Thoughts of the Past and the Present
Returning to his camp after the curious events of earlier in the day, Nikolai Eevanvitch settled in to sleep away the worst part of the day when the sun here became so utterly unbearable. In his tent, fanned by a small arab boy he had hired for a couple kopecks in town, the church servitor slowly settled into a sleep. However his sleep was awkward, not very restful and his mind was constantly plagued with thoughts. While earlier he so easily had dismissed the results of the tourney, only mused about its possible outcome, something within him was stirring, anxious, restless.
His quest, he must not forget his quest. And the Lady Zomoroda, how better to impress upon her God's trust in him and the True Church by showing a grand martial display? Somehow between dreams that mixed with reality and realities that much too miserable that he attributed them to dreams he eventually feel into a deeper sleep. When Nikolai awoke again, the red glow that shone through the material of his tent told him it was evening, it would be cool now, more comfortable.
Wiping a bit of spit from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand he frowned before grabbing up his sword which had lain next to him. His back cramped from the awkward position in which he had slept, Nikolai emerged from the tent half huddled, quickly working the buckle to attach his scabbard to his thick leather belt. Finally straightening his back, he sat down opposite a small wooden table to eat with Vseslav, the old man looked up at him curiously,
"You didn't tell me the result of the Tourney my lord..."
In between mouthfuls and thoughts of showing the glory of the Church to these disgusting natives with their ragged and worn looking teeth, Nikolai set down his spoon and give Vseslav a smile that somehow made the old man a bit uncomfortable,
"It shall end in a duel, between myself and the papist Gelran, you shall see. Did you ever hear of the tale of Prince Vladimir Melnikov at mighty Izborska?"
"No my lord... should I have?"
Nikolai grinned and tapped his spoon against his bowl,
"Listen comrade then and I shall tell you about a great love story...."
"But what does this have to do with..."
"Listen Vsya...", interrupted Nikolai in turn and the old man simply smiled at his good friend and master and settled in to listen - Nikolai went on,
"We have been to Izborska before you and I, perhaps the blood of the Bremer still stains that field - You see there was a grand tourney, as this one that took place there, the grandest tourney in anyone's ability to recall. A man was chosen by Princess Ekaterina Yuriyevna herself to represnt Pskova in Pskova, and that was Prince Vladimir Eevanivich Melnikov, a great warrior and a man of pure heart if not sometimes a simple mind."
Taking a drink of the gross brackish water which was all that was available in this putrid land, Nikolai sighed before continuing,
"Also at this tourney was a certain lady, a beautiful young noblewoman from Portugal, Syerina Pedravna. In one of God's gifts of fate, these two would happen upon one another and fall immediately, stricken by love. However Syerina had already promised her favour to a Gelran.. " at this point a light of comprehension flashed across Vseslav's face,
"Yet she still promised her favour to Prince Vladimir as well. So it was that the two would be forced into a duel, to see who properly had rights to the Lady's favour. As was, well, predictable God's will was with Prince Vladimir and the Gelran was forced after a good show on both combatants into a yield..."
Nikolai went on to tell Vseslav the rest of the tale, of the two other duels that Prince Vladimir would fight before he finally had the woman who would one day be his wife. About the victory of the Orthodox knight over the zealous Catholic. Indeed Nikolai was re-thinking over his own tale as he approached to discuss with the Lord Master Herald. Introducing himself to the guards outside, he began,
"I wish to have a word with the Lord Master Herald if I may, concerning the result of this tourney..."
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