(514-04-15) A Dinton Lady and A Burcombe Lord
Summary: Lady Lysanor Dinton runs into Sir Caerwyn Burcombe as she was heading to court. The man was not what she had expected.
Date: April 15th, 514
Related: This comes after and then before parts of A Day At Court
caerwyn lysanor 

There is the quiet roar of market day festivities in Sarum - by midday today, the word has gone out. Earl Robert de Salisbury is holding court, the Pendragon himself is coming to Salisbury, war is on the horizon and all the knights of the realm, able bodied and willing, are in town. Not all the knights have been granted hospitality in the Castle so the ones who are part of their respective knight's company have resorted to filling the inns here to overspilling and drunken sottedness in the streets. The Earl keeps the peace with his men and good Christian values, however, so the revelry doesn't get too out of hand.

It is Caerwyn and the Burcombe party that descends on the city now too - word is slowly starting to spread. Challenging the Lord himself during the festivities, he made an impassioned speech about the plight of the people - the winter was hard and honest farmers have turned to banditry. While his accusation - that Lord Robert, despite his capabilities, could not know everything in the land, having no witch's glass or third eye and need rely on loyal vassals to report on the state of affairs honestly - had basis and was not unfounded (even the Lord himself was not God or employed the arts of the Fates and Furies, as far as anyone knew), the timing was imperfect and the wording was not ideal. So as Caerwyn makes his way out of Sarum Castle, he turns to creature comforts with his men - wine, vittles and possibly the company of women. They sing a loud marching chant as they head through the market square on their way to the nearest tavern.

After such a long and arduous journey through less than favorable climate and circumstances, some would say, Lysanor is pleased to be back in Salisbury. Due to her absence, there is much for her to catch up on within her own household. She spends time in the company of her mother, who has informed her of the various shipments that they should be expecting as well as dates for possible feasts that they will be holding for their allies and family alike. All of this keeps the Dinton maiden busy for the time being, allowing for both her brother and cousin to ride off to Sarum for the Earl's court. Being the diligent and responsible sort, as she was raised to be, expected to marry some vassal knight and oversee his household, Lysanor is able to finish her duties with some time to spare. The latest word has informed her that her family still remain at Sarum and thus she decides to set off to meet with them and perhaps they could spend the knight there before returning to Dinton, if accommodations were available. With everything that she has witnessed and experienced, the formality of Earl Robert's court sounded inviting at this moment.

So dressed in her finest traveling attire in the hues of her manor's colors, Lysanor sets off for Sarum, spending half of the day on the road with only her maid, Myfanwy, and several retainers to accompany and guard her. In her heart, she knows that she would make a terribly late showing, but even if she cannot be at Court, itself, just surrounding herself with the energy of Sarum will be enough. As they pull into the marketplace, the hood of her blue coak still over he head as waves of bright auburn locks dance about and whip in the wind from beneath the covering, she slows her snow white steed down to a slow walk, just as her retainers move forward to the guide the horse towards one of the posts and prepare to assist their charge down from her saddle.

The mews where horses are tied and kept is running a busy service. A young straw-haired youth in leather armor lingers there, warching the horses - despite the hospitality granted by Earl Robert, the Burcombes are a suspicious lot and this lad of fourteen is one of the Burcombe squires. When Lysanor arrives on snow white steed, the boy can't help but whistle low and appreciatively - if approached, he'll claim a love for horses and an eye for great beasts. Great beasts indeed! Caerwyn saunters towards the horses and dismisses his men to their private going-ons with a hand and a light sack of denarii placed in the hands of the chief footmen - they are to amuse themselves here in Sarum to the best of their budget. "Alecwyn, what news?" Caerwyn sweeps his gaze onto his straw-haired squire but when he notices where the boy is looking, Caerwyn looks too. Lysanor. "G'day, m'Lady Dinton," he calls airily.

