Post by greybeardabbot on Feb 1, 2006 21:27:12 GMT -5
The Year: 1127
The Place: Heraclea Turkey, on the Northeastern tip of the Mediterranean Sea, guarding the Northwestern passage into the Holy Land.
The Players: Count de Raghnall, and his man-at-arms, Torsten Heidon, Sherif of Hedessa
The scene: The place of Odo de Raghnall, Count of Heraclea, friend of Heugh of France, who is the leader of the First Crusade.
Fade in on a long shot of a desert fortress, as dialogue begins.
Voice 1: “…And he still suspects nothing?”
Voice 2: “No, my Lord. However, he is being difficult. I am concerned that he is coming under pressure from the Seljuk Turks. I think he is becoming more afraid of them than he is of you.”
Voice 1: “We must not loose control of him. His lands are too important to the stability of the Hedessa. You will reduce his anxieties.”
Voice 2: “Sire, that may mean… we may need to ask another favor of de Moly. Do you think that wise?”
Slow zoom in on the castle’s keep. The player’s conversation is even toned and serious.
Voice 1: “The Templars are useful. They keep the Mohammedans out of our affairs.”
Voice 2: “The Templars are fanatics. I believe they will be the cause of greater problems if they are allowed to wide a latitude in this kingdom.”
Dissolve through the castle wall, into a private room above the thrown room.
De Raghnall: “Yes? Well… that would bring us to the subject of this…Paladin…then wouldn’t it? This gray pilgrim…who is he and what is he doing in my lands?”
Heidon: “After the incident at the chapel, I have made inquiries. He seems to be who he says he is… a guide for those entering the Holy Land. He appears to be a poor mendicant of the order of St. John of Malta. He is called Christian de Gries Barboure.”
De Raghnall: “So, he is French then?”
Heidon: “I think not. I believe the name is a pseudonym. The ‘e’ at the end of the name is a strange construction. It would roughly translate, ‘The gray bearded Christian’. They call him Gray Beard after all. Besides which, I am told he speaks his French with a slight Italian accent. But he does not appear to be either and Italian or a Frenchy to me. Possibly he is German or English.”
De Raghnall: “So who is he?”
Heidon: “He reminds me of a Dutch prince I met in the court of DeGroot… but he is too old to be him.”
De Raghnall: “I don’t want your speculations Torsten, I want to know if this Hospitaler is going to be a problem?”
Heidon: “The chapel incident, leads me to believe not. He didn’t begin the fight and he wouldn’t have participated in it except that they entered the nave. Even then he did not attack until he himself was attacked.”
De Raghnall: “Vego, Fryed and Reys are excellent knights. You mean to tell me, this one old man took all three in a fair fight? And then you expect me to believe he is not a threat?”
Heidon: “The eyewitnesses claim that he is a clumsy fighter, and only won the fight because he fought for a holy cause. That God was his helper.”
De Raghnall: “I’m not so certain that we need a saint walking among us. There are too many sinners.”
Heidon: “In that case, we shall keep watch. He appears to be a man of faith, and deep conviction. If we do invite de Moly up from the krak, I would think it prudent to have our little pilgrim move on to Jerusalem.”
De Raghnall: “I know that there is no love between the orders. But it hardly seems that one hospitaler would be much of a problem for a garrison of Templars. Never the less, I would prefer open war with Sala-ha’din than suffer the Christians to squabble in my kingdom.
Music up, cross fade to a dingy garret in “The kalil Nadim –The Good Friend”
a poor inn on the northwest border of Heraclea.
Where we find The Gray Pilgrim on his knees…
Silence fills the room, and it is only broken by the sound of a light tapping upon the door.
The monk dressed but humbly in his Hospitalers robes, ends his prayers and closes his breviary. Rising from the floor slowly and with obvious stiffness in his joints, he turns and is sits himself upon the edge of his bed. His eyes smile with relief as his body rejoices with the comfort of being seated. Once more he hears the gentle tapping at his door. He draws his breath and answers...
"Come, the door is open to you."
