Fateful Voyage; A Tale of Albion - I

He lay upon the grass, trying to rise, but falling back down heavily to his hands and knees. He was weary, making even the pain a distant thing. He looked over and saw his notched broadsword beside him, reached out, and gripped the hilt.

The familiar feel reassured him.

He rolled over and laid upon his back, staring into the sky. It all slowly came back to him. His heartbeat pounded in his ears; he felt feverish.

"I remember", he said to himself through cracked lips, thinking back to the beginning. Suddenly it wasn't his heartbeat pounding, but bells, a great tolling and clanging...


I


The bells pealed, ringing loudly across the city of Camelot. Inside the Holy Church, the very center of the Realm of Albion, many richly-clad bodies were packed one next to the other, all kneeling, abasing themselves towards the altar as the Bishop blessed them all in a loud voice, nearly drowned out by the bells sounding above them all in the cathedral towers.

Caddan McClannad knelt, close by other men-at-arms in one of the back rows. He wore the cloak and surcoat of the Brotherhood of Griffins, and the Templar Cross that showed he was a Paladin. He was a young brown-haired Highlander with striking blue eyes, and a face quick to smile; and smiling he was, looking at his friend Sheymus next to him, who was winking at him and gesturing at a comely lass in a purple robe in front of them. Caddan shook his head, and once again looked towards the floor to try to pray; but he kept on grinning nonetheless.

The crowd was there to be blessed for an upcoming voyage, a voyage to extend the power of Albion in the name of Arthur Rex. There was a curious mix of people in the Chruch that day, many of them men-at-arms and Clerics, Highland Griffons like Caddan; but there were also a smattering of Britons, Mages or Elementalists mostly, a scattering of Scouts, and here and there, a lean Saracen Infiltrator, inevitably dressed in somber colors.

And then the Bishop finished his prayer, and all rose to their feet. The bells had stopped ringing, leaving a vast silence that was almost as deafening to Caddan's ears. Councillor Shaw strode up to the dais, impeccably dressed in an ermine-fringed robe, his medallion of office around his neck.

"I see many proud man and woman of Albion here this day", he said in a clear voice, echoing through the ancient Church. "And like the good Bishop, I wish to add my voice in praying for your success, and eventual safe return."

Shaw went on talking, as Sheymus nudged Caddan. Caddan ignored the big bluff Highlander, but was nudged again, twice. Finally he looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye, to see Sheymus lean over and whisper "Bet ye a mug a ale I bed her". Caddan kept his face carefully neutral as he whispered back, "A beauty like her'd sooner bed a decrepit but rich Duke" and Sheymus chortled until he was kicked by Red Donald in the row behind him. The lady in purple probably did not hear them, Caddan thought, thankful for small favors. The heat from the packed bodies in the Church was stifling.

Eventually the Councillor was done, and all filed out of the great Church of Albion; the sky was clear, deep blue, and the Brotherhood of the Griffon gathered across the way, Highlanders young and old, resplendent in their blue surcoats, surcoats that Caddan knew would be splashed with all manner of alcohol before too much longer. He joined a small group of companions, Sheymus and Red Donald among them, and they all strode down the cobbled street towards Ye Mug.

The inn was crowded and boisterous; they took a table near the back, after dragging a passed-out sot off of it and laying him on the floor. "Hey, hey!" a saucy Briton lass called out, carrying a tray of mugs, "Out to the street with that one!" as Carfryd laughed and dragged the insensible man towards the door.

They drank into the eve, telling tall tales, speculating on the fighting they might see, wondering what being on a ship, a big ship, would be like. Sheymus had pulled the saucy serving lass into his lap and was kissing her neck as she squealed when
Caddan first noticed the man in the corner, alone, a wineglass in his hand.

The man was a Briton, with a trimmed beard and moustache; he was dressed richly, in a fine tunic and dashing cloak. He looked familiar...the man noticed his stare and motioned him over to his table. Caddan rose and took his mug over, turning back to grin as Sheymus was bopped over the head with a serving tray, and the room roared with laughter. He sat down, across from the man.

"Ahhh, a Brave Griffon", the man grinned, leaning back and signalling for two more drinks. "You were at Hurbury, then?" His voice was urbane, cultured.

"Aye" Caddan replied, remembering the retaking of Caer Hurbury three moons ago. Glory and Honor, the words rang once more in his mind, as they stormed the battlements...he suddenly knew who the man was. "Councillor Merton".

Merton chuckled and drank the last of his wine.
"Ex-Councillor is a more appropriate term." He nodded and smiled to the serving girl as she brought another glass and another mug. "It seems we will be shipmates" he said. Caddan set down his mug. "Shipmates?" he said. "Yes," Merton leaned in closer to the Paladin; Caddan realized the man was drunk. "Do you find it strange that I would be joining you?"

In truth, Caddan thought it strange. Merton had been removed from the Council not long ago, for alleged 'improprieties', though wild rumors flew about just what had happened. "Certainly you noticed more than a few troublemakers at the Church today?" the ex-Councillor continued. "Outcasts, the inconvenient...even the unfortunately brave, such as the Brotherhood of the Griffon?"

Caddan thought he knew what the man meant. The Griffons, young Highland upstarts, had outshone the Regent's own Golden Lions that day at Hurbury, causing many a scuffle since. He drank, and looked at Merton.

The ex-councillor raised his wineglass. "Surely you don't think that we were chosen for the expedition because of our honor!" Merton laughed, and leaned back once more, smiling. "Young Highlander, this voyage is our death sentence." He drank down his wine swiftly, while the revelry continued around them.