It is her retainers and guards who are the first to notice the Burcombe presence in the area and so they remain on the ready. One of them even gestures for the young squire to allow them some space, just as one of the other retainers offers up a hand to aid the small maiden down from her tall horse. So when she is addressed, Lysanor is surprised to realize just who, exactly, is speaking to her now. She looks taken aback, but in polite manner, dips down into a flourishing curtsy all the same, "Sir Caerwyn, a pleasant day to you as well." With one of her men now taking the reigns of her horse to secure, the others remain close at hand with the young maid, Myfanwy, standing the nearest to the diminutive young maiden. To continue with the polite small-talk, she then remarks, "I take it that you have already attended the court session earlier today?" Bright blue eyes scan the area around her, "It can safely be assumed that the palace would be quite busy about now. Busier than the norm."

"The Great Hall is packed and the crowds absolutely stifling. If you're one to mingle with no space for elbows and clumsy knights stepping on your toes, it is the place to be," Caerwyn says with a dry measure of snark. The distance between him and Lysanor is compounded by the presence of armed retainers. He respectively keeps his distance. "However, I am told a good mug of ale is to be had at the Boar's Beard, and a troupe of bards tell stories the like of which you have not heard just outside. Exciting times we live in," Caerwyn says, roguish smirk paired with casual disinterest. "What brings you to Sarum to-day? The prospect of clumsy knights begging a dance?" He holds both hands up defensively and shakes his head. "I'm one of those clumsy knights. One would've thought sword footwork might translate into dance steps." He leans forward a bit, narrows his eyes, and mouths, while shaking his head, "It doesn't."

A brow gently arching when the Burcombe describes the activity at Court, Lysanor's brilliant gaze quietly studies the knight's expression, his mannerism as if to gauge something from those aspects alone. She is a cautious creature, one who knows full well of their families' differences and yet, she retains a more or less friendly, if not warm, demeanor in the man's presence all the same. "I cannot say that I am interested in placing myself in such a stifling and uncomfortable situation, but as it is Court, I am certain that the Earl's guests will present themselves with some sense of formality and decorum." Here, she even allows a small smile to touch upon her lips.

Those lips then part, perhaps to excuse herself from the man's presence, before the mention of a bardly entertainment is made. And thus she pauses in her words and in her step. "Is that so? Then I'm certain that the mood for the evening will be delightful to all." That said, she gently remarks to some of Caerwyn's little quips, including giving some explanation on her own appearance here, "Actually, I was hoping to catch the end of the Courtly session, if that. Otherwise, my Lord Brother and Cousin should have already arrived. If it is as you say, Sir Caerwyn, perhaps we will enjoy an evening at the Boar's Head with good food and good tales to be sung." Another quick study is then made of the man, before she replies, "I am sure that you do well enough, despite the dance floor being very different from what is performed on the battlefield."

Caerwyn checked his romance of 2, he rolled 10.

"I have no need to lay low another man or woman, and that is a blessing," Caerwyn replies awkwardly. It is perhaps the sudden focus of the lady's attention on him. He is not one to demur from a lady's glance but there is a piercing quality to Lysanor, a brilliance to her restrained smile that one cannot look at directly. He falters, at a loss for words, before surmising his best understanding of courtly Christian romance - which is very little indeed. Clearing his throat, eyes flicking subconsciously upwards at some higher power (a cruel pagan goddess smirking mirthfully down moreso than a benevolent Christian patriarch giving leave to act) before he barges ahead. "I would brave the crowds once more if you intended to go. I could escort you." A glance at the men around Lysanor. "A gentleman escort. I mean, to keep clumsy knights from assailing your toes. Though I'm a clumsy knight." He pauses, wondering whether he can dig himself any deeper. "You're in full rights to deny me. Not that you didn't know that."

A laugh, finally, as Caerwyn covers his eyes with a hand and says, sheepishly, "Allow me to flee honorably, m'lady Dinton."

Lysanor check her merciful at 10, she rolled 6.

