APAT Brighton: Friday 20th January 2012
On the afternoon preceding the joust, Sir Paulie gathered his travelling bag and leapt into the saddle of his black stallion, ”Owdeeayfor” and drove the steed with a heavy hand along the great highways to the southern shores and the town of Bright on the Sea. Under the mighty charger’s hooves the miles flew by and our hero arrived at his chosen lodgings in the early afternoon.
Being a frequent traveller and well known in many establishments across the land, Paulie was owed many favours and had used some of these to obtain lodgings at the “Inn of the Holiday” for a mere 80 gold pieces for his two night sojourn and was greeted warmly by the innkeeper.
Grateful for the continued trade, the innkeeper offered him an abatement on the price for stabling his stallion which was most unexpected and warmly received.
The innkeeper had also made luxurious accommodations available to the good knight, and once again, Sir Paulie was grateful that his custom was being recognised.
The lodgings were spacious and featured not only a much larger cot than was the norm but also seating areas both inside and out, the latter of which gained the advantage of a view of the coast and access to the sea air.
Sir Paulie didst enjoin an artist to capture these scenes on canvas and these art provided for your delectation.
After dropping his travel bag and setting up his writing station in his room, Paulie took ”Owdeeayfor” to the stables and bid him rest. There would be no great need to trouble the beast for the period of the joust.
Once the animal had been settled, Paulie made his way into the heart of the Brighton and, in particular, the Inn of the Bright Helm which was one of many owned across the empire by the clan of the Weathered Spoon.
The journey was only a short one, perhaps one seventh of a league, but our hero was no longer young, and was, confessedly, carrying more avoirdupois than is generally considered healthy, and thus the walk didst take a toll on his aging joints but our hero soldiered on to the taproom where he had arranged to meet other companions.
Paulie knew from previous correspondence that he would not be joined in the evening’s frivolities for a few hours and took advantage of the respite to fill his, it must be admitted, copious stomach with a feast of the finest meats available. Now, it must be said, amongst his many faults, that Paulie was no stranger to strong drink and this occasion was not one for abstinence but then, with our hero, there were few occasions for abstinence.
Fortunately, Paulie had brought his magic tablet which allowed him to read any scroll he had in his library and so was able to while away the hours preceding the arrival of his companions whilst supping on many a tankard of ale.
Betimes, the day fell into evening and Sir Paulie’s companions didst arrive; first Lord Asa of McGrath and then Sir Laming of the Glenn. Whilst they were sharing stories of the travels, a small bird alighted to with a note clutched in its claws that Grant, Chief of the Speir Clan, [from the furthest reaches of the northern lands] had mislaid his crystal ball on dismounting his dragon and thus would be delayed. The note also gave warning that he suspected he was being trailed by a small, irritating, troll.
Once the company of fellows was fully assembled (including the troll who went under the name of DaveyPee) no lesser personage than the Lady Michelle de Gascoine didst come down from her ivory tower at the Queen’s castle. She had been much delayed due to taking fullest advantage of the extensive luxuries available but was not above joining in the merriment and badinage so prevalent at such gatherings.
The evening didst wind its way far into the night and Sir Paulie and Lady Michelle gained much merriment in mocking the ladies of the evening who didst flaunt themselves amidst the melee of the alehouse but as the witching hour approached the company didst commence to fall by the wayside.
Mayhap they were fatigued from the travels or overcome by their excesses but one by one the company waned until only Sir Paulie, the Lady Michelle and the troll didst remain and in the fullness of time even Sir Paulie succumbed to the rigours of his advancing years and, one must also suppose, the enormity of his suppage.
Though the night was blacker than a pawnbroker’s soul, Sir Paulie bid the Lady Michelle adieu and weaved his way through the thronging peasantry back to his solitary lodgings.
“This day's tale is told but, fear not gentle reader, there is story of the battle to come...mayhap on the morrow.”
