(514-06-21) Returning to Ashes
Summary: The party that went after Sir Sior returns to find Sarum a different place.
Date: June 21, 514
Related: Unnamed Feeling and Trouble in Sarum
arian aluksander dillion kamron deryn isyld ffion evae 

It has been several days since the entourage of knights and squires — and one bow-mistress — rode out to apprehend the murderous Sior. As they return, there is no doubt that they missed the siege on Sarum. Areas of the city are in disaster, and there is a certain quiet unsettled air about the market as they enter from the west. Buildings still smolder from fires, and there are streets still barricaded and guarded by heavily armed and armored knights and soldiers.

Sir Arian de Laverstock is amongst those who enter the market, still astride her mulberry gelding. Her arm has been placed in a sling and secured tightly to her side due to a shoulder and rib injury and her armor is still rented from her encounter with Sior and his entourage. Her helmet is attached to her saddle, allowing her grim expression to be seen as she regards the state of the city. "Gods…" she murmurs.

If chainmail could be considered heavily armored, then you could count Aluksander in that lot. Though he isn't posted at any particular barricade, instead overseeing a group of men re-constructing a wooden fence towards the entrance from the east. The tall knight is still scowling, face marred with dirt and tiredness; it would appear he's been burning the midnight wax these past few days, though his armor doesn't look as though it had seen any recent repairs. His shield is also not obvious anywhere in the area, though his sword is quite obvious, hung in its scabbard on his back.

Sir Dillion de Bishopstone and his squire, Ballick, both ride into Sarum in ill humour. The squire, still upset after battle made a mess of Dillion's arms and armour, is murmuring dark thoughts, sitting atop his own gelding and bringing a change of horse behind him on a rope. Dillion's humours are out, on the other hand, on account of a mauling: his face is grey, his left-arm bound tightly to his body, and through sheer wear is almost tilting out of his saddle.

So passing through the gate it is the squire who first notices the devestation, murmuring a soft "Jesus," wincing, and crossing himself quickly for his impiety. Dillion only gradually comes to his senses, catching the whiff of burning thatch, the reek inseparable from a recent combat. He straightens up, grows even greyer, but says nothing.

Kamron grimaces as the smell of ash and flame washes over him, "Lord Above. I never imagined that it would get so bad. There must have been thousands of them." Along with the returning knights and squires are four bound and gagged men, two of them almost as young as the squires. His own armor and surcoat are spattered with blood, and there's a slice across his surcoat at the left hip. He slows to a stop, looking around the market in horror, "We should have been here." The words are murmured, stricken, as if he truly believed that five knights and their squires could have turned the tides of a battle of this size.

"We cannot think about what should have been, Kam," Arian says softly to the Dinton as she slows her horse alongside his. "There is nothing to say that we would actually have turned these tides if we had been here." She inhales deeply, and the smell causes her to immediately draw her hand to her nose. She has not smelled that smell in a long time. She then notices Aluksander and starts to guide her horse in his direction. "Lo, Sir Aluksander…" She glances over toward Dillion and his squire, offering small nods at their own reaction to the market. "We heard… what is the status of the city?" Her expression is drawn and worried, and she cannot stop the second question from escaping her lips, "Have you seen my brothers?"

By way of one of the streets, Sir Deryn arrives with others who have been fetching supplies, some with buckets of water to give to commoner and knight's alike working to put out the remaining fires, and begin to repair the area as best as they might at the moment. Taking one bucket herself, she heads towards the group reparing the wall that includes Aluksander, the young lady knight pausing before him, "Water?" As for she, there is some stiffness in her movement, and from behind, there's obvious repair to her mail along one area of her back, some chain shinier than the rest. Dirty is she, though not so blood-splattered as others.

Since the battle the other day, the second one, in which she followed Jaradan, Isyld has remained in Sarum running patrols in and outside of town, checking for hidden Saxons in houses as instructed. So, it's with armor and armed with her sword and her axe that she walks through the market, just running patrol, checking the people, looking for safety issues. Perhaps she looks a little worn and tired, but dedicated. Noticing the other group of knights, some familiar, she approaches, Kamron perhaps one she is most familiar with from the challenges. She tips her head in a nod, "Sirs," greeting them all as a group.

