Scribed by Jari
Spring 1309AD
The new year arrived not with the snow and ice that make stonework glitter in the cold winter sun. Instead, it came with a dreary wetness that merely made everything and everyone damp and uncomfortable. Not that I miss the Erequith you understand but with both of my companions from the northern lands of my birth now gone I found myself in a reflective, even slightly maudlin mood thinking back to my childhood memories of snow and ice.
In a similarly underwhelming vein, Pyrrhus began the first council of 1309 by congratulating Branwen on her progression in the Latin tongue. I’m fairly sure it was intended as a genuine compliment, but I fear it came across as somewhat patronising. Anyway, whatever Branwen thought of it she kept to herself, and with little news to report we moved swiftly on to a review of the covenant’s goals, the slow and methodical passing through of which quite took me back to my 'prentice latin studies under old Master Niillas.
Jari’s private journal
Which is to say, practical and useful but rather tedious.
There was little to discuss relating to events at Tintern for that trail has gone cold. Equally, there is nothing to be usefully or safely done relating to Mynydd Myrddin for now, merely to keep an eye on it as we pass by when journeying to and from Blackthorn. Eurus Aquilae is leading the Wizard’s March against the Renounced magi from Loch Lagleann, though quite how a March can be declared when we still don't know which magi we're talking about is beyond me.
Jari’s private journal
That said, given they’re likely the same magi who murdered Alba then I won’t be protesting too vigorously against such dubious legal practice.
Regarding matters relating more directly to the covenant, a promising new lad in his teens has been identified as a good apprentice for our spymaster Vassily so hopefully our long-held plan of getting an undercover agent inside Oxford university will eventually come to fruition. It’ll very likely be years too late for our original purpose but any intelligence we can glean should still be interesting. Branwen is to take the ship to Cad Gadu and thence to the secret lair of her mater Diana, where she will hopefully learn the ritual to placate the man-hating new master of the Heart of the Forest. She seemed surprised and delighted to learn that this is to be deemed a covenant service but it’s only reasonable given tree-calming potions probably weren’t high on her to-do list.
Of other covenant services: Naevius will enchant an item to ward sword blows away from a man; our mighty lord and master Pyrrhus will extract vims vis; Terentius will wait a whiles before deciding but will likely head North again; and, I agreed to make further venture into the forest and surrounding villages to gain a greater sense of what if anything has changed there and or indeed any other news of interest in our locale.
A week after the council, Vassily reported strange news from Kidwelly. A fire has been seen in the sky above the castle there and the town, which is a fair size if my memory serves me right, has been abandoned. Kidwelly is part of the lands of the Baron of Swansea, lying some miles to the west of that place. Given the news was recent, Pyrrhus, Vassily, Captain Merrick and I set out to see if we could find out what was going on. We travelled mundanely, going by false names, Pyrrhus being one Adam Scrivener of Kings College Gloucester and I as Jarrett the bard.
As we walked, I spoke with Pyrrhus and he surprised me by regaling our group with his recent compositions of vulgar poetry – who knew he had it in him? I’ll spare the lurid details for the sake of my more prudish sodales here but will simply record that my favourite was one about a young maid from Cheshunt.
Anyway, although walking the roads is much slower than flying on conjured winds or in the form of a bird, it does allow you to pick up news as you go and to get a sense of the mood of the people in the region. In addition to being much better for information gathering, it’s also a lot more enjoyable as you often spend the night in an inn. I do love the Fox and Chicken but it’s nice to have some new haunts to have some fun in, even if the ale is often of poorer quality.
To prove my point, I can relay that the reconstruction of Chepstow continues apace and the folk there seem to have regained their optimism and hope for the town. We heard stories in Newport that indicate the Abbott of Tintern, of whom there is still no sign, is popularly believed to have run off with a mistress. More pertinent to our current journey was the word of a traveller who had heard a tale in Caerdydd that the devil’s ship had been seen off the coast of Tenby one night. The fisherman who told the tale to the traveller claimed to have seen a black ship with no lights aboard, swathed in mist. He said that it was a terrifying sight and in its wake a fog swept inland that made many people sicken. All in all, a lot of unnerving similarities to the reports of the UnNamed House’s ship that used to plague the South Welsh coast some years ago.
We found no news of such dread happenings in Caerdydd ourselves when we got there. However, in the village of St Brides Major, which lies about halfway ‘twixt Caerdydd and Swansea, we met a man who had passed by Kidwelly who reported that the farmhouses surrounding the town were all empty, with no people working in the fields. Further on, several people in Llansteffan spoke of seeing a green fire in the skies above Kidwelly, which they said was deserted. Unsurprisingly, rumours were rife as to the cause of it. The most popular one seemed to be that the devil had come in a ship and collected all the souls from Kidwelly.
