16 September: In Memoriam
Who: Vaizey; Ivarr, Earl of Caerleon (npc); mention of Lucatz
What: Davina's son has dinner with his uncle
Where: Nottingham Castle, Sheriff's Quarters
When: 16 September, evening
Vaizey perused the letter left in his trust by Sir Lucatz. "Trust," now there was a silly word. People thought it was so important, but the truth of the matter was that you couldn't trust anyone in the end. Even your own blood kin often failed you.
But not Davina; she had never once let him down.
Bah. Pushing the thought from his mind, Vaizey refolded the odd missive, then walked over to the painting which concealed a hiding place in the wall beside his bed. He could read about ten percent of the knight's letter, in its strange mix of languages. Burning it would likely be the easiest thing to do, and somehow poetic, since its ashes would mingle with those of the missive from his master. But he would rather know what it was the boy had attempted to say to William the younger, and would therefore have it translated soon. He was probably asking if Vaizey's story was true, and asking what he should do.
What he should do was obey the orders he was given, but no matter. As usual, everything was in hand.
Vaizey had just replaced the picture when there was a knock on the door.
"Enter," he called, moving over to his birdcages.
A young man walked in, robust and dark-haired like his father, tall and blue-eyed like his mother.
"Ivarr, Earl of Caerleon," one of the guards announced.
"Uncle," Ivarr greeted Vaizey, his smile tight but genuine.
Gesturing to the table where a sumptuous dinner had been laid out, the sheriff replied, "Ivarr. Good of you to come all this way. Please, sit."
"Thank you." Ivarr waited until Vaizey had gone to his own chair, and then took the seat allocated for him. He had flawless manners; Davina had hired strict nursemaids and tutors, anyone to keep the boy occupied and where she wouldn't have to look at him until he was an adult. Vaizey didn't share her loathing of children, and had looked in on him occasionally. Granted, he'd been fairly uninteresting for the first few years, as were all youngsters. But he'd become more entertaining with age, and had accompanied his uncle on an outing every now and then. Vaizey had taken the opportunities to teach Ivarr what was really important, and what could be ignored in life.
Clearly, some of his lessons had been forgotten. The wife that Ivarr had brought with him on this visit made that obvious, and what was worse was that had spoken of her with affection in the letter he'd sent, accepting his invitation to the party.
Well, nobody was perfect, and there was that father of his, exerting influences, as well. He hadn't been an easy man, the previous Caerleon, but he certainly did a good imitation of one when presented with a son so late in life. Maxwell had spoilt Ivarr more than Davina ever knew; Vaizey had felt that it would be prudent not to fill her in, so that she didn't tip her hand too soon and do something brash.
But the past was just that, and now there was the present to contend with.
"I've brought a sketch of Mother's grave," Ivarr said, as he dished up a portion of pig. "She would like it; it's... singular."
Yawn. "Can't wait to see it," Vaizey replied.
Ivarr hesitated. "Grania would like to meet you."
Vaizey resisted the urge to bang his head into the desk, forcing a smile, instead. "Of course. I'm sure we'll run into one another while you're here." It wasn't the answer Ivarr wanted, and Vaizey would make a point of meeting the woman if that's what it took. But if he could get out of it, he would.
The men ate in silence for a few moments, and then Vaizey asked, "I trust you've found everything to your satisfaction?"
Nodding, Ivarr finished the bite he'd been chewing. "Yes. The castle runs very smoothly; it's a credit to you."
"And you still intend to add your seal to the pact?"
All traces of Ivarr's disappointment regarding his wife evaporated. His eyes flashed in a way that made his father's features vanish, leaving pure Davina, and at her most passionate. "I'd like to see anyone try to stop me. My mother's death was at the hands of one of the king's right-hand men, and I will not be appeased until both Robin Hood and his precious King Richard are stone dead, preferably with their blood staining my hands."
Vaizey blinked, not expecting this level of vehemence, despite similar declarations having been made throughout his nephew's letter. Somehow, his feelings had to be truly seen to be understood. But the sheriff understood perfectly. His smile was now pure delight. "Excellent. More wine?"