It isn't the best time to be traveling /to/ Sarum if one isn't a knight or squire, which is precisely why Ffion has two Stapleford knights following up behind her. Ffion is manning a cart, the contents of which are under woolen blankets. A grim look settles on her features as she surveys the scene. Noticing an impromptu gathering of knights arriving, Ffion steers herself in that direction. Her eyes can't help but flit from injury to injury. Instead of asking anything directly for now, she listens on to hear about the state of the city, should anyone know.

The town's state obliges Dillion to try and pull himself together, pulling himself up in his saddle with a grunt of discomfort, restoring himself to the facade of a straight-backed, inspiring man-at-arms and slayer of the Earl's enemies. He still looks like hell, but hell making an effort.

"Sir," Dillion says to Kamron, his voice a little quiet, "we were in pursuit of justice, and to turn away from that… the Lord gave each of us tasks according to our strength, and Sarum stands yet." The knight gives approving looks to the others passing about, a polite nod in response to Isyld's greeting.

Turning when he is called, it takes Aluksander a moment to recognize Arian and the others, what with the bandages and everything. "Well met, Sir Arian," he calls back, taking a few steps away from the work being done to approach the knight. "The city is … secure. And I can't say that I have seen your brothers, though I have also not heard of them being counted among the slain, of which I have been keeping a closer count. So unfortunately, I can't offer you any happier news than that," he says.
Aluksander nods to the other knights that ride with her. "The Inn and tavern can both offer respite; they've moved the triage out to the fields without. Within, we rebuild and refortify, even while others hunt the blasted Saxon dogs," he says. He then takes note of the men being pulled bhind them. "I see you have prisoners, shall I relieve you of them? It would seem you've had a hard ride. I am more than willing to take them to the holding area, while you recover?" he offers.

Kamron looks over to Aluksander when Arian greets the man, inclining his head as well. Isyld and Deryn gets the same greeting, and he grimaces over to Dillion, "Yes, I know. It still hurts to see Sarum in such a state. But you're quite correct. How are you holding up, Sir Dillion? I know how horrible traveling before being fully healed can be." His eyes shift over to Arian as well as he speaks, not judging at all, really. Looking back to the prisoners, he adds, "I think we can see them to the keep and turn them over there. Thank you. Were there many lost then? I assume so, based on the damage."

Stepping back from Aluksander as he's called, Deryn's question as to whether or not he might wish some water fades off. Listening quietly to the conversation, she soon turns attention to others that arrive as well, dipping her head to each in turn, "I do not believe your brothers are on the list of those that were killed in battle." She finally does offer to Arian. "Only two I know are confirmed at this moment. Others.. it is in the hands of healers and the gods that they pray too."

Arian does not respond to Kamron's look or words, but does offer him a wry smile. Then she sobers, looking back to Aluksander. "At least that is some news…" She shifts uneasily in her saddle, and then starts to dismount. She struggles a bit with her arm at her side, but manages to get onto her feet without making a fool of herself. She glances over toward Deryn at her words, and she breathes out a slow exhale. "I will have to hope that they are all okay." Then she starts to wind her gelding's reins around his head so she can guide him. She licks her try lips. "Who were amongst the casualties?" The question is said in a dry voice.

Isyld hasn't even heard who are among the casualties really, so she looks to Arian at the question, curious herself, perhaps somewhat dreading it as well. Feeling like the worst sort of gawker as she awaits the response. The others who join up are given a friendly smile, though seeing wounds of those from battles, a flash of sympathy lights in her eyes. "It seems all houses have felt the effects."

"I apologize, but I couldn't help but overhear…" well couldn't help while waiting for a moment to interject that is. "If anyone here is in need of aid, please feel free to seek me out. Just ask after Lady Ffion de Stapleford," she offers the warriors, wounded and not wounded alike. "If I may, I just want to make sure none of my kinsmen are among the casualties before I move on to triage."

Dillion replies to Kamron's expression with a very small, very wry smile. "It is far more comfortable, sir, to be riding injured than to -not- be riding injured, if you follow me. The lady of the manor knew the healing touch." Behind, his squire murmurs something about bleeding straight through his clothes and all, but in the tumult nobody would be likely to hear him even if they cared.

Overhearing Isyld, Dillion looks over at her, catching the 'all houses' and unable to prevent himself from his own selfish queries. "Any Bishopstones among the hurt, do you know? My brothers may have been…" the young knight catches himself, shakes his head, cuts off his question.

