Not for the first time Sir Dalan is endlessly grateful he married a wife with a quick mind not just beauty. The game and what follows are exactly what he needs right now, letting him push the worries and troubles and responsibilities away for a time.

God, he loves this woman!

After bathing her husband and ensuring that he is properly attired for his vigil, Ellowyn wistfully bids Sir Dalan goodbye with a kiss.  She then gets ready herself, although she is not looking forward to the feast without her mate's presence.

Spring Tournament (516 AD) Second Day

Sir Dalan returns to the arena, where Sir Lamorak's body has been washed and prepared.  It is lying on a low table surrounded by a ring of torches.  There is a small fire off to one side and spare wood and torches.  There is also a carafe of water.

In reply to Ellowyn (msg # 116):

Sir Dalan returns the kiss and smiles at his wife. "I'll miss you to, but I must honour a great fallen knight and do my duty for own noble lord." His smile broadens a little and he teasingly adds: "At least I shall not be at risk in the melee my love?"

Another kiss, this one a gentler one. "Enjoy yourself my love. Please give Sir Perin my congratulations. I am proud to have such a man as my friend."

Sir Dalan arrives. After looking at the noble knight in repose Sir Dalan kneels in prayer for the man, for his family and his master the King.

Standing up, he looks at Sir Lamorak sadly. "I am sorry I never knew you brother, but I knew enough to know a great man sleeps now. May you go to your reward in the hereafter good sir knight, thy weary tasks are done."

With a sigh he takes up his post.

Sir Dalan offers up a prayer for the fallen (Check in Pious) before taking up his post.  There is not much to do, although there is a fairly steady stream of mourners who stop by to pay their respects.  The numbers trail off as the feast starts and soon enough he is left alone once more.

The sun sets and it is very peaceful in the twilight after the sun has gone but there is still enough light to see clearly.  Soon enough, that light is gone and the stars begin to show up.  It is a beautiful evening, with a smattering of bats flying overhead, swooping and diving as they catch insects.

Sir Dalan thinks back to other brushes with death, his own and others'.  Although he dispatched the panther with no problem, it seems an unlucky break could have left him the one on the slab.  Or the boar last summer, had it gored him instead of the Earl.  Sir Caradwg beaten by the giant Sangnoir, Sir Tyngyr killed by the Barquest, Sir Wulfric killed by Sir Dencile.  And these were just the closest of those he had known who died in the last couple of years at the hands of beast and men.

Sir Dalan sings softly to himself, or to Sir Lamorak, or perhaps even the bats.

"Does the stag running through the glades,
Know only hunter's horn and hound's bark,
And spring blindly on in from man's blades,
That fear alone in a mind small and dark,

Or is his soul and heart made of finer gold,
That long gone days still cast their glow,
Of being antlered king of his forest bold,
By ancient oaks grow and clear streams flow,

A gallant knight is like the silver moon,
Beloved by all lovers and dreamers true,
And yet must away it seems all to soon,
His time so short, his hours so few,

Yet still we should say: here a knight last rode by,
In song and tale his glory and name shall not die."


It is a lonely enough place, but there is no little beauty here and life enough if one cares to look. Sir Dalan looks - or at least tries to look - not on the tragedy of the knight's death, but on the glory and beauty of his life. Perhaps he wonders only a commoner born like himself could know how wondorous it was to be a knight, if only for too short a seaon.

The bats seem to enjoy the song, whether or not it was for them.  It's faint echos still dancing in Sir Dalan's head when a few last mourners stop by at the end of the feast.  Then, it is quiet once more.  To some, the quiet and stillness would be oppressive.  Sir Dalan finds them calming.  It is a good time and place to reflect on where he has been.

The knight thinks back to his youth, not so long ago.  When he saw knights and lords and wondered at their fine clothing, weapons, and mounts.  He imagined himself in a palace surrounded by servants and beautiful ladies.  Now, a scant decade later he is closer to that imagined future than he ever seriously thought that he would be.

The night grows darker and colder.  It is probably past midnight by now and still Sir Dalan maintains his post.  It is a boring task to be sure but his thoughts keep him company and he stays awake and alert.

Sir Dalan gets a check in Singing and in Energetic.

