(514-05-17) There's Something Wrong With Guinevere
Summary: Lysanor de Dinton and Idris de Bodenham have a brief discussion of the oddness surrounding their new Queen.
Date: 05-17-514
Related: Follows Gift Giving 1
lysanor idris 

With a cool morning spring breeze blowing against her pale cheeks and whipping through the mass of auburn hair which she is known for, with a basket draped across one arm, Lysanor wanders rather aimlessly through the already crowded marketplace, the many stalls and vendors grateful for their thriving businesses, all due to grand wedding of their High King. The diminutive young maiden does not overly mind the abundance of people, knights, ladies and commoners alike, all hoping to sell their wares or purchase this or that new trinket and so forth. However, it is the sight of the river which entrances her, drawing her away from the hustle of the market, only to find herself upon some pier and perhaps not the safest of places within Carlion. She doesn't realize this for the moment, her gaze watching the glistening waters, so tranquil in this busy place.

She is dressed more modestly today, than the fine garments which she had worn just previous at the King's gift giving. The undertunic, in a nice shade of gold, is long and flowing while the one which she wears over it is colored a bright red, the sides being cinched tight by golden cord. A cape drapes over her shoulders, though with the hood having been blown from off her head, those red locks of hers whip about in a frenzy.

Some knights appear to be inspired by the upcoming tourney and festivities that they are constantly trying to improve their lancing, or perhaps their swordsmanship. The youngest of the Bodenham sons is doing exactly that. Clad in his blackened suit of chainmail, the tabard that denotes the red and gold of his Manor, and carrying a lance, he seems to be headed to the outskirts of the city, somewhere he can easily challenge knights to a joust and fight for glory and respect. But mostly just for the practice of it. Still, there is a moment of pause as he stops by what appears to be the /opposite/ side of the entrance of the city, a place he is admittedly not accustomed to, and so his horse ambles as he tries to get his bearings.

Thankfully, there is a Lady that might help him with that. "Excuse me," he calls out, politely. "Can you tell me which way to head to the entrance of Carlion?"

You check your heraldry at 3, you rolled 1.

So many thoughts rush through the young woman's mind, some troubled, some wistful and yet, there are many moments that begin to spring up, making it difficult to focus on any one of them. These very thoughts are what keeps her gaze staring out across the river, making her oblivious to everything around her. Thus, she does not hear the horse hooves and at first, even the voice which speaks to her, when Idris reaches out for her assistance. With her arms crossed over her chest, that basket hanging off of one of them, filled with various fruits and tarts which she had purchased just earlier, she is almost startled to find the man there, just as she finally turns to make her departure from this place. "Oh!" She exclaims, before she is forced to crane her head back to even get a good look of the man on the horse. "My apologies, I didn't realize that you were there." That tabbard, where had she seen it before? Oh, it was of Bronwen's house! And only then does she realize who this man was, having met him briefly the other day, though only knowing him in passing. Lowering herself into a quick curtsy, her head bowed and staring at the ground beneath the horse's hooves, she intones, "I believe so. Or, I've wandered this way from the market, it shouldn't be too difficult to miss."

Indeed, he is of Bronwen's House. And they did, in fact, meet at that fateful day where he had to duel and subsequently beat two Burcombe lady knights back-to-back. If only it was the shield wall guy, then he might've had better bragging rights about beating down a drunkard. Such as it is, Idris flashes the redhead a smile, noticing the fruit basket for a second. He is hungry, and perhaps he hasn't had time to notice it. A courtly greeting given to Lysanor in an abbreviated fashion, seeing as he is on a horse. He nods to her words. "So the market. Which way to it? And were you at the gift-giving, my Lady?"

Lysanor remembers that day without much fondness, the chaos of the moment still lingering in her mind. There was even a point where she was afraid that they were being held hostage, by a Burcombe of all people! Caerwyn at that! But it was brief and quickly passed. Idris' successful duels against the two Burcome lady knights, however, was the hightlight of that day and because of this, she holds Bronwen's brother in higher esteem than she had before — where she knew very little of thim.

"Come, I will show you." She says as she begins to walk in the direction in which she came, her pace as to continue to hold conversation with the knight. "You are Lady Bronwen de Bodenham's brother, I remember you that evening at the tavern." This she gets out of the way quickly, before her face brightens at the very mention of the gift-giving, "Oh yes! I was there, perhaps later during that first day. Wasn't it lovely? And exciting?" She then blinks, realizing that the man very well may not have been present, for she had seen no signs of him or the Bodenham's then, "Were you able to attend as well?"

Indeed, the day was a blur for Idris, but it was also a day of glory and some success against his opponents. It was also a day of renewed understandings, and maybe newly forged rivalries, but these things one can gloss over. But also some consequences in the aftermath.

"Thank you," he intones as she starts to lead the way, and they start to chat. He considers her words, particularly when she successfully identifies him, and he nods affirmatively to what she says, "I am Sir Idris de Bodenham. Lady Bronwen's brother, indeed." There's a smile for that. "It was rather lovely, yes. And one could call it exciting. I was right at the start and then I left. The Queen looked radiant," though there might be a slightly visible drop in his tone as he mentions this.