Aluksander scowls at the question of who died, anger flaring back up easily enough. He shakes his head, a short, quick motion, then exhales and forces his brow to unknit. "Sir Aeryn has been killed, for one," he says, bitterly. "Maelgwyn de Burcombe, as well, I'm sorry to report. Outside of that, I have neard of no deaths. Injuries, though, I don't know. I was assigned to guard the castle proper, and thus was not present for the majority of the fighting. I'm sorry I'm such a poor source of information," he says, shrugging helplessly. He moves to stand beside Deryn, reaching out to stroke her arm affectionately before doing so. He then addresses everyone as a whole. "Truly, as a whole, I think we gave far worse than we got. It is just … hard to take being attacked so close to home."

Kamron shifts in his saddle as Arian works to dismount, but he does not leave his own saddle yet, "I assume the Dintons were down in Wilton? Did it get hit as well?" His eyes go off to the southwest, searching the sky for smoke, but with so much smoke immediately in the air about them, it's difficult to see if Wilton has been burned as well. Nodding to Isyld, he adds, "I do hope that everyone made it into the cities in time, and that the manors are not too damaged." Ffion's words cause him to bow his head to her, "I'm certain that the assistance of healers is at a premium at the moment, Lady Ffion." Aluksander's response causes him to blink, "I have to say that I haven't met either of them greatly, but Sir Aeryn? Just after she was married. How is the widower?" Concern flickers over his features, a deepening frown.

The Pagan woman looks over toward Ffion as she speaks of aid, and Arian shakes her head slightly. "We were seen to on our way back to Sarum… Sir Dillion is the only one I worry about." And she glances at the Bishopstone. Then her attention returns to Aluksander as he lists the dead he knows. Arian's face pales at the mention of Sir Aeron, and she glances over toward Kamron at the mention of the windower. "Oh… Sir Perin…" She shakes her head, and sighs. Her shoulders seem heavy. "What of the Saxons? Have they fled Salisbury?" There is a touch of hope there, suggesting she wants to hear that all is safe once more in the fiefdom.

"I meant houses being affected by the injured as well, not certain of more Bishopstones, but none that I am aware of. I have heard of no other casualties." Isyld tells Dillion in the response to his query. At the mention of Perin and the others, she also shakes her head. Indeed it was sad. "I could make inquiries as to how Sir Perin is with his family, but so far I have heard nothing."

Deryn offers a soft smile to Aluksander when he moves back next to her, the light touch of his hand to earn a momentary grasp of his hand in hers should she be able to do so. Turning to Kamron, she answers his question, "I heard he took it fairly hard. Beyond that, I have no other news. " But with a subtle shift of her chin upwards, she nods, "They are gone from Sarum, at least. Fleeing, though in various directions. Those that could have been patroling and harrassing them.. "

Aluksander grimaces to Kamron and shakes his head briefly at the question of Sir Perin's condition. But, he has no further report to offer, as well. "Aye, and there are parties being gathered, even now, to pursue them or to likewise attack them. Sarum is safe, but those who wish to are being afforded the opportunity to retaliate," he explains. He then gestures towards the relative disarray of the area. "The rest of us are helping as best we can to put things right as swiftly as possible. I should think we are lucky the attack came when it did; if they had struck much earlier, there would have been a great many still travelling or reveling after the High King's wedding."

Deryn's grasp is accepted happily, and even held for a few seconds.

Dillion gives Isyld a solemn bow of the head in reply to her answer. "Thank you," he says. "No doubt it is difficult, being the font of information on…" he pauses, closes his eyes for a moment, sways momentarily in his saddle and grips the horn with his right hand. "On a day like this," he concludes lamely. A brief, acknowledging nod to Arian's mention of his state. "Thank you for your concern, but my bandages will keep for a time."

"And ruin your good tunic while they do," Dillion's squire adds, clopping off to find a place to keep their horses. "Oh dear oh dear."

The sorrow shown by Kamron turns to anger as he looks around the city, "If they've fled, then they're scattered." He nods sharply to Aluksander, "I'll have to talk to His Grace about hunting them down." Arian's brushing off the concerns for her safety causes him to roll his shoulders and frown, but he doesn't correct her, instead frowning at Deryn, "Is he in a shape to hunt Saxons? It might help, I should think." Pulling off his mail mitts, he hangs them over the front of his saddle, rubbing his face with both hands, "Newt," he addresses his gangly squire, "why don't you and the other squires," He looks to the other knights for permission, "take the prisoners up to the keep? We'll be along shortly."

