The Perilous Forest

Sir Wilfred frowns at the mention of the mistress, of whom he obviously disapproves. "Let's begin by the man maid Maude mentioned. And the tax collector. We will see if we need more discussions afterwards."

"Would we be able to trust the earl's mistress? I think not for surely she would be loyal to her lover. The most likely to have loose lips would be those harmed by the earl I suspect. They might be the easiest to gain information from and perhaps they will bear the most fruit."

Sir Gareth turns to the other knights for affirmation.

"You are mostly likely right Sir Gareth, and considering now we are taking her handmaiden on our errand, she might take an extra disliking to us. But…still if we are here in this castle for the night. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. We can always read between the lines.

Though even if we don’t question the mistress, I’m sure if we question the man named by maid Maude, the tax collector, Merchants, petty lords, as well as common folk along our journey north, we’ll be able to start to paint a truthful picture. I don’t mind taking time to get to the bottom of it all."

"So l vote to enact Sir Wilfred’s plan and begin with this John Alistar and the tax collector. If we just begin I’m sure our best further actions will make themselves apparent."

Later the servants come and show you to rooms. They are well appointed, perhaps a touch less so than you'd expect for a prestigious country lord, but not mean by any stretch.

You're given chamber pots, hot water and towels to wash up and promises to fetch you when dinner is ready. You're rooms are near each other, so you can rest or visit as you please.

You request of the steward that the tax collector be sent to you, and one John Alistair. The first he agrees to send right away, the second he says that that man had left the castle the prior day.

The tax collector arrives, a sturdy man, more fit to be a blacksmith than an accountant. Barrel chested, with wide mustaches and scarred arms, he seems a man who has seen his share of violence.

Gathered together in the larger room, he greets you all. "My lords, I was sent by the steward to attend to you. What pray thou could I do for august men such as yourselves? Say it and it will be so."

"Greetings," Wolstan says, rising. He's bathed and shed his armored shell, now wearing a doublet of rich burgundy, as well as his sword. "I am Sir Wolstan of Glengrave," he continues, allowing his companions to introduce themselves as well. "We're seeing to this matter with the brigands... and wonder what your experiences with them might be, since you are a man who travels the Earl's roads with frequency, and while carrying spoils that might attract these unsavory types."

Sir Gareth availed himself of the hot water and towels. He could not remember the last time he had bathed, or changed his clothes for that matter. He had to admit to himself that it felt good and he ought to do better. Dressing in a fresh set of clothes and grabbing his sword, he met his fellow knights and the tax collector.

"Indeed, my good man, we must rid the woods of such vermin and make them safe again. What can you tell us?"

Having refreshed and changed himself, Sir Wilfred joins the conversation with the tax collector. As a silent listener for now.

Gregor is there as well.

He smiles grimly and scratches his head. "Well, it's like this. Every once in a while, I pay a man to let me beat on him a bunch, out on the road. Add some goats blood, make it look vicious. Then he stumbles into the nearest town and tells the story of how he insulted me with four or five others, and I soundly thrashed them all, then hung one as a warning. Stories like that, each different but the same. I've got a bit of a legend now." He blushes. "I know it's not honest, strictly, but 'a name is as good as a shield,' my pa used to say."

He then, sensing your impatience at him not directly answering your questions, says, "I'm not sure about these new men. They've left me alone, but for how long I can't say. I've heard that there have attacked travelers, six on one, and that's likely not a story. They have a camp, I suspect to the south and west. I've heard more than one story about them going to and from that way, least wise."

He leans closer to Wilfred and Gregor, naturally preferring the company of men who listen quietly to his endless stories.

"One more thing. There is a witch that way. Most leave her be, or tip their forelock and don't make eye contact to ole Shezbaz. She's a beauty, but it's a trick, she's as old as anyone ever could be, and evil to boot."

Gregor thinks to himself "hmm...lawless leader to the north, a brigands camp to the south, and now a witch." Looking to his fellow knights he tries to discern their reaction about this news of the south and a witch.

It seems to Gregor that heading south may be the best plan. But just in case the collector has any insight into the north, Gregor breaks his silence, "The Earl had mentioned ongoing trouble in the North, Do you know anything about the lawless men there and their leader?"

Sir Wilfred smiles at the talkative Cecil, and keeps silent, figuring that the more comfortable he feels, the more talkative he will be. If some of the wine is till lying around, he serves him a mug using a natural a demeanor as possible.

Sir Gareth tries hard not to sneer at the man who he deems a coward. Gareth had his faults it was true, but stooping as low as that, and paying men in order to prove one's bravery? Well, it was abhorrent! Thusly, when the man leaned closer it was with much force of will that Sir Gareth did not lean the other way.

"A witch you say? Indeed. Where exactly might we find her?"

"The northmen? Picts, some say, or invaders from the north across the sea. Either way, they're freemen and fiercely so. The Earl has rightful dominion of that land, but he hasn't taken control of it. They vanish into those trees like spirits. You'd need an army to take them, and another army to hold it. No, the Earl has better use for his men than trying to hold smoke in your fist."

He accepts the wine from Sir Wilfred, his favourite of you, and says, "Thank you, m'lord. The witch, I don't know rightly. They say she lives on a rocky shore near the Swamp of Peril. The road goes there, so you can't miss it, but finding her squalid hut has never been my fate. Can't say as I tried that hard, I doubt she would pay any taxes other than cursing me. Ha!"

Like the young knight Gareth Heath, Wolstan mislikes hearing about the dishonest and unchivalrous strategies the taxman uses to wrest coins and goods from the Earl's serfs. But the man's tongue is loose from the moment he flaps his lips, and while they all must be wary that's he's speaking lies, there is certainly something to learn from this man. From what he says, and what he does not.

The barrel-chested knight snorts inwardly at the mention of a witch, but nods when the man explains who the troublesome foes are to the north. Too much of this lately, in Arthur's lands. When Cecil mentions the Earl's men and a better use for them, Sir Wolstan presses the point mildly.

"And what use is that?" he asks. "For his men, I mean?"

He hesitates, and then sighs, realizing that he's a common man trapped between two nobles. "It's not my place to say, my Lord."

Wolstan meets the man's gaze and holds it for a long moment before he subtly nods, once. "Understood. Remember that your King decides your place, Cecil." But then, knowing the man is in a difficult position, the middle-aged knight extends something of an olive branch.

"Mayhaps you could tell us of someone who understands the complexities here better than a simple tax collector. Who was loyal and keen-minded enough to tell the Pendragon's agents what they need to know. So that they do not have to wring it from other places, however they can."

Aha! Gareth thinks. Now we get to the heart of the matter.

"Perhaps this camp of men to the south and west gives gifts to the earl in exchange for being allowed to run rampant in the woods freely attacking travelers and robbing them of their most valuable possessions!"

The bold knight did not mind voicing his thoughts in front of this man. Now that the tax collector had compromised himself he would hardly go back to the fiendish earl and tattle. It was ironic though that the earl's mistress appeared to be the cause of his demise. Gareth had found himself in similar circumstances more than once, though his solution was far less imaginative.

Sir Wilfred is also very much displeased to hear that the mistress might be the source of much ailment to the people under the Earl's care. The responsibility of the man shouldn't be diminished though. Tapping gently the tax collector on the shoulder, he pours some more wine in his mug. "Maybe it would be a good idea to meet this woman, after all?" he thinks aloud.