New France

[rashid]

Johannes van der Valk

The days blended silently one into the next. I waited for the leg to heal and all around me the world moved. In my minds eye I could see the streets of Rotterdam bustling with life, the busy ships, the taverns and whorehouses, the churches and society havens, all filled with the vibrations of civilized living while I rotted here in pergatory.

The only saving grace in this misery was the woman who tended me. Although a savage, she was clearly a woman of some skill in the healing arts and passably pleasant to look on as well. That she noticed me watching her was certain and this afternoon, while changing my dressing, she paused to stare directly into my eyes. For some long moments we held each others gaze but before we could speak, her brother entered the lodge and the moment passed.

Earlier, I'd awakened from a feverish sleep to find the lodge empty. For the first time in several weeks I could feel strength returning to my limbs and I crawled to the flap at the entrance to see what I could of the village. Strong male legs and warriers moccasins suggested it best to leave the flap closed - I was not alone after all but under constant guard. Escaping would not be so easy as I'd hoped.

I was in a rather foul mood therefore, when the woman named Talaz returned with my fellow prisoner. So foul, in fact, that I failed to take notice of Mathilde's new garb and the fact that she was clean for the first time since I'd been taken captive. Clean and with her hair braided, she was a handsome woman. The idea of a bath and a chance to shave suddenly took on a larger importance. If I looked as bad as I smelled God himself wouldn't want me and I resolved to somehow make the request.

Accross from me then, on the other side of the fire which burned constantly in the lodge, my captor and his sister ended their conversation and he embraced her with obvious concern stroking her hair and crooning to her in his native tounge. I could not understand a word of course, but the sorrow which consumed him was obvious to me and I wondered that so strong a man could feel so deeply.

He must have felt my gaze for his head suddenly snapped in my direction and our eyes met through the smoke. In that instant I felt a kinship for him, a bond shared by men who fight and I saluted him with a closed fist over my heart. He bowed his head to the womans hair and I watched a solitary tear make its way from his eye to the corner of his mouth where it disappeared as if it had never been. Apparently even savages were not immune to love.

The following morning the camp was on the move.

 

[caspai]

Amalie

Amalie
In the week that has passed, much has happened. I found, much to my relief, that the guards on the dock had not been there to drag me through the streets to face the king's justice. My heart almost felt light when I had realized that. Almost. Too much had happened over the past few months for my heart to feel truly light. I had doubts that it ever would again.

Having finally arrived at our destination, we were allowed to disembark. Strange looks had met me on the dock when people began to realize that I was actually alone, a woman, without husband, father, or son, indeed, without even a maid. I made my way through the stares and whispers, holding my head up high as I went.

Entering the town, I began my search for a room and a bed. Being on land once again after having been on board ship for so long made my legs feel quite unlike they had ever felt before, but presently I regained my "land legs", and was able to proceed without embarrassing myself. It had not occurred to me that I would have trouble finding lodging until the first innkeeper looked at me with a leer and said that I would make a welcome addition to "the other ladies." The way he said ladies made me realize that they would no doubt be anything but, and with that I had my first inkling that perhaps I had not thought everything out as I should have. I made a hasty retreat, and looked for a secluded place to consider how I would deal with this. Presently, a solution presented itself to me. Indeed, the only possible solution. I opened a small case, one that contained what pieces of my mother's jewelry I had managed to take away with me. Finding what I was looking for, I placed the simple gold band on the third finger of my left hand. Wondering what I should do next, I walked to the closest church and presented myself as the Widow DuVal, newly arrived from Europe, and in need of lodging. I explained that my husband and son had died in a tragic accident just six months prior, and that I had come to the new world looking for a new life. I was directed to the manor on top of the hill, a prosperous looking place, and told to ask for the housekeeper.

So that is how I begin this new life of mine, in a new land, complete with a new name.

 

[SexyChele]

Talaz

We started out early in morning, the sun barely risen. There was no time to cook food, and all ate from provisions that had been dried and stored. The wind was chill - in fact there had been a frost the night before. The sun was beginning to shine, yet not fully enough to allow for the frost to melt.

The girl my brother brought had seemed better the night before, yet now she was huddled in the blanket as we walked, chewing on the tough dried meat. The man was doing well keeping up. He bore what pain he might have been in with the dignity of a warrior. His people had much to be proud of in him.

