(510-01-01) Strange Meetings, Glorious News
Summary: Brynmor finds what he thinks will be a quiet spot for a nap, things do not perhaps go quite as he planned.
Date: 510-01-01
Related: None
brynmor huw 

Black Abbey - Sarum
While the grounds of this abbey are generally closed off for the monks own use, the small chapel of the Abbey is open to visitors. The walls are stucco, with hints of the wooden beams beneath them. The smell of a mild incense is constantly in the air, not thick with smoke but lingering from limited use and prayers performed by the monks here. There are a couple of pews in this small space, enough to easily accommodate ten individuals perhaps. Here others may come to pray in the manner of the monks of the Black Abbey, on their knees with arms outstretched in the manner of Pachomius of Egypt. The monks celebrate spring rites here as well, generally opening the grounds and being more festive at this time.

It's a quiet day at Sarum's Black Abbey, but then in the five years since King Cedric laid siege to the city almost all days have been quiet within the enclave with the brethren here being more secluded, more roman leaning, than those to be found across the city at the White. That's not to say that nothing is happening though, even in the small chapel that the monks keep open for visitors. It might be between services but there are candles to trim or replace, a floor to sweep, and numerous other small tasks to keep the place presentable. With the tournament to decide the new king ongoing, messengers are riding back and forth bearing news, and it's a matter of pride for the abbot that any who stop should not find their respite wanting. Each day a monk is tasked with it's upkeep, and today that monk is Huw, who steps inside to briefly survey the general state of things, before deciding that the floor is where he needs to start. Good thing he brought a brush.

The quiet of these abbeys if what draws Brynmor to them far too often. There is a sense of serenity here. Peacefulness and tranquility. Often times, even when there are others present, for they tend to be in quiet prayer. These abbeys are some of Brynmor's favorite places… to nap in. The quiet, the peacefulness, the tranquility, all of it makes for a favorable resting place. Thus, even with the excitement of tournament in full swing, Brynmor has taken up a spot in one of the benches, the full length of his tall frame spread out as he rests tucked away and laying on his side. He uses a rucksack as a pillow. It's been half past the hour since he had snuck away from his Knight and the others they had arrived in Sarum with. For the moment, Brynmor has found his sanctuary, if just for this brief (or not so brief) moment. Even as Huw begins his duties to the church, the Steeple Langford does not stir from his slumber.

With his eyes on the floor and his mind on higher matters, it takes Huw quite a while to realise that he is not alone in the chapel. It's not until he gets to the pew that Brynmor is stretched out on in fact, that his attention is caught. Leaning on the handle of his broom he eye's the sleeping man curiously for a few moments, considering how best to proceed in his allotted tasks, before deciding that actually, he could give the lad a little more time and go trim the altar candles. Resting the broom in the doorway he moves to do just that, although chances are his efforts prove in vain as there erupts an almighty clattering of hooves in the courtyard outside. Several riders, who've ridden hard by the looks of them and their horses, one of whom spares no time in dismounting and making for the abbot's quarters as he bids the others to "ride on, and spread the word." Needless to say, any thought of trimming candles is abandoned as Huw stares from the doorway, torn between his assigned duties, and curiosity as to what news is being spread.

You check your lazy at 16, you rolled 9.

If Brynmor were aware of Huw's generosity in allowing him a few scant moments of peace and slumber, he would gratefully thank him! But alas, he is unaware of such acts of kindness and thus remains unmoved where he rests. However, that blissfulness is soon stirred and while the young squire doesn't open his eyes or even stirs from that position where he rests upon his side, his features do scrunch up briefly, as if annoyed by the sounds of hooves and then the shouting, followed by the heavy footsteps. So more fervently now, he finally moves, to bury himself closer against the back of the bench in an attempt to shut the world out, if that's ever possible, and try to catch those few more seconds of shut-eye. For all Brynmor knows, the man who enter the chapel now could very well be his knight. Or even worse, his father.

With the messenger gone from sight, and his companions riding onwards into town Huw remains in the doorway for a few moments, then turns back into the chapel. He has work to do, and most likely can find out the news later if it is of import. Noting that the sleeping form has moved slightly he picks up his broom again and walks back to the pews, his sandals flapping against the stone flags as he does so. He doesn't restart sweeping yet though, instead leaning once more on the broom as he eyes the figure for a moment before asking quietly, "are you in trouble? Pursued? Do you seek sanctuary within these walls?" Is the rider hunting him? That last one he doesn't ask though, but the thought does cross his mind.