With trepidation, a young French house girl stands in the doorway, her hair black as coal and her face and arms tanned darker than most Europeans. "Misure, I bring you zome brooth ent a baguette..."
"Bless you child. How thoughtful" She enters and sets a tray down upon a small table near the bed. Clearly she has something more upon her mind. The monk is eager for his meal.
He had not realized until that moment how very hungry he was. Yet, with self control he slowly moves toward the tray and with a nod that showed her that we was asking God's blessing upon this meal, he paused a moment before he began to eat. The moment passed and he broke his bread.
She asked him quietly and with hesitation... "You were een.. zie shapel tozay?"
He paused only long enough for a slight smile to grace his face before he answered her. "Yes, I was in the chapel today."
"You drew your zword een zee sauntuaree,no? Eez zis true?"
Once more he paused, as the smile was replaced and his eyes dropped to the floor. "Yes, that is true."
"You are eh man ov Gudt, how could zou do zees thing? Is eet not a zin?"
Once more he paused before his answer, as this time his smile returned and He raised his eyes to the wall... "You would think so."
"Do you mean eet might not be a zin? How could zat be?"
"Our Lord Christ, once made a whip of three cords, and with great violence, He drove the money lenders from His Father's House. God was offended by the behavior of these wicked men and His wrath was turned against them.
Today three men with little love for the Lord's house, entered the sanctuary to take by violence a young man, who hand entered the sanctuary only a moment before them, who was begging the priest for protection. The wicked men had no legal claim on the young man, but were acting as a press gang to take him by force into their master’s army. Their behavior in the chapel was an offence to God. It may be that when I drew my sword, I was simply the instrument of God's wrath cleaning his house once more. Since Christ did not sin... it may be that I did no sin either."
Her eyes dropped to look at the floor near his feet and she held her hands together at her waist, for a moment they were in silence and then she said... "He vas my broater." She turned to leave and paused in the doorway, her back to him... "Merci ... Merci beucue" she said... "I am mose 'appy you dina sin when you sav-ing eehm." and she left the room.
Graybeard dipped his bread in the broth, and savored the taste of forgiveness.
Fade out…
The Place: Heraclea Turkey, on the Northeastern tip of the Mediterranean Sea, guarding the Northwestern passage into the Holy Land.
The Players: Count de Raghnall, and his man-at-arms, Torsten Heidon, Sherif of Hedessa
The scene: The place of Odo de Raghnall, Count of Heraclea, friend of Heugh of France, who is the leader of the First Crusade.
Fade in on a long shot of a desert fortress, as dialogue begins.
Voice 1: “…And he still suspects nothing?”
Voice 2: “No, my Lord. However, he is being difficult. I am concerned that he is coming under pressure from the Seljuk Turks. I think he is becoming more afraid of them than he is of you.”
Voice 1: “We must not loose control of him. His lands are too important to the stability of the Hedessa. You will reduce his anxieties.”
Voice 2: “Sire, that may mean… we may need to ask another favor of de Moly. Do you think that wise?”
Slow zoom in on the castle’s keep. The player’s conversation is even toned and serious.
Voice 1: “The Templars are useful. They keep the Mohammedans out of our affairs.”
Voice 2: “The Templars are fanatics. I believe they will be the cause of greater problems if they are allowed to wide a latitude in this kingdom.”
Dissolve through the castle wall, into a private room above the thrown room.
De Raghnall: “Yes? Well… that would bring us to the subject of this…Paladin…then wouldn’t it? This gray pilgrim…who is he and what is he doing in my lands?”
Heidon: “After the incident at the chapel, I have made inquiries. He seems to be who he says he is… a guide for those entering the Holy Land. He appears to be a poor mendicant of the order of St. John of Malta. He is called Christian de Gries Barboure.”
De Raghnall: “So, he is French then?”
Heidon: “I think not. I believe the name is a pseudonym. The ‘e’ at the end of the name is a strange construction. It would roughly translate, ‘The gray bearded Christian’. They call him Gray Beard after all. Besides which, I am told he speaks his French with a slight Italian accent. But he does not appear to be either and Italian or a Frenchy to me. Possibly he is German or English.”