My brother was in the lead, his bearing and stature easy to identify. And I ended up walking with a childhood friend of mine, recently wed and expecting her first child. He prattle was that of the wonderment of marriage and impending motherhood. A part of me was irritated at her gibberish, and a part of my heart contained jealousy at her happiness. I tried to shake off the bad feelings, and started to join her in her giggles and laughter.

I never saw the rock that came up in my path. Covered with melting frost, as my foot stumbled across it, I felt my world tumble from beneath me. Conscious of rolling down the steep embankment towards the river, I felt the rocks and pepples bruise my body. Frantically clutching at anything to break my tumble, I cried out for my brother.

I felt a dull thud against my head, and then a dizzying spiraling of my body. As the sky and trees faded slowly from my sight, I could vaguely hear feet scrambling down the path I had just tumbled. My world went dark as I felt a hand upon my arm. I tried to cry out, but all I felt was my breath leave my body.

And darkness engulfed my world.

 

[cgraven]

"Long striker" speaks of Iroquois signs near.

Scream! From the end of are snaking column as we portaged the falls. My senses keen and on edge I stride through light and shadow to the source. The people do not scatter or seek cover. Fear fills my hart. Why the death song low and mournful.


The grandmothers cluster around the fallen form. My hart stops at the sight of the moccasin so familiar my present to her. Grief fills my hart. I can not even speak her name. A sister and guide gone, a love lost. My death song for her on my lips.

Oh how better is Way can be, for loved ones, once dead. Their names never spoken less their spirit can't rest or grief consume the living

Our Way is every thing its' time. Now is the time for moving not grieving. I bare my chest, swift the knife cut. The blood flow carries the sorrow to release. The pain of parting to soon made.

On we move for the past is the past. On to the winter trading days.

 

[ariosto]

Julien

Chantal had not seen Julien because he had left the ship at Quebec. The message his father had given him was to report immediately to the fortress and pick up a small contingent of militia then to move post haste down the river to his fathers estate.
The elder deDuvenet had taken his sons place aboard the Three Swans to enjoy a more comfortable
passage with the goods he had aquired in the Capitol.
The adjutant had not even blinked when the young ensign asked for seven precious horses to mount his small party on. The order demanded he be there by the time the ship docked. A war party of Abenaki had been sighted by fur trappers moving upriver and the deDuvenet estate once again would play the fortress guarding the approaches to Quebec City.



Julien tried to keep his pitiful squad of six rag tag soldiers in some semblance of order as he watched the passengers debark. He spotted the graceful form of Chantral stepping ashore and smiled when he realised it was his father escorting her. The old dog.
A frown crossed his face when he tought of his Mother lying cold in her grave not three months.
Oh well, life goes on.
Then he watched Corinna Chesney stepping off and hoped against hope that she would look towards him. For even if his men were ragged Julien had seen to it that he himself looked as stalwart and striking as any Meréchel du Roi.

 

[Cathay]

Chantral

Monsieur Duvenet (bless his heart) had an upstairs maid
take to my room, which was suprisingly lovely. The maid helped
me unpack. At first dealing with her was very trying. She
curtsied and bobbed and there was not a sentence uttered that
did not start or end with "Your royal highness." I quickly became
exasperated with her. I did not feel royal......and it was during
this conversation while we unpacked, that I realized I didn't
WANT to be royal. What good had it done me thus far? Because
of my connection to the King of France and his fear of my somehow acquiring the throne from the princesses Eugenie and
Francesca, I was ostracized. I never wanted the throne. I only
wanted the friendship I had shared with my cousins before I was six. We would play for hours, chasing butterflies, singing songs,
pretending to dance, playing such mundane games as
"hide and seek." All that ended when I was six. Suddenly, I
was relegated to an obscure wing with no more than a nanny and a short tea time visit with Grandmere. I was so lonely after
that. With no one but nannies and tutors for company. All
the sunlight and..**** went out of my life. I learned to play
piano, embroidery, all the social graces, including the all-important
pomp and circumstance. (I mastered that well) and never again
would I have anyone I could call ........."friend".
I no longer wanted the intrigue of court. I wanted......I wanted
my own life. I just didn't know what that was........yet. I lay
on that bed resting and realized.....I would rather be my maid!
At least she had a life. A chance anyway. I wanted that same
chance.

oh, I admit.....when I first thought of marrying a commoner, it was to punish Uncle Jean and Grandmere for abandoning me
to this wilderness...but as I lay there...I realized that now....well,
now I wanted it for me. I did not want to raise any future
daughters the way I'd been raised. No light, no love......no laughter. And God knows, I did not want my son raised to be
the vapid, silly effeminate men I had seen around the royal
court all my life. No future son of mine was going to drink tea with his little pinkie extended, or carry a snuff box!