Ffion nods solemnly to Kamron and doesn't seem affected by the news of the losses. Arian draws her attention. "Good. And thank you for the tip," she says with a little dip of her head. It's not difficult to find the worst off among them, but as service is refused, she hops down from her cart and approaches Sir Dillion, "And the last time you had them changed?"

Arian looks after Newt as the squire prepares to take the prisoners to the keep, and then she looks back at Kamron. "Not until you are healed, Sir Kamron," she says sternly, shaking her head slightly. "You do not go charging after Saxons when you have your own wounds to tend to." There is a solemn touch of affection there for the Dinton, though she clears her throat and looks away before she can get caught chiding the Dinton knight. Then she frowns slightly. "How have the other settlements fared? Have any of the manors been attacked?"

A tentative smile is given to Dillion, "I cannot even imagine. I do know my family has fared well at least, but our allies and friends…" her smile falters but she attempts to recall it only for a wry look to appear. Her eyes drop to bandages, if they are apparent, "It seems you were also injured. I was lucky." With a rueful twist of her lips, she offers, "Sir Isyld de Chalke," tipping her head forward in a polite gesture.

Glancing to the bucket in her hand, Deryn soon steps forwards, to offer some to Arian, "Fresh water? If you'd like some?" She's got a small metal cup to dip into the bucket to use to drink. "I don't know much else about Sir Perin… I think he went to his family's manor.. " That's all her knowledge. "I arrived with Sir Acwel and reinforcements from the Count just after the earlier battle outside of Sarum. I've been kept busy doing a few other things around the city after being injured while on the mission to Marlboro."

Aluksander nods to Arian's question. "Aye, some were, but I have not heard of any great battles; I think the main force was here at Sarum and there were only skirmishes elsewhere," he says. "Really, I don't think the entire scope of the incursion has been determined yet; information comes in daily with new reports. I think we should know better what all happened by the week's end, but as of yet, we're still in the recovery phase."

"The last time?" Dillion looks at Ffion and furrows his brow. "I… I can't quite… let me see, what time is it?" He looks up at the sky. "Ballick!" But his squire is already long gone. He goes a little greyer at the lapse of such an important memory - vanity, vanity, all is vanity, and so on. At any rate, it was long enough ago that the dust of the road is as thick on the visible patches of bandage as the rest of him.

Turning about to Isyld, Dillion's eyes do open a bit. "Chalke, you say? A pleasure, Sir Isyld; I am Sir Dillion. I daresay we have been in the same room, then; I am ashamed to have not recognized you at once." The sight of a properly (British) Christian neighbour in the midst of all this strangeness and horror bucks him up in his saddle. "I hope your family survived the battle whole."

Kamron shakes his head at Arian's concern, "I'm fine, Sir Arian." Stretching his left hip and hiding a grimace, he shrugs, "It barely hurts." A hint of a chuckle touches his throat, "Thank you for the concern though, it does you credit." Now he's just teasing her, although it's quiet and a little subdued. His lips press together as he considers the situation, "I didn't see a great deal of smoke from the other directions as we were coming in, so perhaps the damage was constrained to the southeastern sections of Salisbury." A worried glance is cast over to the Laverstock at that, for all that that manor is further east than south. Letting out a breath, he considers, "It's almost a shame to have missed a battle such as that, although at least we managed to make the north a little safer. And perhaps there is still more that we can do." He stops, then looks to Arian once more, "Once I am ready to travel."

Arian looks apologetic. "I am sorry, Sir Aluksander… I should know that… and should not expect you to know everything about these events." She breathes out a heavy sigh, twisting her horse's reins in her hands. She casts a dubious glance at Kamron at his attempt to persuade her that he is alright. She does not look convinced. She then sobers, nodding a bit at the inferences being made about the state of the other manors. "I'm sure that Trystan will be riding on to make sure Laverstock is alright, but I'm sure we would have heard more by now." At least, she hopes. She returns to her saddle now, fetching a waterskin. "Thank you, Sir Deryn… but I have some here… save it for those without." She offers the fellow Lady knight a small smile of thanks. She nurses the skin, allowing her thoughts to wander as she regards Sarum with thin, sorrowful lips.

