’d say we share certain …concerns. Yes, ‘concerns’-that’s the best way to put it. Concerns I don’t think Gisborne appreciates, I’m sorry to say.” Sir James sipped some more of his wine, and went pensive. Not for the first time that night, it occurred to him that he, Lady Marian, the notorious Night Watchman, and Robin Hood all held to the same underlying Christian values, though they had different methods of approach. And that it appeared they were the only ones who held to those values around here, and now one of the four-Hood-was in the dungeon, presumably awaiting execution.

He continued, more quietly. “I’ve been gone a while and I’m unsure about the law. Do you know, will Hood stand trial, being an outlaw and all? Or will Vaizey just do a summary execution in the morning? Presuming he lives till morning.”

[allan_of_dale]

Allan grinned. "Yeah, no worries. If I hear anything about suspicions in your direction, I won't hesitate to put him straight." And if he actually listens to me and believes it, so much the better. Allan didn't see any point in unduly worrying James by hinting exactly how little influence he had over Guy so he let the matter stand at that. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

He nodded sagely when James started talking about big age gaps in marriages. Allan was well aware of the pitfalls experienced by older men who chose pretty young wives. It didn't have to be a massive problem. Some young women had certain...drives that older husbands couldn't keep up with, but if certain parties could be reasonably discreet about certain things, there were ways to aid the situation. In a way, you were helping both parties, really. Practically a public service that he'd provided.

"So what's so special about having gone to the Holy Land then? Is it to do with what them foreign hookers can do?" he asked, still powerfully curious about what the knight had hinted at earlier.

Allan's eyebrow raised a bit when James talked about shared concerns with Marian. And the other thing - she did indeed have a nice pair of qualities. So he probably had plenty of time for Robin's whole thing too. Maybe it'd be wiser not to mention the whole switching sides thing unless it came up. It was hardly a secret though, especially in this place. He knew James would find out about his past eventually but there was no point bringing up awkwardness he didn't actually have to.

At the question of a trial he barked a single humourless laugh. "Trial? That's a joke. There won't be no trial. He's an outlaw. If he's an outlaw, he's already guilty - of what got him outlawed in the first place. And I've got a feeling he'll definitely survive the night," albeit very uncomfortably he reflected with a soft pang to his stomach, which he did his best to quell with another mouthful of wine; "the sheriff doesn't generally like to rush his executions." Except that one time. Poor old Tom.

[jamesoftaversal]

Sir James shot his companion a baleful look. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t imply what you actually did just imply about the future Lady Teversal. God, just when I was beginning to think you had some manners….” He buried his face in his tankard, taking a good slurp of the wine. He noticed the slight tingling and numbness in his toes (and a certain disability with language) that indicated the liquor was beginning to have an effect Now the trick would be to increase this state ever so slightly, and then maintain it, without out tipping over from a pleasant tipsiness to outright drunkenness, if for no other reason than he didn’t want to ride back to Teversal on the morrow with a ripping hangover.

“You know, this wine would be half drinkable if they added some honey. And some spices…some nutmeg, maybe half a stick of cinnamon, a few cloves. And a couple of orange slices, too. (Have you ever had an orange? Splendid fruit!) And let it barely simmer for a bit,” he mused. Rejuvenated by the thought, Sir James slapped the table again and said, “But see, that’s the kind of thing a woman whose been to the Holy Land would understand! Spices! And the language. And the heat. And scorpions. Bloody hell, I’ve spent the last third of my life over there; if I’m going to spend the next third with any one woman, I’d rather it be with one whom I can hold a conversation with on a winter night without having to explain every little detail.”

A little more wine, and a refill. They were going to need to order another jug at this pace. “It sounds like the Sheriff is one of those who likes to make a big show over his executions. No surprise there, I suppose. Glad I’m going to be on the road by the time Hood hangs. I understand the need to execute criminals-don’t get me wrong about that-but I’ve never understood why anybody wants to make a celebration out of the thing. Death’s ugly, no matter the hows and whys.” Djaq’s face appeared in Sir James’ memory. “There was a Saracen woman in the gang that held me up,” he mused. “A pretty little thing. And smart, apparently; a healer, I’ve heard. Cleans up nicely, too-I saw her at the ball tonight. Lovely….” He gestured vaguely at the top of his torso, meaning to indicate her throat but possibly indicating something else instead. “I wonder what’s going to happen to her after Hood hangs? I can’t imagine she’s too happy to be here in the first place, and when her protector goes….” He sighed. “Well, frankly, Englishmen don’t have the best of reputations when it comes to the way they treat Saracen women. There's a reason they hate us over there.”