De Raghnall: “So who is he?”
Heidon: “He reminds me of a Dutch prince I met in the court of DeGroot… but he is too old to be him.”
De Raghnall: “I don’t want your speculations Torsten, I want to know if this Hospitaler is going to be a problem?”
Heidon: “The chapel incident, leads me to believe not. He didn’t begin the fight and he wouldn’t have participated in it except that they entered the nave. Even then he did not attack until he himself was attacked.”
De Raghnall: “Vego, Fryed and Reys are excellent knights. You mean to tell me, this one old man took all three in a fair fight? And then you expect me to believe he is not a threat?”
Heidon: “The eyewitnesses claim that he is a clumsy fighter, and only won the fight because he fought for a holy cause. That God was his helper.”
De Raghnall: “I’m not so certain that we need a saint walking among us. There are too many sinners.”
Heidon: “In that case, we shall keep watch. He appears to be a man of faith, and deep conviction. If we do invite de Moly up from the krak, I would think it prudent to have our little pilgrim move on to Jerusalem.”
De Raghnall: “I know that there is no love between the orders. But it hardly seems that one hospitaler would be much of a problem for a garrison of Templars. Never the less, I would prefer open war with Sala-ha’din than suffer the Christians to squabble in my kingdom.
Music up, cross fade to a dingy garret in “The kalil Nadim –The Good Friend”
a poor inn on the northwest border of Heraclea.
Where we find The Gray Pilgrim on his knees…
Silence fills the room, and it is only broken by the sound of a light tapping upon the door.
The monk dressed but humbly in his Hospitalers robes, ends his prayers and closes his breviary. Rising from the floor slowly and with obvious stiffness in his joints, he turns and is sits himself upon the edge of his bed. His eyes smile with relief as his body rejoices with the comfort of being seated. Once more he hears the gentle tapping at his door. He draws his breath and answers...
"Come, the door is open to you."
With trepidation, a young French house girl stands in the doorway, her hair black as coal and her face and arms tanned darker than most Europeans. "Misure, I bring you zome brooth ent a baguette..."
"Bless you child. How thoughtful" She enters and sets a tray down upon a small table near the bed. Clearly she has something more upon her mind. The monk is eager for his meal.
He had not realized until that moment how very hungry he was. Yet, with self control he slowly moves toward the tray and with a nod that showed her that we was asking God's blessing upon this meal, he paused a moment before he began to eat. The moment passed and he broke his bread.
She asked him quietly and with hesitation... "You were een.. zie shapel tozay?"
He paused only long enough for a slight smile to grace his face before he answered her. "Yes, I was in the chapel today."
"You drew your zword een zee sauntuaree,no? Eez zis true?"
Once more he paused, as the smile was replaced and his eyes dropped to the floor. "Yes, that is true."
"You are eh man ov Gudt, how could zou do zees thing? Is eet not a zin?"
Once more he paused before his answer, as this time his smile returned and He raised his eyes to the wall... "You would think so."
"Do you mean eet might not be a zin? How could zat be?"
"Our Lord Christ, once made a whip of three cords, and with great violence, He drove the money lenders from His Father's House. God was offended by the behavior of these wicked men and His wrath was turned against them.
Today three men with little love for the Lord's house, entered the sanctuary to take by violence a young man, who hand entered the sanctuary only a moment before them, who was begging the priest for protection. The wicked men had no legal claim on the young man, but were acting as a press gang to take him by force into their master’s army. Their behavior in the chapel was an offence to God. It may be that when I drew my sword, I was simply the instrument of God's wrath cleaning his house once more. Since Christ did not sin... it may be that I did no sin either."
Her eyes dropped to look at the floor near his feet and she held her hands together at her waist, for a moment they were in silence and then she said... "He vas my broater." She turned to leave and paused in the doorway, her back to him... "Merci ... Merci beucue" she said... "I am mose 'appy you dina sin when you sav-ing eehm." and she left the room.
Graybeard dipped his bread in the broth, and savored the taste of forgiveness.
Fade out…