If the messenger isn't checking the pews and any nook and cranny to find him, then more than likely it is neither his knight, nor his father or any other relative in between. Thus Brynmor is allowed to relax somewhat, that furrow of his brow softening as he draws in a deep breath and tries once more to fall into a far deeper slumber. And then, just as he feels himself quietly slipping away, in comes a voice, a quiet one inquiring on whether he was being pursued… Quick-witted as he is, or so he would like to think, Brynmor murmurs somewhat incoherently, waving a dismissive hand in the process, even if he does not yet open his eyes, "Yeah. Steeple-Langford." He then yawns in between broken sentences or words, "Don't know… what they will do to me. If they find me." Nuzzling against his rucksack, he then continues to mutter, "Five minutes more and then I will be on my way." In his mind, five minutes is an hour.

Steeple-Langford. That's a name Huw is aware of, but little more than that. Even if Brynmor can't see it, there's definite confusion on his face as he tries to work out just what to do next given that revelation. "The next service is in a couple of hours, if you need somewhere to rest," he offers, sounding a little uncertain of if he's allowed to offer that or not. "I do not think I have seen any pass through recently," he then adds, almost as an afterthrought, "although if I recall they would perhaps be more likely to visit with our brethren across town should they do so." He stops, considering carefully again, "although there is something afoot. Riders. I did not see their colours though I'm afraid."

Okay, this guy seems to be lingering around longer than Brynmor would like, so the man shifts once more, this time to turn fully and rest on his opposite side. But now, at least, his eyes do open, even if he looks terribly groggy. And annoyed on top of that. "A couple of hours?" Hearing, that, however, does make that grumpiness fade a touch. "Good, good. I'll probably be out of here before then. I mean, if I'm being hunted and pursued, it's difficult to just rest in one place," There is a pause, before he quickly adds in, "When there is little time /to/ rest." He then shakes his head at Huw, his brow furrowing now, "They probably will head there first, but they are crafty sorts and will eventually find their way here as well." His family knows Brynmor all too well, with his many hiding places. Though when this something afoot is mentioned, this does get him to crane his neck up a little more as if getting a better view of the man. "Oh? Do pray tell," He starts to ask, his words cut off by a yawn, before his head once rests presses down against the rucksack, "of what you have learned from these riders?"

Huw continues to watch Brynmor as he shifts position, trying to make sense of the enigma that has found it's way before him. Too richly dressed to be a villein on the run, a thief perhaps? Should he be informing the abbot? Glancing over his shoulder to the door he can still hear the messenger's horse, so the man has not yet departed. Probably best not to disturb their meeting. ONce his attention is back on Brynmor he leans the broom against the end of the pew, then slips into the one behind and takes a seat. "I have heard nothing yet of what news he brings, for you are the only soul I have spoken with since his arrival. Tell me though, if you will, why are you pursued? Are you wronged, or did you do them wrong? I am no priest, and can not take your confession, but I could fetch one who is, if that would ease your burden."

You check your deceitful at 10, you rolled 8.

For the brief moment where Huw is not speaking, his thoughts contemplative of his findings on this very bench, Brynmor believes him to have finally. Or preparing to do so, especially once he hears footsteps on the stone floor… only to realize that the man had not gone at all, but has taken a seat somewhere directly behind him! Here, the Steeple Langford bristles and finally draws himself up to a seated position, his broad shoulders slumped, his hair in disarray and his eyes heavy, but not from lack of sleep! "Okay, you win." He admits defeat. Shifting now, so that he partially faces the man, with his own crooked arm now resting against the back of his bench, he flat out states, "I'm being pursued because my Knight is a hard man, leaving me with little time to rest!" As hard as all knights may be with their squires… "So I've found myself here, for some peace and peace of mind. I have not wronged nor have I been wronged. Not entirely." Then there is a sudden change of subject as if not wishing to continue to tell white lies right here in this chapel. "Maybe we can find out what is afoot." And to this, he looks towards the door which he knew the messenger had made his way to.

Huw rests his hands on his lap as Brynmor rises, leaning forwards ever so slightly as the explanation is given. It's not exactly what he's been expecting, and that much is clear by his continually confused expression, but there's also a spot of relief in there as well, that this affable young man isn't a fugitive from the law. "I'm sorry," he replies quickly, dropping his head a little in a show of mild contrition, "I will leave you be." Starting to rise so as to attend once more to his duties he stops half way out of the pew as Brynmor brings the conversation back round to the messenger's arrival. Uncertainty once again crosses his features as he starts "he is likely talking with the abbot, we shouldn't distu.." although he doesn't get to finish the word before the very rider himself re-emerges into the courtyard.

"Just, look." Brymor starts, once the other man apologizes for interrupting his much-needed rest. "Don't worry about it, alright. And if you do meet some nosy Steeple Langfords, don't tell them that I was ever here." It's best not to let them know that he may very well frequent this spot. He is, however, wide awake now and some of this news which has been hinted to him does make him mildly curious. So curious in fact, that he decides to rise and even gestures for the other man to follow him. "I don't plan on disturbing anyone. Just a little ear to the door and…" That door finally opens, the blonde squire's eyes now studying this rider, this messenger. Making the slow journey down the length of the bench which he had just rested on now, he looks as if he's trying to intercept this man. "Good day to you." He starts out, rather charismatically despite his initial grouchiness. "I hope that nothing is amiss. You seem to be in quite the hurry as if someone's manor just caught on fire."