Okay, so it would KILL my royal family. I never said I wouldn't
enjoy that. What, dear readers.......you certainly didn't think
I'd suddenly found religion, did you? Mon dieu, I am what I
am! Certainly...you can't have expected me to change all that much?

 

[Swashbuckler]

Charles

As we arrived home I tried my best to accomodate my erstwhile shipmates, now my house guests. I set my staff flurring about to set things right. I put the young ladies of the blood to my best rooms. Making sure that all were well taken care of and wanting for naught, I soon found that I myself was without bedroom. So I took myself to my study alone and sat by the fire with a stiff brandy.

The words of the govenor's letter still burning in my mind. What a time for such a senario, Files de Roi and a warparty of bravces bearing down upon my home. Duty putting off my words to my errant son. Now I am expected to be the generous and kind host, placating the fears of the young girls now in my charge. Young girls, hell, a princess, "Mon Dieu!" I cursed aloud taking a heavy pull at my brandy. Rubbing my forehead with a well worn set of fingers, trying to subdue the demon of stress that was besiging my skull. I closed my eyes against the pain and lost in thought momentarily.

Opening my eyes, I rose and went to my desk. Reaching into my jacket pocket I remove a small key. Opening the bottom desk drawer I pull out a small wooden case. With a click the key opens the lock and I gently push the lid back. The pair of silvered pistols in their blue velvet mourings gleam a bit in the flickering light. Checking them and loading them I tuck them both into my jacket, out of sight, as to not alarm. But at least I will have something to rely upon should danger threaten my charges.

Swallowing the last of my brandy and taking a deep breathe, I begin the ascent of the stairs to check in on my new guests. As a dutiful and carefree host. I can not force myself to smile as I climb the stairs, though I make the attempt. Going first to my ownchamber, now occupied by my preominent guest, I knock softly and await.

 

[rashid]

The death of Talaz

was as sudden as it was unexpected. The moment she fell I was behind her and managed to just catch her arm before she tumbled over the cliff and down into the river below. Even as I pulled her back up to the path I realized the effort had been futile - her neck was broken, her breathing had stopped and there would be no more Talaz to care for the sick and wounded.

I laid her carefully on the path as the old women gathered around her and sent up a keening that would be the envy of every black garbed widow in Sicily. As I stood back to make room for them her brother broke through the circle. Again I watched him racked with grief but this time there were no tears. His pain was too great and to relieve it he unsheathed his hunting knife, drew the blade across his chest, and let the blood flow heavily onto the ground below.

He spoke his grief to the sky then turned on his heel and resumed the days march. The women gathered the remains of Talaz and slung her to a travois to be brought along behind the band. As the only male prisoner it fell to me to play the beast of burden and for the rest of that long day I repaid the maids kindness harnessed to the poles as they dragged the ground behind me.

That evening a great pyre was built and Talaz's body was placed high on top. Words I could not understand spoke of her place in the tribe and how she would be missed. The women wailed and several of the young men who had courted her cut themselves deeply as her brother had done, silently sharing his grief.

Hours later when the fire had died and the ashes were scattered, my captor came to see me. Speaking through Mathilde, who had managed to learn a bit of the native language he made it clear to me that the old ones had witnessed my belated rescue of the already dead maid and that he was grateful to me for saving the body so Talaz could be properly delivered to the spirit world. When he finished, he took my sabre and, after cutting my hands free with his hunting knife, handed it to me. He then took the wicked blade of the knife, cut his palm deeply and handed the blade to me. I did not need Matilde to tell me his intention and without hesitation I drew it heavily across my own palm. As the blood flowed freely, we clasped our hands together while Mathilde translated his words to tell me I was a free man and brother to the War Chief of this savage band.

 

[ariosto]

edited

 

[Cathay]

As I lay on that scrumptious bed...