[allan_of_dale]

Allan raised his hands, palm outwards, towards the older knight, completely failing to keep a straight face. "Hey, I weren't implying nothing. I was just wondering if all Turk women are good in the sack. Any assumptions you make about what I meant aren't my fault. It's your dirty mind that's the problem. I dunno, maybe if you didn't frequent fallen women so often you wouldn't have jumped to that conclusion." He'd started speaking with just a little smirk, but it got stronger the longer he went on and by the time he was finished it was a full-blown grin. Despite James' social rank, he seemed to be a pretty ok kind of guy; more the Lucatz class of knight, rather than a Gisborne. Allan was pretty certain he wouldn't take it the wrong way. "And why is everyone suddenly so obsessed with my manners, anyway? I ain't talked of nothing that you didn't bring up."

He cocked his head on one side as James started waxing lyrical about cooking his wine. "People do that for when they're ill, I thought," he commented. "It's medicinal, or something like that. And no, I never even heard of a norange, let alone eaten one. What's it like?"

Curiosity aside, Allan wasn't really one for fruit and veg and stuff. Aside from the fact it tended to come in little pieces and so was much harder to steal compared with, say, a chicken or a leg of lamb, it just wasn't...substantial enough. A meal of vegetables left him hungry again after hardly any time at all. If you needed bread and meat to supplement eating veg, why bother with it? Why not just stick to bread and meat?

"Oh yeah, and something else too. Don't expect all saracen women to be good in the kitchen, and all. Just cos she's pretty and dusky don't mean she knows her way around a roast rabbit." He shuddered in remembrance at a couple of Djaq's...experiments when Much had been off and busy. Through the twinge of definitely not regret, he tried to console himself with the fact that all the meals he ate from now on would be prepared by people good enough to be employed for the purpose. No more black on the outside, pink on the inside chicken for him.

Christ, James was full of interesting words. "Wossa scorpion, then?" he asked, dredging his mind for what he expected the answer to be, and coming up blank. Could be another kind of fruit, could be a sort of saracen bedroom furniture for all he knew. He was vaguely impressed on how long James had stuck it out over there, even though he had no idea how much a third of the man's life amounted to; sounded like it was a fairly considerable time. He didn't remember hearing about James having a run-in with the outlaws though. He sniffed, resisting the urge to pout by taking another mouthful of wine and trying not to pull a face at the strong taste. "So you got rolled by Robin's gang, yeah? Did they do that thing where they tell you their little deal in a really annoying way and everyone says, like, one sentence each, as if they're kids acting out a play on a saint's day?" God, that had been so embarrassing. It seemed like everyone else had been really into it; something about showing they were all Robin Hood or some touchy-feely nonsense. Sourly, he recalled that although there were things that he half-missed about the forest, he'd always been something of an odd man out there, and there was a good list of things he was glad to be done with. That in itself made him feel a bit better about what he'd actually done tonight.

[Ooc- sorry, two part comment. Stupid lj]

[allan_of_dale]

Allan sat up straight, a little shocked as James spoke on. "Look mate, think about what you're saying. She does have lovely..." he copied James' cupping of imaginary tits, "...but you can't go round saying 'oh yeah, and I saw one of Robin Hood's gang at the ball, but I didn't bother telling no-one even though I knew she was an outlaw'. To be honest, I got a little soft spot for that one myself, but you say what you just said to pretty much anyone else from the castle and you'll find the sheriff suddenly very interested in the company you keep. Even 'consorting' - whatever that means - with outlaws is supposed to be a hanging offence round here. If you spotted one and didn't dob them in, well...you're a sympathiser then, ain't you? And don't lose too much sleep over her fate; she's like a bloody cat. Always lands on her feet and got nine bloody lives. Of all of the gang, I reckon Djaq'll be the one that does best without Robin." Whether or not that time of proof turned out to be now. Talking about the gang like this was making him think about the actual likelihood of Robin facing the rope. Like he'd said to Marian during their brief but blazing row, rescue attempts weren't exactly uncommon. They didn't usually go quite as smooth if Robin wasn't actually involved, but he knew he'd be far less than surprised if tomorrow morning the dungeons came up empty of a certain overconfident ex-Earl. That thought brought up a whole confusing tangle of feelings that was almost impossible to separate. Allan knew in his head that he was against Robin now, and he certainly didn't like to lose. But...it was hard to turn a friendship into hate overnight, and despite any number of differences, Robin had been his friend, of a sort. Just a friend who'd disapproved of a few things he'd thought and done; would have disapproved of a hell of a lot more had he known about, but Allan was smart enough to keep his mouth shut about certain things.

Bloody hell, could he not think of anything else tonight? In effort to distract himself from his recent past, he turned the conversation back to the other topic the knight seemed so interesting.

"So if you spent so long in the Holy Land, you must have gone there way before the war started. So what the hell possessed you to go there?"