-Railise.
What: Davina's son has dinner with his uncle
Where: Nottingham Castle, Sheriff's Quarters
When: 16 September, evening
Vaizey perused the letter left in his trust by Sir Lucatz. "Trust," now there was a silly word. People thought it was so important, but the truth of the matter was that you couldn't trust anyone in the end. Even your own blood kin often failed you.
But not Davina; she had never once let him down.
Bah. Pushing the thought from his mind, Vaizey refolded the odd missive, then walked over to the painting which concealed a hiding place in the wall beside his bed. He could read about ten percent of the knight's letter, in its strange mix of languages. Burning it would likely be the easiest thing to do, and somehow poetic, since its ashes would mingle with those of the missive from his master. But he would rather know what it was the boy had attempted to say to William the younger, and would therefore have it translated soon. He was probably asking if Vaizey's story was true, and asking what he should do.
What he should do was obey the orders he was given, but no matter. As usual, everything was in hand.
Vaizey had just replaced the picture when there was a knock on the door.
"Enter," he called, moving over to his birdcages.
A young man walked in, robust and dark-haired like his father, tall and blue-eyed like his mother.
"Ivarr, Earl of Caerleon," one of the guards announced.
"Uncle," Ivarr greeted Vaizey, his smile tight but genuine.
Gesturing to the table where a sumptuous dinner had been laid out, the sheriff replied, "Ivarr. Good of you to come all this way. Please, sit."
"Thank you." Ivarr waited until Vaizey had gone to his own chair, and then took the seat allocated for him. He had flawless manners; Davina had hired strict nursemaids and tutors, anyone to keep the boy occupied and where she wouldn't have to look at him until he was an adult. Vaizey didn't share her loathing of children, and had looked in on him occasionally. Granted, he'd been fairly uninteresting for the first few years, as were all youngsters. But he'd become more entertaining with age, and had accompanied his uncle on an outing every now and then. Vaizey had taken the opportunities to teach Ivarr what was really important, and what could be ignored in life.
Clearly, some of his lessons had been forgotten. The wife that Ivarr had brought with him on this visit made that obvious, and what was worse was that had spoken of her with affection in the letter he'd sent, accepting his invitation to the party.
Well, nobody was perfect, and there was that father of his, exerting influences, as well. He hadn't been an easy man, the previous Caerleon, but he certainly did a good imitation of one when presented with a son so late in life. Maxwell had spoilt Ivarr more than Davina ever knew; Vaizey had felt that it would be prudent not to fill her in, so that she didn't tip her hand too soon and do something brash.
But the past was just that, and now there was the present to contend with.
"I've brought a sketch of Mother's grave," Ivarr said, as he dished up a portion of pig. "She would like it; it's... singular."
Yawn. "Can't wait to see it," Vaizey replied.
Ivarr hesitated. "Grania would like to meet you."
Vaizey resisted the urge to bang his head into the desk, forcing a smile, instead. "Of course. I'm sure we'll run into one another while you're here." It wasn't the answer Ivarr wanted, and Vaizey would make a point of meeting the woman if that's what it took. But if he could get out of it, he would.
The men ate in silence for a few moments, and then Vaizey asked, "I trust you've found everything to your satisfaction?"
Nodding, Ivarr finished the bite he'd been chewing. "Yes. The castle runs very smoothly; it's a credit to you."
"And you still intend to add your seal to the pact?"
All traces of Ivarr's disappointment regarding his wife evaporated. His eyes flashed in a way that made his father's features vanish, leaving pure Davina, and at her most passionate. "I'd like to see anyone try to stop me. My mother's death was at the hands of one of the king's right-hand men, and I will not be appeased until both Robin Hood and his precious King Richard are stone dead, preferably with their blood staining my hands."
Vaizey blinked, not expecting this level of vehemence, despite similar declarations having been made throughout his nephew's letter. Somehow, his feelings had to be truly seen to be understood. But the sheriff understood perfectly. His smile was now pure delight. "Excellent. More wine?"
-Railise.