I realized, as comfortable as I now was......this is NOT what I
wanted! I wanted all the things that I never had. A sense of
family...to make my life ...A life. To be me. Whatever that may be.
And I knew somehow, I would not find it as Princess Chantral DuJenes. But I think.....I may find it here. I was gonna go hunt
for.......me. And it truly hit me that as Chantral...a pampered
protected princess and if I stayed here in this manse, even though this wasn't exactly a protected palace, it was still more
than I wanted. How could I possibly know how "real" people
lived if I kept looking at them thru these eyes? And if everyone
like that maid, constantly bowed and scraped to me??? I did
nothing to deserve those honours. Being born into the royal
family is a lucky accident. Or maybe not so lucky. If my life was to be....truly rich, If I wanted ....joy and friendship I was going
to have to look for it!
Mind you, I'm not stupid. I wasn't going anywhere without
my jewels. Besides, I am bored. I am tired of living exactly
the way Grandmere and Uncle Jean "think" I should. I have
never stood up for myself. Merde, I don't even know who I am
or what I am made of! But, I am going to find out.
Hmmmm, I'm going to have to talk to Mose, the butler! I think
he may be a sympathetic soul. And I will need his help, that is for sure!
As I lay there plotting, enjoying my free thoughts...there was
a knock at my door.

 

[caspai]

Cathay,

We all have a choice here, those of us who did not quit. I love the story, and want something to come of it. I regret what has come of this one, but I believe that it is possible to take something from this. I think that it is possible to continue, but that it will take work and dedication. CG feels that it can not continue in this form, and I think I agree. I think that if we are willing to work with him, it is possible to re-structure this, and make a new start.

~Caspai

 

[Cathay]

Chantral

I rose rather quickly, checked my appearance in the mirror, amd opened the door. Sir Charles Duvenet stood there. He looked a
little tired...and apprehensive. Opening the door wider, I bent
my head and motioned him in. "Come in Monsiur." He crossed
into the room, and said "Might I have a word with you, my dear?"
Curious, I sat on the brocade settee and waited. The silence grew
a little long while he searched for words and as I waited, something like butterflies aflutter coiled in my stomache.

 

[ariosto]

Cathay I have started my share of Historical threads only to see them founder as people for one reason or another drop out.
It can be terribly frustrating. I have come to realize that the fewer players there are, the better chance of success.
The situation that caused the rift between the players on this thread hopefully has or will soon moderate to a place where we can all enjoy each others company once again.
Cg worked hard on this thread as did everyone.

Do not let this discourage you. Maybe at a later date we can all cooperate in another one together.
I sincerely hope so.

Ari

 

[cgraven]

From OOC New France Last edited by cgraven on 11-13-2001 at 07:59 PM

To all I would like to thank you for the wonderful writing skills that you have contributed to this story.

The lost of two key figures of such wonderful talent so close together makes it impossible to continue.

Normally I would handle it via a plot twist. But no, there style and abilities will be missed.

I thank you for the time and effort you put into the development of your Characters. Hope fully we can work together again.

With humble gratitude,

C.G. Raven


__________________
"I am a story teller. A shadow that dances and spins words for the amusement of those that care to listen."

"It cost nothing to stand by a friend, everything if you don't." " In bitterness and anger only chains"


C.G. Raven

 

[rashid]

It was somewhat strange to be free

again. I soon realized that if I was going to make my way in this new world, I'd have to learn the language and to do that I needed Mathilde. I would have to convince my new found brother to let me have her as a gift of sorts.

That night we shared our first meal as equals with lots of grunting and gesturing. Halfway through our repast I stood up and gestured to him to wait and I would return quickly. Curious, he nodded his assent and I went to fetch my translator. When he saw her, dressed as his sister had left her, his eyes widened and I knew he understood my meaning - one dies and another comes - life is harsh but the Great One knows what we need to test our spirits and our resolve.

Life would go on.

 

[MissVictoria]

Mathilde Haes

Events in life have a strange way of twisting and turning, crashing about and muddling themselves into a whirl of confusion impossible to follow step-by-step. Things happen often and quickly, and sometimes from day to day it is nearly impossible to follow the progression of events. It is as if one day you are here, and the next day you are there, without having seen the between, and when you realize this, it tends to be upsetting and leave a person uncomfortable in their lack of understanding and acceptance.

