Conquest (no, not the event!)

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Annis
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Conquest (no, not the event!)

Postby Annis » Sun Jan 20, 2008 5:11 pm

(What I have written so far. Murder, conspiracy, betrayal and passion in the C14th.)


Conquest


The chestnut horse galloped through field and over hill, his hooves thudding on the earth below them, the rider’s large black cloak billowing in the air as they sped along in the dark chilly night. A full moon beamed down, bathing the landscape in silver. Frightened wildlife fled from the horse’s path, a pheasant who took flight from the undergrowth did not disturb the steed for determination drove him on.
The horse veered off to the right, down a hill; so many times he had galloped this path. They soon came to a small village where the way became a little more even and the horse fell into a light trot so as not to wake the residents. Wood smoke clung to the air like the grasping hands of infants. But still, the steed rode on and the manor house came into view. The rider stopped the horse before it crossed the bridge and looked up; a flame flickered in one of the chambers, the person within was waiting for the rider. Feet kicked the horse to walk on; they crossed the bridge that separated the manor from the village – separating their lives.
The horse walked round to the stables. The rider got off and tied the steed to a post; their ice white hand patted the muzzle before making their way to the side door. The hand was raised to knock upon the wooden door, but it opened before the stranger had a chance. A great wave of heat hit the rider in the face, somewhat better than the chilled air. A man, in his thirtieth year, clothed in black and hair to match, stood before the rider. “Come” he said in a smooth voice. The rider stepped within and the door was closed behind them. The man led the rider through the house and up the stairs to his solar.
The man took his guest directly to the warm, welcoming fire. The stranger took their hands from the warmth of their cloak and held them up to the burning embers, a tall flame intermittently leaping up at them. The guest turned to face the man and drew off their cloak hood. The fire lit up the guest’s features, revealing high shaped brows and a delicate nose. “Isabella.” Guy whispered, moving forward to take her arms into his hands. Isabella opened her mouth to meet his; their touch was tender and affectionate. He brushed Isabella’s loose hair away from her face, pulling away to look at her flushed features. Finally letting his hands drop; he stepped away, smiling intimately. “Piment?” Guy asked softly, his breath like a breeze on Isabella’s face.
“Please.” Guy picked up the ewer from the hearth and poured the warm, spiced wine whilst Isabella untied her cloak and draped it over the back of the chair. She pulled the chair towards the matching one beside the fire; a soft scraping noise was made as it was dragged along the wooden floor boards. Isabella sat down as Guy passed her a goblet filled to the brim before taking his own seat. Isabella held the goblet in both hands and pressed the warm pewter against her lips, taking in the smells and warmth of sweet the red wine.
“We have not met for some time, Isabella, I have missed you”
“It has only been a week” Isabella laughed seductively.
“A week too long. How have you been since then?” Isabella sighed and took a mouthful of piment,
“The usual. You know how it is with my mother and father – they still think I am possessed by the devil.”
“And are you?” he chuckled and jocular lines formed around his mouth. Isabella laughed her reply to his question and placed down her cup, the more easily to gesture with her slender hands.
“Still I am prevented from sewing and drawing, my days are filled with boredom – I am surprised I have not yet charcoaled pictures upon my chamber walls”
“What a sight that would be!”
“Aye, my mother and father would be horrified. But what would they expect if they have hidden the sewing box and the parchment?” There was a slight pause as Guy took a large mouthful from his goblet.
“I have some parchment that you can have”
“Really?”
“Of course. Anything for you, Isabella.” She smiled and picked up her goblet.
“I have something else to tell you,” The smile had faded now and Guy leaned forward with intent, for he knew that she was serious now, “my father announced to me this day that I am to be ‘trothed to Piers Crawley.”
“Oh, God have mercy upon us” Guy sighed, slumping back into his chair and rubbing his brow with his fingers. “When is this betrothal to take place?”
“The end of next month, after Piers and his father return from their travels.” Isabella wiped away a tear, a stranger to one so strong. “I hate them, I hate them! Why have they done this to me?” Isabella hissed through gritted teeth, her sadness had now turned into fury. “I cannot let this happen! What will become of us?”
“Exactly, I did not kill my wife so I could be with you for nothing. It would destroy me if I could not be with you again.” Isabella stood up and took the few paces that separated the two chairs, and sat down at Guy’s knee, as if she was an obedient dog.
“It is strange what love does to people” she whispered. Her lips pressed against Guy’s leg. At her gentle touch, his hand went to her chestnut hair and fondled with the long strands. “It is fortunate that were are cousins, no one can stop us from meeting”
“And our parents are good friends, but still, it is not a compromise.” They sat in silence, thoughts running through their minds.
“I must take leave of you soon.” Isabella yawned.
“Do not repair yet!”
“But I am tired, Guy.” Isabella stood up and went to the back of Guy’s chair where her hand ran through his hair.
“Stay with me, Isabella” he said, snatching her hand that was resting on the back of the chair and pressing his lips against it, “stay for the night.” Isabella paused in her thoughts, her finger curling a lock of Guy’s hair.
“Very well then” Guy stood to face Isabella and embraced her tightly. She closed her eyes so she could wallow in the comfort it gave her.