"Were you here all morning?" Lysanor decides to ask, for the day was still early and she has to wonder what business the many had at the riverfront. Considering the time of day and the fact that the man may have been out for hours, she decides to offer, "I had purchased some fresh fruit just prior. Would you care for one?" Even before the man has a chance to respond, she takes one of the red apples from within the basket and holds it up towards him. "I had one earlier, they are so very sweet." This offer is a cordial one, as Idris is the brother of one of her friends and a man who had bested a pair of Burcombes!

Continuing in her stroll-like pace, the young maiden's eyes looking around her, watching the fishermen and sailors calling out to one another. Though once the Queen is mentioned, she slowly returns to cast a glance in the Bodenham's direction, her eyes widening a touch. She had heard such words before, not that any of them were false. "Yes, High Queen Guinevere is so beautiful. The entire court seemed to be… taken by her." Some hesitation can be heard within her voice, but she continues in a normal manner. "Not that I can blame them."

"Thank you," Idris will take the apple and he will absolutely take a bite, savoring the taste of the fruit, while his off-hand cares about pulling on the reins so that the horse walks at a more casual pace, the knight riding alongside the lady who is on foot. "I am rather hungry. I wasn't here all morning, but I am attempting to train for the tournament. That, and I would like to joust some people for the love of sports, you understand."

He meets her gaze when her eyes widen a touch, the expression in there perhaps a surprise for him. "Oh, yes, they were. My brother John even murmured out loud when he saw her beauty, today," he points out as they drift towards the market, "however…" It didn't sell him on her, it seems.

Pleased that her gift was accepted and especially to learn that rider truly was hungry, Lysanor smiles pleasantly, her gaze looking ahead of her, already seeing some of the vendors on the outskirts of the market coming into view. "I wish you well then, Sir Idris de Bodenham, though from what I had already witnessed back in Sarum, you truly can hold your own. Two duels in one evening?" She half-turns to regard him.

The topic of Guinevere is a curious one to the woman. Lysanor did not wish to speak ill of her Queen, nor did she have any true reason to do so, and yet, it's as if she must speak to someone the strangeness of the entire event, the way the whole court seemed to love the woman all the same. Perhaps, she was jealous and to this she chides herself quietly. But when the Bodenham makes mention of the queen, starting with words which she had already witnessed when she was there, it is the uncertainty heard in his final word that forces her to ask, "However…Good Sir?" She does not say any more, still gauging the man's thoughts.

"Two duels in one evening. Perhaps I ought to win four challenges in a single tourney, without a single defeat, to beat this record, my Lady. Now would that not be absolutely intriguing?" Idris flashes a grin at Lysanor, finishing the apple and tossing the stem by the wayside. Too reckless. But then, in this time and age, it isn't like there were such concerns as trash cans or sanitation to worry about.

The topic of Guinevere, and the fascination it seems to be dealing to Lysanor causes the Bodenham to turn more fully to her, "Oh. It is nothing. It is simply that while she is truly admirable, I do not understand what draws so many people to express it so loudly."

"It certainly would be intriguing and perhaps some of the other knights will wish to take you up on this challenge." Lysanor says, a soft smile lingering on her lips. It even remains there, frozen in place when Idris makes mention of the way that the crowd seems to simply.. 'love' the Queen in an odd way. At first, she tries to push away these troubling thoughts, when she starts, chin lifted, "Well, she /is/ the Queen and we are all glad to have her." Even still, there is just something about Guinevere… and here her chin lowers, her fair features looking ever thoughtful. Her pace even slows. "I believe that you are right. Or it's hard to not see, not realize just how they all love her so fervently." She then quickly adds, "I can understand it, her beauty is legendary, but…" She then quickly shakes her head, "My apologies, my thoughts get the best of me sometimes."

"It is alright," Idris waves off any need for apology, though the musing does make his eyebrows dip somewhat. Evidently there is quite a bit of distrust writ large in his expression for maybe a moment or two. Still, when she slows her pace, so does he slow his own. "Perhaps, Lady Lysanor," she did offer her name, after all, "we ought to discuss this at a later time and somewhere more comfortable, such as a pub. But right now, I would say let us enjoy our fun with this wedding, and watch and participate in the tourneys and eat and drink to our satisfaction."

It upsets Lysanor that she had not felt comfortable speaking about her sudden and odd distrust in the Queen to anyone, not even her brother. And here she is, opening up a little about her 'findings' to a knight she barely knew. This knowledge alone makes her quiet down, feeling self-conscious for her foolishness. Perhaps, she had read him incorrectly and then what? He will think, no, he will know that she was such a bear, filled with jealousy." It is her to relief when he steers the subject away as best he can and only then does she lift her gaze to his once more. "You are right, Sir Idris. Let us not fill our heads with foolish thoughts. There is much that this day has in store for us both."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License