Mathilde blinked her eyes, and the woman was gone. Not merely out of her vision, but out of the world completely. And Mathilde's own world erupted into scenes of blood and wailing, as the entire earth seemed to reel and mourn. She had no idea how to handle the confusion around her, other than to do as dictated to her, and this is what she did, waiting in silence for her instructions.

Her companion found use of her as a translator, and in a great shining moment a knife was drawn; As his flesh was cut, so were the bounds of captivity. But not for Mathilde. She did not know how to handle or accept this.

One could say that a great jealousy washed over the woman, or perhaps longing. In the passing days she had been ignored, not beaten or made to do any sort of heavy labor, but as men and women passed her by they looked past her or up at the sky, refusing to acknowledge her as a person. And the lack of recognition began to chip on her like a hammer and chisel, making her anxious and filling her with a sense of despair.

With her companion free, would he now forget of her? Would he continue to call on her only when he had need of her services? Mathilde knew that companion was no longer the correct word... he was now one of them.

 

[cgraven]

Winter trade

We move on to the winter trading days at the lodge of my old friend Charles. Many the times in the past we walk the warriors path together,
"Savage Blanch" to our enemies. I was their three moons ago when his woman died. I sang the death chant for her. It was a time of sorrow for a friend and his son now far away. Now there are two scares on my chest one fore Marie and one for she whose name I may never speak again. One old and one new.

We now must make these visits to the franchee. Gone are the old ways his iron pot, knives, muskets and gunpowder we must have. The beaver, fox and lynx pay the price.

The journey has been long and sad. The two captives that are mine have grown close. She knows are
"Tongue" he that of the franchee as I do, yet I do not speak, for wise is the man that only listens. He tries to learn our tongue from the woman, to engage me in conversation by the use of his hands. Still I watch and listen.

The canoes are on the great water now I see a ship at the dock. Charles' stone lodge stands on the bluff.

 

[cgraven]

WINTER TRADE

Art work by Robert Griffing

 

[rashid]

As the days advanced

and the journey continued, I learned many of the ways of my new brother although it seemed to me that he had many secrets he was not yet prepared to share. The simple things like weapons and hunting he taught me willingly and when the hunt went well he was like a child in his joy. The combat skills were more serious. I learned use of the bow, the tomohawk and the knife in daily contests. In return I was able to teach him the power of sabre and pistol and he learned as quickly as I. It seemed we were well matched.

Mathilde remained by me, ignored by the others as if she were a ghost. Day by day I came to appreciate her more and more until one day I woke to find her sleeping beside me like a cat seeking comfort and it startled me to realize how much I had come to care for her. I took her into my arms as she slept and she made small whimpering sounds while she pressed against me. With her head on my shoulder and her breasts against my chest I fell into an uneasy sleep.

 

[MissVictoria]

Mathilde Haes

That night the first of a series of vivid dreams came. She dreamt only that he was walking beside her, as he had on their long journey to the encampment. It was dark and rainy; she could almost feel the wet on her cheeks. When she awoke she rubbed them, suprised that they were not streaked with raindrops. She was embarrassed, as if he would know that she had dreamed about him.

And yet, upon waking further into the night to a nightmare, she had half-unawaredly sought the comfort of his sleeping skins like a child seeking solace. After she had been asleep several hours, and dreamt forgettable dreams, he visited her again.

She dreamt that he was holding her, kissing her. In the dream they did not speak. He merely reached for her, putting his powerful hand on the back of her head, putting pressure on her skull. He had burrowed his fingers all the way through her hair, touching her scalp. But his face had no expression at all; it was blank. His eyes, as conflicting as an October storm, did not blink.

In the dream he was wearing a rough homespun shirt, such as country people wore. It was the color of barley bread, with little nubbly imperfections in it, open at the throat, showing his collarbones.

With his other hand he held her tightly against him. He kissed her, and he ground his mouth against hers so roughly it erased all immediate sensation in her lips except pressure. She felt his body pressing against hers, as if he were a knife and she a whetstone. The pressure of his fingers on her head and her back was intense and forcing. She could feel this so autely that she was certain it was real.

Then, as dreams do, he faded like a ghost in the morning light, melting and floating away. Mathilde awoke to find her tunic up above her breasts and her hair twisted around her neck. She was drenched with sweat from the heavy skins, and fought free of them. She realised that she was not on her own bedplace, but saw no sign of her companion. She lay staring at the ceiling and let the cool breeze from the doorflap flow over her, until she began to shiver.