"Sir Dillion," Isyld echoes softly, recognizing the name at least with a bit of an abashed smile. "A pleasure to be sure." She inclines her head, "So far as I have heard, they have, I have not heard from my brother as of yet, but I have been spending the bulk of my time in Wilton." She looks to Kamron and Arian, "If you would like someone to go with you on any excursions, please count me in your numbers."

"Well. That means too long ago," Ffion murmurs as she inspects the bandaging done without undoing all of the work, yet that is. "If you wish, I can give it a go right here or you can march yourself to triage." There is no third option for Sir Dillion, at least how Lady Ffion is painting it. "You do not want sickness to set in." She has to crane her neck a little to address him while being close enough to inspect, causing slight purse to her lips.

"You look as if you could use some just as much as others." Deryn offers to Arian, though nods to the other lady knight when she takes up her waterskin. The others are offered drinks, a hint of a smile to touch her lips at hearing Ffion take to Dillion about his injuries. "Sounds like you should listen to the healer, sir." A half tease is given to the other knight, humor attempted to ease the doom and gloom that all might feel in that moment.

Dillion presses his lips together at Ffion's attention, making them even whiter than usual. "The Lord would not preserve me on the field only to take me with the wind," he declares, but the objection is slightly pro-forma. With a grunt of pained exertion he slings himself off his saddle, manages to hit the ground without wincing, and submits to Ffion's attention. "If you have none in urgent peril, however, cleanliness is its own reward."

While dealing with that unpleasant business, Dillion looks back at Isyld, smiling, nodding. "If he had met trouble, I am sure you would have been told. Sir… I forget his name, but a man of such a house would be counted quickly in any company."

So wrapped-up in conversation is he - and light-headed - that it takes a moment for Dillion to catch the meaning of Deryn's light mockery. "If we listened to healers without thought, lady, the Saxons would have to carry us from our sickbeds to find their sport!" But his tone is light.

Kamron nods to Isyld, "Excellent. Another strong axe-arm would certainly be welcome." Shrugging a little helplessly — and wincing again — he adds, "Assuming that His Grace allows it." He accepts the dipper from Deryn, leaning out of his saddle to take it. Sipping, he lets out a relieved breath, "Thank you. The smoke was drying me out." Looking back down to Arian, he adds in, "I'm certain that Laverstock is fine, Sir Arian. And that Sir Trystan will send word back to where you are recuperating here as soon as he can."

Aluksander nods to Arian's response. "No apology needed; had I more news, I would gladly share it. I am sorry that I don't," he says. As Deryn's water is denied, he reaches for the cup, then, having let others turn down the offer first. He takes a drink, downing the entire cup in one tilt, before returning it to the bucket and running his hand through his long hair. Hair which is no longer its usual, lustrous blonde, but quite dirty and dingy from all of the smoke and toil. He sighs, then, looking back to the fence he had been minding the repairs on and the workers there. And then they're joking about healers? Aluksander frowns distinctly, looking between Deryn and Dillion, though he holds his tongue. No sense in making anyone feel worse, at the moment, if it could be helped, regardless of his own lack of humor.

Arian does not seem comforted by either knights' words, but she offers a small nod to Aluksander and Kamron. She stows away her waterskin, shaking her head slightly as she looks back around the market. "Yes… and here is where I'm going to stay…" She then looks back toward Dillion and Deryn, listening to the pair about healing, and then she offers a wry smile. "Knights? Listening to healers? Gods, I have never experienced such a miracle."

The water is shared with those that want it before the bucket is turned to those workers on the fence. Deryn laughs quietly in return to Dillion's tease back, the smile growing at Arian's addition, "Indeed.. some would say it'd be the end of the world the day we knights listen to a healer…. completely." Even she knows she's pushed a healer's words here and there, though she does glance to Aluksander, likely taking note of his frown.

"I am not implying he would do anything less than that," Ffion says with much intonation, though her expression betrays that she is focused to task, rather than emotion. "One moment. Just, stay there." Ffion turns and hesitates in her movement, having to halt herself from hopping up onto a wheel spoke given she's dressed in a treacherous bliant. She sighs at taking the 'long way' and is quick to pull at a sack. Yes, she's treating him from a sack. She returns with a corked beetle green bottle and fresh dressings, which she has draped over her forearm. "Is there any fresh water left?" she inquires of the group as she simultaneously scans about.