Stretching his legs and rubbing his hands together to keep his blood flowing Sir Dalan thought of his lovely wife. Truthfully he felt a touch guilty leaving her to face the rest of the festivities alone. Hopefully the Princess would take sympathy there.

Unavoidably Sir Dalan found himself thinking more on Sir Lamorak. Even with everything, it still seemed impossible so great a knight could die in peacetime. It brought back echoes of the late Earl of Cardiff. Clearly bravery in itself was not enough, and given how much he had to live for Sir Dalan would have to learn his limits. He'd seek out his father-in-law and train under than old soldier. One did not become a marshal - or be appointed an earl - on strength of arm alone.

His thoughts turn to gallant Sir Perin. As much as Sir Dalan is uncertain about the Countess Fiona, his brother knight and friend had defeated the lion. A very great knight that one!

The night wears on.  Sir Dalan replaces the torches as they start to sputter, tossing the used ones into the fire.  He warms his hands above the flames to keep warm, or stands with his back to it.  Off in the distance he hears a low shriek as a mouse somewhere is caught by an owl, invisible in the darkness the talons must have come out of nowhere and in a flash, the mouse was dead.

Is that what happened to Sir Lamorak?  Or Lord Merdoc?  There and then gone as the icy scythe of the Grim Reaper took them.  Will that be his fate as well?  Or will he see it coming, have some chance to prepare, to fight back?

The mind does funny things in the dark, alone.  As he warms his back by the fire he sees movement out of the corner of his eye.  Looking he sees a piar of pale eyes looking back at him.  The eyes move and as they come into the firelight, Sir Dalan sees that it is a wolf, padding silently on its soft paws.

It approaches the circle of torches but does not pass them.  The wolf sniffs the air for a moment before circling the torches.  It then squats and bays to the newly risen quarter moon.  The sound would be eerie and unsettling in broad daylight but is thrice so in this place.  Seemingly grinning, the wolf pads off again and out of the arena.

Sir Dalan gets a check in Valorous.

Sir Dalan watches the wolf go, a flicker of a smile on his own lips. Unwanted, uninvited visitor that the wolf was and chilling though it's howl sounded it is a sign of life in a place with too little of it. Besides part of him can't but admire it's confidence to speak it's piece in front of an armed and armoured man.

The break of dawn brings little warmth but it does bring light.  There are also the sounds of morning: roosters crowing, birds chirping, the distant sounds of people moving about.  But it is still and quiet in the arena but for Sir Dalan stretching his stiff joints.

There are also the smells, like fresh-baked bread and meat cooking over pits.  He drinks some water as he thinks about the breakfast that he is missing.  After the excitement of the prior day, he had not felt much like eating.  So missing the feast had not been a big deal.  However, there is something about staying up all night that makes you want to eat.  He resists the urge however and just drinks more water.

Soon the mourners will arrive once more, at least until the start of the melee.  So he enjoys the solitude for a while longer.

Sir Dalan gets a check in Temperate.

Sir Dalan tries not think about food or drink other than water or being there with his comrades in arms at the melee.

His thoughts stray to the lion and unavoidably how he would have faired in Sir Perin's place. Not well perhaps. Even if he had been dismayed at the challenge the Countess had set she clearly had inspired her chosen champion!

Soon enough the mourners reappear and the next few hours pass relatively quickly and painlessly.  With the break of day has come some welcome warmth and a break in the loneliness of the dark.

As the time for the melee approaches, the crowds disappear and the place is quiet once more.  At a distance, Sir Dalan can hear the start of the melee but the sounds are muted and soon fade into the background as the young Banneret considers the previous day's arena matches.  The panther had not been much of an opponent it turned out and Sir Dalan had faced a bear successfully in the past.  Although the Earl, probably Dalan's superior in arms, had not fared so well, as had been the case with the bear's first opponent in the arena.  The lion though, that thing had been fast.  Without the spear, Dalan doubted Sir Perin would have stood a chance against that thing.

Sir Dalan longs to go and participate in the melee with his brother knights and to ride with his own knights from Dover's Crossing.  However, his duty to Earl Robert keeps him where he is to perform this sacred duty.