 

[rashid]

When I awoke again

not long after I became aware of my erection and her one hand upon it while the other played with her breasts. My own hand was holding her head tightly to my shoulder, stroking her hair. She was sleeping, dreaming and I wondered who might be the object of her dreams. Surely it could not be me??????

Shamed by my lust, I rose and left the tent to walk in the morning mist. We had camped near a small stream and I found myself sitting by the bank listening to the water gurgle in the silent woods.

How sad
to see you sleeping
dreaming of a love
lost in time

you who have
been my friend
my companion
my strength

sad
so very sad
to feel your
longing

wishing
that perhaps
your dream
might be of me..........

 

[MissVictoria]

Mathilde Haes

The morning was quiet. There was the slight rustle of the tented shelter in the breeze, and the soft chittering of morning birds that had not yet began their descent southward toward their winter homes.

Mathilde grew nervous alone in the silence, and decided to rise and brave the cold. The only other awake in the early morning hours, She found her companion sitting near a small stream by himself.

She approached him soundlessly in her moccasins, and when behind him, greeted him in the native language that he had began to learn.

"The morning greets you, in beauty."

She smiled downwards, and as he glanced her direction remnants of the past nights dreams swept through her mind, and her cheeks flushed slightly, but she cast them aside and sat down next to him on the bank.

"I found some geese eggs last evening," she continued, this time in german. "Shall I begi-" she cut herself off abruptly. His eyes were avoiding her, and she was unaccustomed to this.

"Have I offended? I apologize, for coming to your bedplace... please, forgive me..."

 

[cgraven]

We beach the canoes in the flurry of activity just west of the docks. The children are running and playing the women set their lodges. As the men care for the canoes.

The man is still a captive but one I respect. On this journey of sorrow he and the woman have grown close. They come from the same world. Their tongue is the same. There is much that draws them together, yet much that could draw them apart.

I have learned to late that one should speak one's hart before it is too late. For me the time of love for a maiden is past. She is gone. She never knew of my feelings for her. Never knew she could speak of hers for me. Know I am denied even the sound of her name. Well these two also drink from the same spring? What of these franchee women that I see now arriving? Will they follow their harts or take a different path? One that my lead to sorry not love.

I go to his stone lodge to see my friend.

 

[caspai]

Amalie

The housekeeper at the manor has been very kind. I can see the questions in her eyes, but she doesn't ask them. She watched me for a time, and when I didn't seem to her to be anything other than what I claimed to be, she seemed content to let me have the shadows of my past.

The manor is large, but nothing that I am not familiar with. My family had had several homes, many of which had been much larger than this one. It did me no good to dwell on such things, and I did my best to banish such thoughts. When the melancholy thoughts beset me, there was one person I could count on to cheer me. I have found a great friend in the person of Corinna Corday. I had not thought to find such a friend so soon. It is comfortable to be with her, because we have formed a silent agreement not to talk about the past, either of us. It is nice to not have to constantly hide, to constantly have to think of things to explain inconsistencies. I had not thought of these things when I was forced to flee...

 

[Swashbuckler]

Charles

Upon hearing her bid me to enter her chamber, formerly my own, I bow slightly at my thick neck and take one step into the room, "Madmoiselle Chantral," I say with mustered dignity, trying not to let my eyes linger over her form and not look directly into her eyes and keep within my station. "Your highness, I so so hope that our humblest of boudoirs is to your acceptance. Furthermore, my servants are yours, as am I. You must inform me the instant that anything is to your distaste. I would hurt if everythign was not to your comfort."

I take a deep breathe and continue, "It would appear that some of the natives are here to do what buisness they will in the morning. This may keep me out of the house for some time in the day. Nothing to trouble yourself about, your highness, I just wish to make my appologies as your host before I am to be missed. My housekeeper will see to you in my abscence." Risking a glance into her soft young eyes, "I would hope you would do me the honor of dining with me tonight." I was trying to be the propper host, a role I had never relished. That is why I had made my way to the brave new world. To cleanse myself of pomp and circumstance. That I had left to my fool of a brother. This was my world, my home and here the superfolous flummery had tracked me down. From the Royal Court! God does have a sense of humor, this last thought almost betrays a slight smile on my weathered lips.