Aluksander doesn't say anything to Deryn, though he does notice her glance at him. He purses his lips and fights the scowl, but doesn't manage to erase it entirely, apparently intent on being the grouchy gus in the group. He folds his arms across his chest and glowers to himself, though he doesn't say anything further, managing to keep his grumpiness to himself. There's enough things to be upset about, no need for him to add to it.

"Well, I believe you need to find a balance between what the healers want and what our duty requires." Kamron glances up toward the keep as the squires come back at a trot, "There has to be something we can do in the short-term." Besides actually lifting up boards and the like, because that sort of thing isn't done by knights. Drawing in a low breath and coughing roughly as he inhales a bit too much smoke, the Dinton shakes his head, "This is horrible, but I'm very glad that the defenders of the city came through in the end. I can only imagine the chaos and destruction if the defense and been cracked."

"If indeed he will, you may count me among your ranks." Isyld repeats with a half smile. Her squire comes up and murmurs something to her, she gives a nod, "If you would all excuse me, I am needed, my cousin is requesting me." A dip of her head and a friendly smile. "I will be in Sarum, Sir Kamron, Sir Arian, should you need me." Another look given to Dillion, "Sir Kylan, I am sure had he found trouble, I would have heard, thank you for the vote of confidence. Be well." A nod given to Deryn and the healer as well before she walks off with her squire.

Arian breathes out a heavy sigh, and she shakes her head slightly. "I should go see to some rest before we see the Earl." Her gaze wanders over toward Kamron, and she offers him a small smile. "Let me know if you are heading back to Dinton, Sir Kamron… I have a letter for your sister that she has been waiting for." She also nods slightly to the others, particularly to Isyld as she starts to say her own farewells. She starts to lead her horse off.

Dillion gives Isyld a polite nod as she retires, and glances over his shoulder as he senses a scowl. He frowns, back, thinking too hard, tottering on his feet. As he waits for Ffion's return, the knight gives Deryn a small, acknowledging smile. "The last healer to tend to me did not need me to listen, as I was quite insensible. However, she did improve my condition, so I find myself feeling conciliatory." That conciliatory feeling, however, does fade a bit when Ffion returns, with sack, and Dillion gives it a short look. "Is this quite necessary?" he asks, standing on his dignity to the extent he can stand at all.

"Good eve'n to you, then, Sirs," Aluksander says to Arian and Isyld as they prepare to depart. Then, he looks to Kamron, frowning a bit more. "While I agree that, in times of peace, the construction and maintenance of fortifications is not the work of a knight, in times such as these, it is best that any who are able to attend, /do/. It is far better for me to help mend a fence, repair a wall, or clear debris than to stand idly by. And since I've the time and energy to spare, far better for me to spend it hammering a nail than beating my fists against a wall, until such a time as I can beat them against a Saxon," he says.

Deryn turns when the call is made for water, excusing herself from the men at the wall to approach Ffion and Dillion, "There's some in here, gathered from the well.." Cool and clean it is, thankfully, if one doesn't mind the few cups of water taken out to be drunk by those knights about them. She holds her words, though one might have the impression that hse agrees with Aluksander, for all that it might matter at the moment.

Kamron gestures up toward the Keep as Arian begins to excuse herself, "I'll ride with you, Sir Arian. There are, rather unfortunately, probably a great many open beds for a rest, and I should get the prisoners settled in. And then you can pass along the letter. I'll make sure it gets to Wen, although I am distinctly curious about the contents." He nods to Isyld, "Thank you for the offer, Sir Isyld. I will certainly let you know what the Earl says." Aluksander gets a nod, "You may be right, Sir. But I think that I might focus on a vengeance that cannot be gained by a carpenter."

"You may be curious as much as you like, Sir Kamron, but it will be up to her whether or not she shares the contents." The Pagan smiles gently as she starts to head off with the Dinton beside her. She looks over her shoulder toward the others before she focuses on the path ahead to find a bed — or a place to unroll her bedroll.

"Maybe if you like your arm," Ffion mumbles wryly, in oddly good humor. "Sir, I am just changing your dressing, but yes it is necessary and important. There is a purity that must be maintained." She turns to Deryn and offers a small smile and nod. "Thank you." Then she gets to work. She has about as much sureness in her fingers as a hunter out field dressing their quarry. "I know this isn't the best part," she mentions as she gets to the last layer of bandages. Perhaps out of pity, she does check to see if any of the bandage has fused to the wound site. Fast slow, it would hurt just the same, only one takes longer.