Huw looks about to object at the suggestion that he lie, then even more so at the idea of eavesdropping, but Brynmor is spared his actual reply as the messenger pauses in his stride to examine the pair of them. "A manor," he replies with an amused grin, "you think to small young sir, my news is of the kingdom. The tournament is suspended, spread the word far and wide; the sword is pulled from the stone!" He lets his words sink in for a moment or two before he continues, "when I left there were still some who doubted, and arrangements were being made to repeat the feat, but there seems little thought of deception from the majority. God, or Gods, save King Arthur, long may he reign."

Brynmor isn't above being all sneaky, nor is he above lying! So his boldness in assuming Huw would be game for such things is evident of this. However, now that they have gotten their answer, the news which they were hoping to learn, the young squire isn't sure what to make of it all. He just blinks a moment, turning to his companion with a slightly surprised look in his eyes, before his gaze goes back to the man. "That is… That is glorious news!" He exclaims enthusiastically. "Long may King Arthur reign." He then echoes the man's sentiments. "Now I wish I had gone to be witness to this." And despite his usual laziness, there is some regret in the squire's heart that he truly did not make the trip to the tournament. This may be seen on his face now, when his features harden.

"With his message delivered the man offers the pair a warm smile before nodding "aye, glorious indeed. Now if you will excuse me, I am away to find somewhere more fitting to toast our new King." Or, a tavern, as they're more commonly known, "good day to you both." And with that he's gone, back across the courtyard to collect and mount his horse before riding out back to the road once more. As for Huw? Well, his initial response was much the same as Brynmor's, a new king was expected yes, but not quite like that. It takes him a little longer to find his words but as he stares after the departing rider he starts to mutter one of the common prayers of thanks. Once that's said he turns back to Brynmor, still a little overwhelmed by it all, but just about coping, "do you know aught of Arthur?" He doesn't, but then he knows very few names outside of these walls. "To think he drew the sword out, these are portentous times indeed." Then, quickly, another thought occurs to him and he says quickly, "perhaps, if you find your knight and give him this news, he will forgive your absence?"

All that Brynmor continues to do now is just stare with wide-eyes after the departing messenger. Surely, the thought of toasting this new King would draw him to trail behind the man for a night of good drinking and then some, but the news itself has left him, well, awestruck and overwhelmed. "You!" He then says to Huw, "We should have a toast ourselves. Come, I’m sure there is good wine to be found here, perhaps food as well. Maybe make it some sort of celebratory feast in honor of our new King!" He even pats Huw on the shoulder in a rough, but playful manner. "Brynmor de Steeple Langford, by the way." He finally makes his own introductions, which does go to those that his family are the very ones who may be in pursuit of him. "And I was about to ask you the same. Who is this Arthur? I wonder if anyone knows. Or anyone whom I know." When his own knight is brought up, he cannot help but openly grimace, "I suppose you may be right. He was supposed to be on his way to the tournament and here I am. His squire."

Huw might have let the suggestion of eavesdropping go unchallenged given the turn of events, but the idea of partaking of the abbey's food and wine on a whim is a step to far. "No!" he replies firmly, stepping back a pace after the pat, still equally as overwhelmed as Brynmor, "forgive me if I seem discourteous, but it is not mine to give. Perhaps if you spoke with the abbot? Or Brother Hosteller?" In shock at the news he might be, but he's not about to start springing supplies from the kitchen or wine cellar. One the introduction is given he stammers back a "Huw, Brother Huw," just in case the habit wasn't clue enough as to his vocation. As a noble name has now been given he finishes with, "I think perhaps, sir, that you should leave. You might yet catch up in time to see the King, and find out the answer to our question."

While all the excitement of the news and the thought of drinking and being merry is so fresh in Brynmor's mind, it's when this Brother Huw rains on his parade, so to speak, that all of that irritation and slight grouchiness returns. He was hoping to share a little drink with the guy, but bringing the abbot into it?? "Er, yeah. Maybe next time then." He then makes his way back to where he left his things on the bench and begins to collect them all. "Why would the King ever come here?" He then asks, turning towards Huw just as he lifts the pack up and over his shoulder. "But you are right. I will seek out my knight and the rest of my family. And if they had not heard," Which is odd, as usually Brynmor is the last to know! "Then they will be delighted with this news." So with that, the lad strides to the door, pausing in his step, when he finally says, "And thank you for your generosity in letting me find the solitude and rest that I need."

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