The sun poured through the window as Isabella opened the shutters. She looked down at herself, to check that she was dressed well. Everything was in order. She made her way over to the bedchamber door and left to enter the solar. Isabella paused to shut the door behind her. As she did so, she saw Guy standing at the window.
Isabella walked over to join him, her footsteps silent. She placed a hand on his shoulder and looked up at him. “How long have you been awake?” she queried.
“Too long” he replied, still looking out across the village, the land. Isabella’s hand ran from his shoulder and down his back to meet with his own hands that were tightly clenched behind him.
“What is wrong?” whispered Isabella, running her fingers along his hands. She got no reply. Isabella looked about her as if searching for an answer and she spied food upon a table, “Shall we break our fast?”
“I am not hungry” came the reply as Isabella cut a hunk of bread.
“Oh come” she said returning to her place. She ripped a piece off and held it up to Guy’s mouth. Her sympathetic look caused Guy to take it mercifully. “There” she smiled.
“I was thinking that we could do some sword practice.”
“Yes, well enough. But on one condition”
“Yes?” Guy looked at Isabella in the eyes for the first time that morning.
“That you tell me what is wrong”
“There is nothing wrong!” Isabella stood between Guy and the window. She rose onto her toes so that their eyes were level,
“There is something on your mind, and I wish to know what it is.” She paused for a moment, “Please.” It took a moment for Guy to compose himself before answering,
“It is the news you told me last night. I cannot have you marry that man, I cannot lose you.” Isabella fell onto her feet and smiled, “Do you not care? Do you not care that everyday we are getting a day closer to your betrothal, a day closer to losing you?”
“Of course I care, Guy! But you know and I know that we can do something about it, just give it a little time.”
“We do not have time, Isabella!” She fell silent and walked over to the hearth and picked up the ewer of piment and poured some into an empty goblet and drained it in one go. “That will do you no good.”
“No, but it gives me solace at such a time.” Isabella filled the goblet again, “It hurts me too, Guy, you did not see me when I was first told this news. I ended up crying myself to sleep on several occasions. My mother and father seem to think that Piers and I were childhood friends, that we were certainly not! We hated each other; we could have killed each other given the chance.” She downed the piment. “I am so filled with anger and hatred, but I do my best to hide it for I could not live with it playing on my mind all the time! That is why I want to give it a little time, time for us to overcome the shock and time for us to think of a reasonable action to take!” With shaking hands, Isabella returned the goblet and ewer to the hearth. Guy walked towards Isabella, but stopped when he reached the chairs as if some force was holding him back. “I shall take my leave of you now” Isabella whispered.



“Where have you been?” Isabella’s father demanded as soon as she walked through the door.
“Out riding, Father, like you have told me to do to keep myself out of trouble.”
“What time did you set off?”
“Early, I like to ride when the sun is still rising” Isabella was about to walk off, when her father interrupted,
“I have had some news, of which I am sure you will like to hear of”
“Oh? Concerning whom?”
“Master Crawley” At that moment, Isabella’s wandering eyes shot at her father. “Well, do you not want to know of this news?”
“Yes,” Isabella stammered, “yes I do.”
“Master Crawley and his father are returning from their travels early and will hold a feast the day after they return, a Saturday I believe. In two weeks.”
“Ah, well enough.” Isabella’s heart plunged into sadness, “I shall look forward to it.” Upon retreating to her bedchamber and firmly shutting the door, Isabella pulled out the parchment that was hidden amongst her gown. She placed it upon her dressing table, her grip upon it not loosening, whilst her thoughts ran away with the man who gave it to her. She looked out of the window to the sky that was clouding over – how quickly the weather could change so late in the year. Isabella opened her box of jewels and dug her way to the bottom where she came across her small bottle of ink and an old quill. She had just placed them onto her table when there was a knock at the door shortly followed by a maid entering, “Mistress, your mother wishes for you to tend her.”

The night was cold, but Isabella was hot with all her tossing and turning in her bed. She could not get to sleep for there were too many images flittering about in her mind. Isabella sat up and wiped her sweaty brow before moving to her table. She lit her candle from the embers in the fire grate. Isabella sat down and picked up her quill, she paused for a few seconds before dipping the quill into the ink and started to scribble on the parchment.
The quill scratched the parchment continuously, only stopping to be filled up with ink. After several minutes, Isabella placed the quill onto the table and sighed, her head, damp with sweat and tears, resting in her hand. Isabella picked up the parchment to look at her drawing, the candle flame illuminating it from behind. She returned the parchment to the table and blew out the candle before returning to her bed.


"They call me 'quiet girl', but I'm a riot"

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lucy the tudor
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Postby lucy the tudor » Fri Jan 25, 2008 8:59 am

Great stuff Annis, have you ever sent any of these into Mills and Boon, or a magazine like the Lady?
Lucy


lucythetudor@gmail.com

a filthy, arse-grabbing strumpet, masquerading as a demure two-door lady.