"May I?" Dillion asks Deryn as the water comes. "It has been a dusty ride." He doesn't seem to mind getting to the water late in line, but then nor does he notice anybody's attitude towards his irreverant attitude towards the healers. He notices relatively little, until Ffion starts to remove old bandages. The injury below his left shoulder is both severe enough and recent enough that just removing the outer layers makes him flinch for an involuntary instant, though fortunately the healer on the site did a sufficiently masterful job that none of the fabric has dried into the nasty, jagged spear-thrust that must have come within an ace of ending him.

Unarmored, dressed in a black tunic and black breeches with dusty brown boots that have seen better days, Evae enters the market. Her golden hair is pulled back in a braid but it wraps around to create a sort of decoration across the crown of her head. A sword sheathed at her side marks her as a knight, but she is lacking heraldry to identify her house. Some may recognize her though, as Winterbourne Stoke, simply because she was well traveled during her squire years and recently knighted. Fresh faced, taller than some, she hasn't quite got a squire yet, but it was in the works! As she notices the gathering, she approaches, offering a solemn sort of greeting, noticing the healer working on the bandages and taking interest in it. "You were injured by the Saxons as well?" The question asked of Dillion, though the healer and those surrounding are given a smile.

Aluksander frowns after Kamron as the other knight departs, his arms not uncrossing for several seconds. Finally, he just scoffs and shakes his head, moving to give Deryn a brief hug from behind. He'll also plant a kiss on the top of her head, before turning back towards the men working on the fence. "Much as it might be below me, I'm going to go help finish what I started. I'll see you before I retire, love?" he asks of Deryn. Dillion and Ffion get a raised hand and a nod as he backs away towards the east entrance.

"Certainly, take what you want.." Deryn says to Dillion when he requests a cup of water, the knight to hold the bucket for he and the healer to use. She watches as Ffion unbandges the knight's injury, wincing just a small bit when it's uncovered. When hugged from behind, she turns, smiling to Aluksander, nodding, "I will see you later, yes.."

Dillion catches a question and turns, very slowly, careful to disturb neither the healer working on his bandages nor his wounds themselves. "The Saxons?" he asks, somewhat slowly, through his white lips and greying face. "No, I was away to the north, with others, trailing an infandous murderer. One of his band of wretches wielded a spear and was no gentleman." He pauses long enough to take a cup of water from Deryn and drink it deep, using only his right hand. Then he takes another, and that disappears no less quickly.

"By God's will," Dillion finishes, his voice a bit heartier with refreshment, "we did prevail, though."

As Aluksander gets back to work overseeing the fence repair, Deryn offers the water as needed to Dillion until the other knight has had his fill. "Would that be those that murdered Sir Hadyn here?" She asks, curious. Still she watches the healer, seeming curious to what the woman does.

"Oh good a salve was applied," Ffion thinks aloud. She looks over towards Aluksander and nods, both hands occupied. Assuming that what Dillion wants the water for is completely different than what she does, Ffion watches the bucket like a hawk. She has made a little pile of the old dressings at her feet. "That sounds like a tale to be told." She /is/ listening! Her hands work nimbly and first she starts with the water. Taking a moment, she surveys the wound, then looks at the bucket, then the wound. Without looking, she grabs the bucket and begins to pour it evenly to wash everything away, careful to keep it close enough so as to not damage anything further, but far enough away to make sure it does its work.

While everyone goes about their work, Evae continues to watch the healer, the water being poured over gets a brief wince and she looks to the face of the recipient, curious to how sore the wound was. She doesn't question it, but listens about it being a non-Saxon. "I had heard Earl Robert sent a band of people to seek him out. I trust it was successful then?" A glance is given to the departing knight and the woman he had kissed, but mostly she watches the healer's hands working.

Dillion nods at Deryn, and jerks his head slightly when Ffion starts to clean that well-cared-for wreck of a wound. "They… -would- be," he says with the emphasis of a clenched jaw, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. "The story could have been better, for our approach was noticed before our plans could take place. Yet his guard fell in short order, and he threw his last followers upon us to fight his way out. A vain hope. None of our true Christian knights," not quite accurate, but he's not to know that, "fell, and the villain taken alive to face the Earl's justice."

