Thread: A Mother's Trials (Tesora & Greeneyed23)

Nathan Eckert was still as a bone. He was high in a tree his eyes locked on a large buck. He waited and waited and waited. He had had to learn to hunt by himself. None of the so called teachers were any good at it and none of the so called men who tried to take he trusted and his damn father was dead. The bastard. His sister Cathy was no help either. She only wanted pretty dresses and boys and he couldn't get her to focus on anything else. He slowly let out his breath as he drew back the string of his bow which had an impressive eighty pound pull. Nathan had inherited his father's incredible strength but he always put it to his own inherent strength and skills rather than anything from his absent father. He let the arrow loose and it buried itself into the buck's side and punched a large hole all the way through to the other side, going right through the heart. Nathan smirked as the beast fell. No other seven year old could fell a three year old buck by themselves. He wished he could show this to his dead father. ------------------------- Roland did not even know his son existed, nor did he know the troubles his beloved wife was enduring. He had assumed that though she was far too beautiful for Wessex she had chosen and loved Roland, and had remained a relatively unknown personage, not due to her lack of skill or ability but due to her own lack of ambition. Who could know of her? Besides she had to know he would come to her. Even know he studied the metal etching of her in his locket and smiled stroking the image then kissed it. My dear Elizabeth...perhaps someday soon. He stood off his cot and stepped out of his tent. December in the Middle East is truly nothing to enjoy. it is overcast, bitterly cold at night, and often leads to a number of angry skirmishes between the various sects. Including the one he was guarding now. Muslims, Christians, Jews, and even several other pilgrims were all going to the Holy City Jerusalem for one reason or another. Roland studied the sleeping people with a rather cold eye. Tall even for an Englishman and built along the lines of a castle tower with powerful yet lean muscle covering his body, scars from his many battles all over his flesh, including his face, where a rather jagged zigzagging line dragged from his right eyebrow down other his eye to just above his lip. Another curved from the corner of his left eye around along his cheek bone halting an inch away from his nose, which had been broken so often it had lost a large portion of it's thickness and was much straighter now. He was in his order's colors and festooned with weapons. He had four swords two short broadswords on his hips with battle daggers above them both, while massive long blades were crisscrossed on his back while two more battle daggers were held in blade below them. he had throwing knives, daggers, a longbow and matching arrows, and a few dozen others on him at all times. His long black hair and beard hung everywhere falling to the middle of his back and chest. He studied the sky and gave a long sniff and pulled on his gauntlets then tapped his metal fingers against his breastplate. His adjutant looked over and with only a look nodded and lit his torch. The archers drew arrows and started looking for the trouble. ------------------ William might have finally been sated for the night. Constance was truly a gifted lady and always pleased him well, while David always filled him perfectly. Now he was flopped in his throne wearing only his dressing gown watching Matthew, Sara, Caleb, and Portia striving to please him with a show of their bodies and sex. He chuckled and nudged his steward. Think Elizabeth would enjoy this? I highly doubt it Sire. He grunted. You're probably right...still when she marries me she will have to do what I want. Of course Sire. Too bad about Roland. I heard he was an impressive man. I wouldn't know Sire. -------------------------------- Roland sheathed his blades silently after flinging the blood off. The attackers had been hardline extremist separatists and this but the latest in their attacks Roland and his order had fended off. Roland was beyond sick of it. By his count there had been two hundred of them this time, though he had five hundred of his finest guarding these ten thousand pilgrims. He didn't like the numbers but his order was not yet large. He was truly tired of this. He had recruited more than ten thousand members into the order that guarded the entire coast line and most of the Holy Land itself personally, had been leading pilgrims to Jerusalem almost weekly even before the city fell, and was constantly fighting to protect them and the new Kingdom of Jerusalem. He wanted to go home. I'm asking to go home again. His adjutant nodded. You should. You look tired milord. Roland nodded. Tired of fighting. Tired of killing. Tired of all the politics. His adjutant nodded agreed. I agree milord. Fortunately I can just go home whenever I want. I wish you could too. Thank you Ishim. You are a fine man. He grinned. Even for a Muslim. It was their inside joke which was finished by, And you fight well for a Christian milord. The joke was old as Ishim had been Roland first's friend upon arriving in the Holy Land and only a few hundred of the several thousand men Roland recruited had been Christian. The Muslims that had joined him wished for a change in the rules concerning access to Jerusalem, and also wished protection and to serve their people. It had amazed the other Christians that proved so true until they learned that the governor of the city had decided that only certain religious leaders could enter the city. Now the Muslims and Jews shared the Holy Places as best they could with the Christians and protected by the Knights Hospitaller in all things, currently led by their Grandmaster Blessed Gerard and in military affairs Grandmaster Roland Eckert. Of course they had yet to be confirmed by the Vatican meaning they officially did not yet exist nor did they truly use such titles but Gerard had insisted in honoring his friend with the title. Roland grunted watching the pilgrims struggle to return to rest. These people really do make me laugh. I admire their zeal but their lack of reality troubles me. Everything for some rocks that Christ may have walked on? For a destroyed and desecrated Temple... what do they gain by seeing these? Ishim smiled. Closure milord. Just as you will when you return home. I suppose so. Still... Ishim laughed. I understand milord. It is hard to separate yourself in such matters.