Knights of Salisbury

Summer of 489

"From the tales of Sir Maxwell..."

The summer of 489 found the earldom of Salisbury mustering troops as King Uther Pendragon had decided to bring to a close the question of the loyalty of Gorlois of Cornwall. Placed into the vanguard of the king’s formation, the contingent of knights from Salisbury fround themselves bearing witness to history as they looked up toward the hilltops surrounding their position and marveled as King Uther and his adviser Merlin rode alone toward the Duke’s much larger lines. Gorlois seemed assured of victory, until the king unsheathed Excalibur and bathed the positions of the enemy in an intense light, panicking Gorlois’ troops and throwing his noble entourage into a a state of frenzied worry which was most pleasing to the eye of a true man of Logres. There after Uther and Gorlois reached an accord, and no blood was shed that day. The army then turned northward to bolster the Duke of Lindsey’s stand against a Saxon incursion in the north. Our merry little band, near a brotherhood now in honest truth considering the amount of combat we’ve shared together was given the order to raid into areas of Saxon control, a task we began at once. During our first excursion we encountered a band of Saxon warriors, afoot and armed with great spears and lead by a single rider. Promptly Sirs Gregory, James and Simon spurred their chargers, unleashing the fury of their lance work upon the advancing enemy while Sir Miles and I positioned ourselves to charge the flank of spears so prevent any of the enemy who did outnumber our courageous company from attempting to surround our companions. Foolishly the leader of their troops and a group of his best men broke from their base host to engage Sir Miles and myself. In the ensuing melee our valor drove off the Saxons, while Sir Maxwell captured the enemy leader. Regrettably, our victory was without a storybook ending as one of Sir Miles’ men was killed, and others of his retinue were injured along with my squire Tolken. Most galling of all was the loss of Sir Miles’ private priest, carried off during the fray. Unwilling to let a civilized man of god to fall prey to whipped dogs, Sir Simon volunteered to escort the wounded men and our captive back to our main camp, as the rest of us ran down the surviving and broken remnants of the s]Saxon raiders. When we found them there was little fight left in them as we finished what we had begun, and discovered to our amazed delight that they had lacked either the time or the inclination to butcher their captive. Our remaining excursions were fairly peaceful affairs as first we raided and set about ensuring this area would be unable to provide further succor to the Saxon army. When we were ordered to return to Salisbury, flush with the success of campaigning it was with tales of a great battle to come next year ringing in our ears, as the Saxons had mostly avoided major clashes and Prince Maddoc seemed determined to finish next summer the job he had begun this year. Until next year, Octa and Eosa, until next year…



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