A momentary pause, and Dillion adds, "The sight of what happened in Sarum when we were away… it takes some of the luster away. Man's villainy never sleeps, and there are too few valorous hands to meet it."

Deryn doesn't comment on his words about Christian knights, but merely nods her head before handing the bucket over to Ffion, "If you need more, I'll send a squire to the well?" That said aside to the healer as she begins to wash off the wound, pouring th water over his skin. Back to the story, she hmms, "Good to hear, that the man was brought back.. I do not begin to understand what happened. I heard rumors that he kept calling him by another name." Shaking her head, she soon turns, to peer at the fence repairs, "It was a shock to see the forces when we rode into view of Sarum. Glad we'd managed to convince the northern Count to give us some help."

"There were.. deaths here." Evae offers, glancing towards the gate, lifting her arms to wrap them around herself. "I heard there was a Burcombe who lost his life. As well as Aeryn." Tilting her head, she regards Dillion somewhat seriously, "You should never diminish anything you've done. You have brought a murderer to justice. It doesn't mean there aren't others who would kill the innocent." Another look towards the gate and she gives a mental shake to herself as she looks once more to the healer. "Can I help you with anything? I have a little experience also."

"Thank you," Ffion says without taking her eyes off of her work. Once the water has washed through the wound, she gently pulls his hand down further so she can inspect the wound, doing her diligence. "Good," she mumbles, not noticing the onlooking eyes. For all of the verbal and attitudinal thrift, the woman has a warm decisive touch, perhaps a saving grace for her bedside manner so far. Once satisfied with her inspection, she reaches for the green bottle and lifts it to her lips to receive a whisper. Her eyes are closed and then they are open in a flash as she frees the cork and starts to coat the wound in salve. The scent is herbaceous. "A Burcombe? Do you know who his immediate kin are?" Why a Roman Christian Lady would be asking this is probably a mystery in and of itself.

"I missed the villainy myself," Dillion says to Deryn, giving another small cringe at the healer's water but managing not to flinch, "perhaps just as well, with how roughly his lackey handled me. But he and his men had seized a manor to the north, up the Avon, and its lord lay dead within." He lowers his eyes, shakes his head, but conspicuously keeps his gaze away from his wounded side, letting Ffion apply her salve. "When the Devil takes a man so…" he closes his eyes, crossing himself though his hand only hovers over his injured left breast.

Eyes still closed, Dillion adds in reply to Evae, "In the field, after the deed, I confess I succumbed to self-reproach and… well, the less said the better." His eyes open again. "But you are quite right. I did my share, and my mistakes burn in me, but they will make my arm all the steadier next time."

"Sir Maelgwyn." The name is supplied to Evae and Ffion, "Twin brother to Sir Rozenn? Cousins to the main line." This she knows, it would seem. Quiet is she, though she soon steps back, "If you will excuse me, I should get back to my own patrols and overseeing the water delivery."

"Sir Maelgwyn, yes. And my sister Aeryn." Evae nods to Deryn, "I should also get back soon." The healer and the Bishopstone seemed to have everything else well in hand. Looking at the latter, she nods, "I have seen it before in the fields. Normal men become violent with rage and self reproach. I hope you were able to overcome it easily." A glance is given towards the gate and the work there. "I will go and make myself useful, it was a pleasure seeing you all." A respectful nod given.

This news, for some reason, causes the Stapleford to go completely still for a moment, penetrating that seemingly unflappable concentration. Then, as if nothing happened, a moment later she hurriedly finishes applying the salve. As for the bandaging portion, she's careful not to make it too tight, but seems to be much quicker about this work, maneuvering the bandages as efficiently as possible. It isn't long before she stoops to pick up the dirtied old bandages without much fanfare. "Just make sure you check it okay?"

As the conversation turns towards casualties taken rather than those given Dillion goes quieter, eyes downcast, wavering slightly on his feet as his wound is bandaged, wincing even at what tightness is required for its purpose. "Thank you," he says, softly. "I certainly shall." He glances around at the company, at the marred town of Sarum, and rubs his face, lightly, with his good right hand. "But I pray you shall excuse me. I should… see to my horses." A nod to each of those present, and off he walks, none-too-easily, eyes sticking in front of him.

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