The greatest swordfighter in Salisbury

Three gossiping ladies sits by the hearth in Sarum Castle a late autumn evening.

Anne: ”My dears, did you see the knights riding home from the fighting in Jagent? Weren’t they a sight to see?”

Marigold: “They were indeed. The seems to have covered themselves in glory and spoils. Did you see the magnificent stallion that Sir Cadry rode in on? It must be worth a prince’s ransom. They say that the horse belonged to Prince Mark himself!”

Harley: “And covered in jewellery too. Roman jewellery at that. It seems like him and a few of the other men stayed in Dorchester on their way home. You mark my words nothing good will come of it. That pagan will lead our men to their deaths with his vainglorious actions.”

Marigold: “Oh come now Harley, no one can deny what a splendid and handsome warrior he is. They say that he himself killed five enemy knights in the fighting during this autumn. I say that no man is his equal with a sword.”

Anne: “Both on the battlefield and in bed, or so I have heard. Did you hear about the fighting that went on in the Praetor’s bed last year? I bet that was why he stopped by Dorsette on his way home. Just look at all the finery he is bedecked in riding home.“

Harley: “Maybe the strange pagan has taken a liking to men now that that witch of a wife of his is dead. I heard from old Ines that she died screaming and that the devil himself dragged her to hell for her sins.”

Marigold: “Oh, don’t be horrible Harley. Just because you envied her, there is no cause for speaking ill of the dead, pagan or christian. I am sure that Sir Cadry needs comfort after all the horrors that has befallen his family.”

Anne: “I am sure he does need comfort. Perhaps he just needs the company of a lady of breeding and some maturity.”

Harley: “As if an old bag like you would have a chance with that man. He probably would prefer mounting that new stallion of his to mounting you.”

Bickering ensues.