Caleb's Journey

Dinner with guests

Soon the time for dinner came, and just like at Victor IV’s, palace everyone inside sat according to rank and station. The nobles, officers, and guests dined in the great hall. As for the thousands of soldiers stationed in the fortress, the courtyard served as their dining area. Soldiers lined up in orderly with their bowls in their hands. Cooks filled those bowls, like every other day, with a paste like gruel containing a paltry portion of vegetables, a whisper of beef, and a small crust of bread to sop up the soup. This sufficed to meet their needs for nourishment. Every one of them also enjoyed a bit of ale from the alehouse contained within the fortress walls. The aroma of ale hung in the air as the casks were wheeled out by the brewers on horse drawn carts, as if to parade the goods around before sharing them with the cheering, gathered throng.

The encampment had the substance and flavor of a tiny, self-contained, solitary city. Varied areas of Attalis, with the daily duties done, took on a more festive tone. As the troops dined and whiled away the evening numerous forms of entertainment took shape; puppet practitioners, jugglers, fire eaters, tumblers, story tellers, minstrels, all showed their skills and drew crowds. Hired by the king for this purpose they competed, and won, against the soldiers who performed their amateur acts; the man who could belch louder and for a greater duration than anyone, a man who told bawdy jokes, some who performed feats of strength, others danced, but to name a few of the unique talents on display. All of these performers gave the vigilant minds of the soldiers a temporary distraction from the grim reality that they formed the first line of defense against a potential horde of malicious invaders.

Inside the fortress, in the great dining hall, the assembled group had a less jubilant nature. A somber Lord Lestrade sat at the highest position, the dais, at the same table as a sour faced Sir Samsuran. The duo dined on viands of spiced sausages, made from the hogs that occupied pens in the courtyard, plates of fish caught from a nearby stream, a beef filled pastry with a rich, flaky crust, root vegetables, a bowl filled with luscious fruits such as crisp apples, ripe pears, all complimented with fine wine made from the grapes harvested from the surrounding fields.

Knights filled the next lowest level of tables, which befit their station in the social order. A nearly equal variety of foodstuffs lay spread before them. All they wanted compared to their superiors was the rarest of sustenance for the inland group, salted fish. Their choice of fruits was also less. They attacked their meal with ravenous desire, especially the knights that had ridden on the quest, Sir Kyme in particular, for it had been some time since they enjoyed such a feast.

Finally, on the lowest level were placed the officers and the remainder of the troop traveling with Lord Lestrade. Caleb knew the rules and accepted his place. This level of separation failed to sit well in Malachael’s mind. “At the monastery we all ate the same meal from the same tables,” he commented to the priestess. “Neither rank nor station nor the luck of birth dictated where we sat. It created a feeling of mutual respect and harmony.”

“

The same at my temple remarked,” Candellah remarked.

“

Tigans eat alone or with other small groups of tigans,” said Seth Kitarn.

“

It only shows your lack of civility,” Alari thought, for she still harbored some distrust for Seth and tigans in general.

These people received a lesser offering, a beef and vegetable stew, loaves of bread, and the same type of ale that was served to the soldiers. Nobody complained for those who would, such as Malachael, knew that the men stationed outside received a culinary concoction of an inferior nature to that upon which they supped.

On the dais Sir Samsuran continued to press upon Lord Lestrade to provide him with more details of his adventure. “Come milord tell me please where your journey yet takes you? Men such as we, members of the same brotherhood, shouldn’t have secrets. Whatever you tell me, won’t leave this table. Unburden your mind.”

“

To places beyond this castle wall,” Lord Lestrade dryly replied.

Sir Samsuran still needled him, “True enough, but you’ve never visited this part of our realm. I have been here for years and have traversed the terrain with soldiers and cartographers. If you give me the particulars I might be able to render you assistance.”

Ever one to politely and deftly evade verbal queries, Lord Lestrade employed a non-sequitur, “The weather in this area seems a bit warmer than the Luminous city. I wonder if I shouldn’t return once my little jaunt ends. A bit of respite in a warmer clime might do me a bit of good.”

After decades spent in both court life and combat, Sir Samsuran remained undeterred. Unfazed, he scratched his grayed, grizzled chin, sipped his wine, his thin sharp lips pressed tightly against the golden goblet, and took in a big draught. If Lord Lestrade wished to brush him aside, he had better do it with a brusque or direct action, he thought. Otherwise, he felt like the subtle attempt employed by Lord Lestrade to push the subject in a new direction was like trying to put out an inferno with a baby’s breath.

The keen eyes that he possessed had taught him how to read the face of a man and see, as well as anyone can, into the heart of that man. Years ago, he detested Lord Lestrade, with just cause, in his estimation. Having triumphed over those feelings of resentment, he placed the blame of his present situation squarely up the shoulders of his king for being so fickle. Sir Samsuran shared his frustrations equally for the order to which he had pledged eternal fealty. He enjoyed knights, just not the order as he once had. Putting him in what he felt a cell and leaving him on the edge of civilization to rot in said prison for one failing had jaded him.

Without malice he resumed his questioning, “Lord Lestrade, we’ve known each other for years and I am simply trying to render you assistance. Perhaps I can offer you a detachment of soldiers or a few of my knights. Outside these walls lurk monsters, roving bands of ogres, and who knows what other types of unfriendly creatures.”

“

Thank you, but no. I have all of the soldiers I require and a map to my destination.” Lord Lestrade had no desire to place himself into a position of feeling that he owed Sir Samsuran anything. He even viewed their meal and visit to this fortress as a right, not something of a more hospitable nature.

“

Oh, you have a map,” Sir Samsuran smirked. “How did you come to possess it? Every cartographer and detachment I’ve sent out together have never returned. May I see your map?”

Lord Lestrade gave him a sharp look, “No, you may not. It was richly purchased with the lives of good knights whose loss I mourn, men like Sir Otho. Now if you will excuse me, I wish to return to my chambers. My grief makes we weary. I thank you for the meal.” Sir Samsuran disliked being brushed aside, but he also breathed a sigh of relief at Lord Lestrade’s departure for once again his fortress seemed like his own. All of the remaining host seemed to echo that sentiment and enjoyed a great degree of revelry, minus the other guests who were fatigued, or forbade themselves of such pleasure. However, those who lived for pleas

ure, Seth Kitarn being one of them indulged themselves to their heart’s content. Tigans shorter life spans, 40-50 years on average, made them eager to drink in, figuratively and sometimes literally

, all that life has to offer. Sir Samsuran ordered minstrels to appear and the evening wore on for the revelers until the wee hours of the morning.

This morning the sun rose, as it did every day, and shone its rays down onto Attalis. The rays arrived too early for some, such as Seth Kitarn, who was found snoring away the morning by Caleb, who had come to retrieve his erstwhile companion.

“

Long night my friend?” Caleb asked.

Seth snarled, “Longest night in a while, but what fun. Who knew a member of the Honor Guard enjoyed libations so greatly. We had a blast! Not all knights are propped up blowhards!”

Caleb entered his room and doused him with a bit of water. Both of them laughed, “I’m just trying to wash off the stench of ale. Come, we have to meet up with Lord Lestrade and the others.”

“

Aye,” a somewhat annoyed Seth growled.

Soon the entire visiting host was assembled, with horses refreshed. Saddlebags were filled with foodstuffs. Water and wineskins were replenished. Lord Lestrade gave Sir Samsuran a proper courtly bow and good-bye. The commander of the fortress ordered the gates opened and the troop headed out to heretofore unknown lands.