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The Conquering Hero In his mind's eye, he hade made his heroic return to Sarum a thousand times. It was nothing like the real deal. It had always been sunny, somehow, for starters. The actual return was drenched in rain, and so was the hapless hero. He found himself numb with cold in the midst of summer. And the gate hade been dressed in gay colours, not singed with fire. Where the streets had been lined with gay people in gay clothes, he saw was a few grey shapes in the rain, shoulders hunched, shooting him indifferent glances from gaunt faces. No one cared, for they all had greater cares. To survive, for example. Sarum lay in the shadow of death, it was anyones guess β from the high and mighty to the most humble beggar β how and if they all would survive the treacherous [[alliance]] of King [[Idres]] and King [[Cerdic]]. The Iron Tide looked more lika a tsunami this summer. And of course, the hero had never caught that Beast, which he should be parading proudly down the streets. Had he ever even been close? Yes, that first time, the very first time, he had almost touched it. After that? Hardly a glimps. Like chasing a shadow in a long forgotten dream. Had it all been a [[Faerie]] trap of sorts? Or some strange curse of King Pellinor, which afflicted those that came close to him, like a plauge in the soul. Who knew? Not him, for sure. He had become a man of questions and he knew that he was to much of a Fool to ever figure out all the answers. But he did know some things. It was all that he had left behind all those years that really mattered in life. His Lord. His Wife. His Sons. Well, they were the sons of a better man really, but still, he should have stood by them, as he should have stood by his wife. And Swallowcliffe destroyed! He had seen what remaind. Not much. Broken timbers and weedy fields. The peasants looked like ghosts. He had seen hate in the eyes of those that dared to look at him, and who could blame them? Not him, he had made nothing to help lead them over these dark waters. He almost started to cry again, and then he once more heard the voice of the boy who soon would be his lord in his head: "Swallowcliffe will be rebuilt at my expense, Sir". He had protested, he did not need the boys charity, he was not worhty, all the worn, standard phrases. The boy had looked at him all serious and simply said: "You gave my your horse, Sire!" He could not dispute that. He could only wished he had had the common sense to get himself killed in the battle. And, oh!, if they had won! It had been so close, and that made the chalice of defeat even more bitter to empty. The world infringed on his reverie, as it was wont to do. He was by the keep and by the keep was his long suffering wife. Would she hit him or hug him, he wondered as he carefully dismounted his steed, a vicous one, that one. Hug, it proved. Yes. Love. She did love him, after all. And love does not conquer all as they say, it oftimes drowns in the mud instead. But Love does forgive, and he was forgiven. Though she did name him Fool, and he could not protest. Much later, there was much to talk about. Her life, small as it was, an uninteresting as it must be for a man of the world, but the talk must be born, all her petty greivances born. Then there was the boys, the bad one and the good one, pages both now, soon to be squires. For whom? And at last but not least of money, always the money. "[[Padern]], I'm pennyless", she said. "I've been for years". The was a rather long silence, and the the hero said, with a rather small voice: "I have seventeen pennies". That was what all his [[adventures]] had left him. Judas Iscariot at least got 30 for his troubles, he though darkly. "Oh, [[Padern]] ..." she said, and there was a new silence. Then she added, rather tentatively: "They say you saved young Roberst life at [[Netley Marsh]]". "Oh, do they now!" he cried. He did not like that, people talking about him like that. Was it true? He did not know. After some time, he added, with a gentler voice: "[[Robert]] has promised to rebuild the manor". Beeing a Fool, the knight had not realized that this was all he needed to say to truly be a Hero in her eyes. So in the end, he found himself a Hero after all. A hero of sorts. And he promised himself, that from now on, he would be a stay-at-home hero. When he said it, he believed it, but did she did not.
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