Sir Dalan gets a check in Loyalty (Lord) - Sir Robert.

It was an honour due to a fallen knight and a duty to a noble lord but Sir Dalan can't help but feel his decision was a rash one. This should have been the moment to lead his knights for the first time, something that had simply not occurred to him when he offered to stand vigil. Clearly he had not yet grown used to thinking himself a Banneret, with the responsibilities and honours that meant.

Still, he resolutely sticks to his post, mentally wishing his comrades all success and glory.

Somewhere, a large number of men battle for Glory and Honor, while Sir Dalan silently paces around the ring of torches that surrounds Sir Lamorak's body.  It remains peaceful here while elsewhere there is little but conflict.  Sir Dalan misses the opportunity to fight beside his brothers but gains a little perspective in its stead.

The peace and solitude allows for reflection and personal growth in its own way.  As the morning wears on the temperature begins to rise.  Sir Dalan can imagine how uncomfortable those fighting must be as he himself is starting to get a little warm while barely exerting himself.

Sir Dalan gets a check in prudent.

Sir Dalan keeps his weary vigil his thoughts on both living and dead.

Sir Dalan can almost sense when the melee ends as the sounds change and soon after there is one final influx of mourners.  The sun is now high in the sky and it has become uncomfortably warm.  As lunchtime comes, Sir Dalan thinks longingly of the food from the last feast.  It would do his empty belly good to have some food but there is nothing for it but to stay and fast.

The last of the mourners depart, leaving Sir Dalan alone once more.  Soon many of the knights, Lords, and Ladies will be departing, returning to their homes.  While entering the melee and fighting alongside his friends and subordinate knights would have been a path to glory and honor, Glory and Honor are due to the fallen as well.

Sir Dalan gets a check in Modest.

Grimly Sir Dalan holds to his post, though by now he longs for this worthy but unlovable task to near it's end.

Fortunately, it is half over.  Well, perhaps more than that.  The afternoon wears on and it becomes quieter as many of the guests head out in the hopes of putting some distance in before nightfall.  At length, night comes once more.  It is a respite from the heat but the darkness is a little oppressive, all the more so because of the lack of sleep.  Sleep, glorious sleep, yes, that would be nice, to just lie down for a moment.  Rest his eyes.  Sir Dalan shakes himself and walks around, replacing the torches that have burned out and stoking the fire, which will soon be warming him.

Perhaps just sitting for a moment would not be a . . . bad . . . th . . .

Sir Dalan jerks awake, must have just dozed off for a second.  It is misty inside the arena now, with tendrils of fog clinging to the walls and swirling around the torches.  Two cowled figures stand on either side of Sir Lamorak's body.  The first intones "Sir Lamorak struck down a knight who threatened a peasant who accosted the knight.  He must be found guilty."

The second replies, "the knight sought to murder the peasant for cussing him after he trampled the peasant's crops and tried to carry off the peasant's daughter.  He must be found innocent."

The first retorts, "a peasant has no right to berate a knight.  Knights are the law.  He must be found guilty."

The second responds, "none is above the King's law.  All are equal in his eyes.  He must be found innocent."

The pair turn to you, expecting a decision.

Sir Dalan wearily shakes his head.

"Sir Lamorak shall be judged by He stands over even the King. Who am I to claim the right to make judgement on the dead?"

A sigh. "Still if it alone shall send you spectres away from this place I shall do my best. Did Sir Lamorak slay his brother knight in a challenge or simply cut him down?"

The pair stand mutely, waiting.

Sir Dalan frowns. "Sir Lamorak must be found innocent. Even if the peasant was wrong Sir Agravaine drew the graver sin. A true knight would protect the weak."

The two figures seem to shimmer and fade, while Sir Lamorak's body appears to glow slightly before Sir Dalan jerks himself awake.  It is very dark and the torches have burned down, close to sputtering out.  The mist is gone and there is no sign of the figures, if they ever existed except in Sir Dalan's mind.

Wrapping his cloak more tightly about him, Sir Dalan walks around, replacing torches and getting the blood moving.  He wonders idly what time it is.

Sir Dalan gets a point in Just.

With little else to do but think on his eerie vision - or whatever it was - Sir Dalan keeps his pacing.