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Annis
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Postby Annis » Fri Jan 25, 2008 3:34 pm

Nope, never.

And I dont think the following part would be suitable for magazines such as 'The Lady'. :lol:


"They call me 'quiet girl', but I'm a riot"

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Postby Marcus Woodhouse » Sun Jan 27, 2008 10:32 pm

What happened to the one obout the wee lass having a bit of bother in the reign of Harry the heretic?


OSTENDE MIHI PECUNIAM!

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Annis
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Postby Annis » Mon Jan 28, 2008 10:56 am

Marcus Woodhouse wrote:What happened to the one obout the wee lass having a bit of bother in the reign of Harry the heretic?


I still have it! I just have a wild imagination that cannot be controlled.


"They call me 'quiet girl', but I'm a riot"

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Postby Annis » Tue Feb 26, 2008 10:13 pm

Isabella rode that trodden path to Guy once again, she had her bow and arrows on her back – she told her mother and father she was to practise and who was to say she was not going to? Isabella hastily rapped on the door and jumped in surprise to find that Guy was not the man who had opened it.
“Mistress” the man-servant said and moved to one side to let her in. “Master Guy is in the solar” he continued, watching Isabella take off her bow and arrows and placing beside the door. He had seen Isabella so many times before; for so often did she visit over the past few years he had been working for Guy.
Isabella padded up the stairs that led to the solar, only to find that Guy was asleep in his chair beside the hearth, his deerhounds sleeping at his feet. Isabella walked over to the window and looked out; the afternoon sun was bright and warming. Guy stirred in his chair and Isabella turned immediately. The sunlight forced his eyes to open seeing before him an apparition of sheer beauty. As she moved forward, she came into focus. Isabella stretched out her hand and ran it through Guy’s hair and down to his cheek, when he in turn took her hand and placed the palm upon his lips.
“I did not expect to see you so soon, sweeting” Guy murmured still in a daze, Isabella smiled taking his hands in her own, “what brings you here? Have you come for your cloak?” Isabella looked behind her at her cloak folded over the back of the chair that she sat in only two nights ago.
“No. It is something a little more serious than that.” Isabella’s gaze returned to that of Guy’s and he saw that her sweet smile had vanished. “Two serious things in truth. The first being…the first being that Piers and his father are returning early from their travels. The betrothal will be two weeks this Saturday.” Guy’s grips suddenly tightened, he cleared this throat,
“And the other thing?” he asked, trying to avoid the terrible news.
“I have had another dream.” Isabella bit her lip, trying so hard to hold back tears, but failing “Oh, it was so horrid, Guy! So vivid and so awful!”
“Did you draw it?”
“Yes” Isabella’s voice was barely a whisper. She let go of Guy’s hands to reach up her gown sleeve, producing a piece of folded parchment. She passed it to Guy, who was unwilling to look, but opened it anyway; tensing as he saw what had gone on in Isabella’s mind. Guy saw before him two figures on a bed, one male, the other female. The male was trying to fornicate with the female, but she was doing her best to push him away. A cloaked figure was standing in the background.
Isabella went and stood behind Guy so that she could explain the drawing to him. She pointed to the male on the bed, “That is the Devil, that is Aphrodite, and, as you can probably tell, Death. Or,” Isabella paused, “Piers, me and you, respectively.” There was silence, for Guy was too shocked to find any words that may be of any comfort. “I cannot let this happen, Guy! I cannot let that dream, or nightmare rather, come true!”
“No. I cannot have you go through such pain with someone you hate so much. We need to start making plans, Isabella. We need to kill him!” A loud clank came from behind them; they turned to find Guy’s man-servant putting some dishes onto the board. The man-servant looked at Isabella and Guy in turn and flushed a deep red. “What do you think you are doing?” Bellowed Guy
“I-I was just put-”
“How long have you been in here?” Guy stood up and moved forwards.
“Just a couple of minutes or s-”
“Get out! GET OUT NOW!” Isabella placed her hand on Guy’s chest to prevent him from moving any closer to his servant and hitting him. The servant did as he was told and hastily left the solar.


"They call me 'quiet girl', but I'm a riot"

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lidimy
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Postby lidimy » Tue Feb 26, 2008 10:15 pm

Plot spoiler coming up, I kno-----


<Annis slaps Lid and beats her round the head. "Never will I let you ruin my plot... never, never!" *beat beat beat etc*>


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Annis
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Postby Annis » Tue Feb 26, 2008 10:17 pm

:twisted:

Keep quiet you!


"They call me 'quiet girl', but I'm a riot"

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Postby 'Banastre' » Wed Feb 27, 2008 8:40 am

Ha, I like :lol: More lovey that the stuff I usually read but I'd buy that!


"I've just written a very warm, bubbly character who has happy plans for her future. You'd like her. But I was writing it, I was thinking - she's gonna die." - Andy B.

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Annis
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Postby Annis » Wed Feb 27, 2008 5:05 pm

Thanks!


"They call me 'quiet girl', but I'm a riot"


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