Carack

Carack Ch3 revised and complete

Chapter 3    Netherzoyland

Gerent awoke hoping to find himself at home in bed but instead found himself looking up at the heavily embroidered canopy of a large four-poster bed, he felt warm and comfortable, even his arm had ceased to ache. Gerent sat up and gazed around the room to see if he could work out where he was now. The room was panelled in wood apart from the external stone wall where there were two tall, diamond paned windows, which let the sunlight flood into the room. The curtains and drapes were of the same heavy fabric as the bed and all the furniture was all massive and made of dark wood. It spoke to Gerent of money, ‘whoever owned this lot was pretty well off’, he thought. He decided to see what was outside and sliding out of bed he went over to the windows, he was dressed in a long nightgown, which he found somewhat amusing as he wouldn’t be seen dead in something like it at home. With his arm held across his chest in a sling he leant on the windowsill and looked out at the view, it stretched away for miles before him. The scene immediately below him was the rooves of town houses descending a hillside, then the ground levelled out to form a plain where he could see rivers, fields, covered with patches of the flooding and clusters of buildings. In the far distance he could see a small, solitary hill rising from out of the plain, topped by a single tree and beyond that, so far off he could only just make it out, lay a ridge of hills, blue in the distance.

‘Yes, Lord that is the place from which you came to us,’ a well manicured male voice came from behind him, Gerent turned swiftly to see a tall thin man dressed in an embroidered knee length tunic, he had black hair pulled back into a pigtail with a thin, oiled moustache over thin drawn lips. He brought an aroma of honeysuckle into the room with him, sickly sweet and yet Gerent felt he wanted to smell it forever.  He bowed to Gerent:

‘Lord Hugh, I am honoured to meet you, forgive the method of your arrival, I had planned such celebrations to welcome you to my castle, I have dealt with that idiot I sent to greet you. I can only apologise for entrusting this important mission to such a one, I was deceived as to his capabilities, next time I will send one of my knights to greet you. And now perhaps you would like to dress and join us for breaking the fast? I have taken the liberty of placing some clothing at your disposal, you will find a selection within this closet and Trent, my servant will await you outside to escort you to our break of fast table.’ The man placed his palms together in front of his chest, as if in prayer, bowed to Gerent and began to back out of the room.

‘Thanks,’ said Gerent as the door closed, he looked into the wardrobe and found several tunics similar to the man’s own, he pulled one out and, with difficulty, began to dress. He thought about the man he had just seen, his voice was measured, musical almost and it felt as though each sentence had been carefully phrased, Gerent supposed it must be Madron. He wondered what the man had meant by ‘next time’. Once Gerent had dressed, he gazed down at himself in despair, good job none of his mates could see him wearing a skirt he thought. Gerent ventured out into the corridor and was escorted downstairs by the manservant waiting outside his door for him, he did not know that one of those he was about to meet would prove to be a deadly attraction for him. He was led down a grand stone staircase across a vast hall with a vaulted ceiling and through several richly furnished rooms before being led out onto a terrace that overlooked the sea. There a fresh salty breeze, coming in from the coast, relieved what would have been a very sticky heat, made all the thicker by the vast climbing honeysuckle, which was in full bloom and covered a large portion of the castle wall. Gerent saw a long table laid out for three, but, he thought as he surveyed the pastries, fruit and cold meats which filled it, covered in enough food for thirty-three. Madron rose from his seat at the head of the table and, on his right, a girl of about Gerent’s age also rose to greet him. Tern placed him in a seat opposite the girl and just briefly glancing at her Gerent became very aware of her; he drew in and held his breath momentarily, to him she was perfect. Her hair, which cascaded down over her shoulders, was icy blonde, it shone and almost glittered in the sun, her eyes were wide and hinted at a violet blue, her skin was flawless, clear and slightly tanned so it looked like honey. None of the girls he knew back home looked remotely as good as she did, her figure just astounded him and he felt himself snap his jaw shut as Madron’s voice caused Gerent to jerk his attention away from her.