So used to the Burcombes being mostly loud and boisterous in mannerism, including Caerwyn himself, from what she has seen of the man in the past, Lysanor cannot help but be slightly bewildered by the stumbling of some of his words now. It doesn't help the Burcombe that her eyes remain locked upon him, as is her attentive nature. Perhaps not being bashful nor shying away or demure actions of that sort which other ladies sometimes perform. No, Lysanor is proud in nature, confident in herself and her family and while she can be demure and gentle and 'shy' at times, at this moment, it is her confidence that shines bright. A brief glance is then given the hall where everyone had gathered to address the Earl. It would seem that the session very well may be drawing to a close, noting several individuals already making their departure either for one of the inns or taverns or to claim their horses so that they may return home. "It doesn't seem as if we would be in there for very long. The night is already drawing close." And despite her prudent nature as well, there is something rather… strangely pitiful? about the Burcombe heir's sudden loss of words. Lysanor knows that she should never let her guard down while in the presence of a Burcombe, but rather than make light of whatever he felt he had made, what blunder had forced him to attempt to flee, it is her own natural kindness which allows her to say, "There is no need for that, My Lord. While my coming here may be wasted with the court session winding down, I still hope to make the most of the evening. Perhaps, you could wait with me, if you wish, for my the arrival of my kin." She then adds in, "Of course, I would not hope to hold you back from any pressing matters."

Caerwyn checked his lustful of 13, he rolled 12.
Caerwyn checked his flirting of 8, he rolled 4.

"My men are busy attending to the pressing matters that you speak of" Caerwyn says, recovering adequately enough to speak coherently, "And I am free" A cough sounds. The squire seems to have drawn attention his way. "Along with my squire to proudly escort a Lady of Dinton to Court proper. My reputation and name precedes me. I know the rivalry between our houses extends long into the past, but allow me the pleasure of knowing your name?" He steps forward and holds out his hands. Though Lysanor's attentiveness has its charms - what man or woman would not like complete and utter focus on them? - Caerwyn has his own. Dark brows knitted together in seriousness, green eyes sparkling, Caerwyn slowly spreads his lips into a smile - it is an expression he has practiced countless times in the looking glass, calculated to send maiden's hearts aflutter like butterflies. Hand out, he looks inquisitively and attentively - he subtly adjusts his stance so that his body language matches that of Lysanor's.

Of course, though, Lysanor's retainers might have something to say about touching hands for a kiss of the hand or simply an acknowledgment. Handshakes are between knights, typically, a manly greeting communicating solidarity.

Lysanor checks her proud at 16, she rolled 2.
Lysanor checks her suspicious at 10, she rolled 19.

While Caerwyn may not be as tall as her giant of a brother, Lysanor's small frame is still rather dwarfed by the man's height all the same and so when she speaks with him, directs her gaze upon him, she is forced to keep her chin lifted ever so slightly, even at this polite distance between the pair thus far. When the man's cough draws her attention briefly to his young squire, the one who had whistled at her on her arrival. It is, however, when Caerwyn asks for her name where Lysanor isn't quite sure if he was merely being cordial and polite, rather than speak it outright, or if he truly had never learned it. If it were the latter, she would be rather disappointed, but she does go on to remark, "Have we not met in passing along the roadside west of Sarum for all of our lives? Or at the court or the marketplace?" While she is making a point of some sort, her words come out in a light-hearted manner all the same. "Lysanor de Dinton, but you already know where I am from." A pause, "And the history between our houses." When his hand extends, it is, perhaps, an automatic response to lift her own and offer it, before she even realizes what she has done. Still, it would only be polite to allow the man this greeting rather to dismiss him altogether. For the moment, she seems to be put at ease due to the man's earlier bashfulness and then now, when he returns in full force with a gentleman's demeanor. Her guards, of course, watch the scene carefully, for there is little more than they can do but that. "If the court is no longer in session, my Lord Brother should be making his departure at any moment. Then again, he has a lot to tell the Earl about his findings."

"Then let us away at once," Caerwyn replies, delicately taking Lysanor's hand and leaning forward to brush lips against the back of it. He keeps it chaste, however, lingering not and quickly straightening. Without another word.l, he marches towards Castle Proper.

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