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Frost was hanging in the air. [[The Cold|The cold]] was spreading through the landscape as a white cloak of starvation and famine. Even if the air was getting cold, the ground had thankfully not frozen yet. As three coffins were laid in the earth outside of Hindon during Autumn in the year of 502 the ground was still soft and welcoming. The people that witnessed the ceremony were quiet. It was as no one believed that the dawn would come again. Three lives had been lost in the household this autumn. As the [[Saxon]] raids hit [[Salisbury]], they had hit Hindon with full force. [[Lady]] Nest had been killed with a knife to her gut as the [[Saxons]] came on her on the road towards Hindon. Placus had been out playing behind the [[Roman Villa|Roman villa]] and his head had been smashed against a stone. The architect, Guiseppe must have tried to save the boy for he was found with an axe wound to his chest. The question that hung in the air was as clear to man, woman and child as the monk said the last words of the ceremony. What is the point of it all if we can’t do anything about the raids? The steward of Hindon stood watching the graves as the others left for the manor. Sir [[Ennis]] might have thought to be alone, but there was another shape. A similar one, his nephew [[Brynach]] also stood waiting. Man and boy met eyes. “You have something to say to me?” said [[Ennis]] who stood slightly taller than the young man. “I do,” answered [[Brynach]]. “I know that you blame me for their deaths. Probably as much as you blame the [[saxons]] for this slaughter. I guess it is not more than right that you do so. So get it over with. Say what you have to.” “They were your responsibility and you didn’t protect them.” “I protected as many as I could,” answered [[Ennis]]. “She was a woman,” continued [[Brynach]] his voice shaking slightly. “He was only a child, and Guiseppe...” “I know what you are thinking. You imagine that if you had been only a few years older, you would have been lord of Hindon. You think that if you would have been here, you would have saved them.” “Am I wrong?” [[Ennis]] pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. “I don’t know. Maybe you would have been able to save them all. Maybe more would have died if you had been in charge. I don’t know.” “If I had been here I could have done something!” cried the young man and took a step forward. “But you weren’t,” snapped [[Ennis]]. “You are still a squire. That is your lot, and that you weren’t in charge is my gift to you.” “Gift?!” [[Brynach]] screamed furiously. “Explain to me sir how it is a gift to not have the responsibility that I was trained for?” The heavy eyebrows of sir [[Ennis]] furrowed and anger was starting to show in his eyes. “You are less experienced than me, and whatever you might believe I didn’t let them die. This autumn raid will haunt me until I part from this world. That is my gift to you so that you don’t have to carry their deaths on your conscience. Be grateful that you don’t have to learn that lesson just yet, boy.” “Who are you to tell me what I have learned and not? I took the responsibility for this manor when I was ten years old, whatever you might think.” “Are you so eager to feel the burden of carrying the lives of others on your shoulders? Are you so eager to experience failure? Because fail, we do. We can’t stand in the way of every [[saxon]] on the british isles when they attack our friends and family at the same time. Let me teach you a lesson squire. Choice and luck are the two components of who and how many you can save when the [[saxons]] attack your home. The luck you can’t change but the choice you’ll have to live with.” “You could have planned better. We need more men!” “Yes, we do,” agreed [[Ennis]]. “But where will you find them? With what coin will you pay them?” Brynach’s voice went cold as the frost in the air as he answered: “With the coin you have hidden away.” The sound from the slap echoed in the mist that was forming about them. The silence that fell between them felt much colder than the chilly air. “When you are lord of Hindon,” [[Ennis]] said finally, “you can do however you please with that money, but I am fed up with your disrespect. You are a squire and I am a knight, and you will remember that from hereon. You will accept the decisions I have made, as I will respect yours when you take over for our family. I don’t doubt that you want to do what is best for it. Hope is a fickle thing, as is luck, but the choices knights make live on throughout history. <comments />
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