Careful questioning of those who claimed to have seen the phenomenon for themselves suggested that there was no smoke associated with the fire. Indeed, the descriptions of green fire put me less in the mind of the infernal and more of the ‘barrow fire’ associated with the restless dead in Mynynd Myrddin, though such conflation may well be erroneous. Of note, we came across no witnesses from Kidwelly itself, a troubling point for with any wholly mundane disaster there should be at least a few survivors fleeing inland as refugees.
A day out from Kidwelly, after piecing together further tales and purported eyewitness accounts, a few common elements became clear. Whatever the event was, it occurred just on the night of the last day of winter, an hour or two after nightfall, thus putting my mind firmly back into thoughts of an infernal attack of some sort. The ship had been seen off the coast the afternoon before but when it came that eve it was accompanied by an acrid mist that stung the eyes. At that time, and indeed it remains the case as I write, the Baron of Swansea was away campaigning with the King as were several of the local knights, including the knight of Kidwelly.
The coast road that leads to Kidwelly is rocky and bleak, with a seeming constant biting wind coming in from the sea. Such wind was not however enough to shake the thick mist that we could see still hanging over the town as we rounded the final promontory and looked down into Kidwelly bay. Looming over the town from the other side of the bay, and high enough to be above the mist, stood Kidwelly castle. Although distant, there appeared to be signs of activity there with flags waving and guards moving on the wall.
We moved on cautiously and before long came across an abandoned-looking farmstead. In a paddock beside it we could see the rotting corpses of a half dozen pigs. There was no smoke coming from the chimney and the front door was banging in the wind. To add to my growing sense of unease, Races the Wind told me that his paw was tingling, always a sign of trouble to come.
As we carefully snuck forwards, I noticed the pitiful little body of a starling lying beside the path. Sensing an opportunity to learn something without getting any closer, I cast ‘Sense the Lingering Magic’ on it. The intellego magic revealed the bird had been affected by a malign non-hermetic spell, akin to some sort of perdo effect of significant magnitude with a sigil of a ribbon of green flame.
Merrick bravely crept up to the cottage and peered in through the window, through which he reported seeing three decaying human corpses lying in the bed. With just under half the short winter’s day left, and giving the cottage a wide berth, we walked down towards Kidwelly town. We could see figures moving within the mist, likely soldiers loading something onto a wagon. Discretion being the better part of valour, and minds still fixed on the likelihood of the mist being imbued with some diabolic magic, we skirted round the town, sticking clear of the mist, and cautiously approached the castle.
Although the castle doors remained firmly shut, one of the soldiers inside was content to chat through a hatch in the sally gate. The man reported that there was a plague in the town, which their priest had said had blown in on a “foul wind”. They had heard no word of any other places being similarly afflicted.
With daylight beginning to fade, we decided to camp back on the easterly promontory, about a quarter of a mile from the farmstead as we at least knew the ground around it and were not sure about what the castle soldiers and priest might think of unknown travellers. It was an uncomfortable spot, with the constant wind blowing in from the sea and the patches of ground that didn’t have rocks stuck in them were covered in prickly gorse. On reflection, that may just be me getting soft from too many nights in taverns of late. Anyway, missing my domestic comforts or not, we settled in for an uneasy night with only our senses and Pyrrhus’s Ward Against the Infernal to protect us from whatever fell powers might be lurking out in the darkness.
Although the spell ‘Eyes of the Cat’ lent everyone a somewhat sinister look, which didn’t do much for my frayed nerves, it did allow us to spot something slinking low to the ground around the edge of the farm’s paddock. Pyrrhus flew off to investigate from what he hoped was the safety of the air and, on spotting a figure in the paddock, he conjured light which revealed a leathery humanoid figure gnawing on one of the rotten pig corpses. The figure recoiled and fled as the light touched it, and Pyrrhus withdrew back to our camp. We decided to wait until morning to investigate further and the rest of the night passed quietly and seemingly uneventfully.
Soon after dawn the next day, cloaked by the ‘Veil of Invisibility’, Pyrrhus, Races the Wind and I snuck back to the farm. We could clearly see fresh teeth marks on one of the pigs, quite large teeth by the looks of it too. We moved quietly to the door where Pyrrhus erected another ward, and then he tried to cast ‘Dust to Dust’ on the one human body he could see in the bed inside. The spell failed and a leathery hand pulled the blanket over its head. No mindless undead then but our Flambeau was not deterred and, with a smile playing on his lips, he let rip with the ‘Arc of Fiery Ribbons’ on the bed. The flimsy blanket offered little protection as the three bodies writhed and let out an inhuman keening as they burned.
Deciding not to risk poking around in the town with the possibility of both mundane and infernal trouble, with the latter quite possibly beyond the capabilities of Pyrrhus’s ward if the magnitude of the perdo magic on the dead starling was anything to go by, we returned to Swansea. From there we caught a ship to Holy Isle to report a likely incursion by the UnNamed House. However, that covenant was barred to us as the guards there reported that there were no magi there, as they had all departed more than a week previously. So, we wrote a letter describing what we had learnt about Kidwelly and left it with the sergeant there.
We then made our way to Caernavon and from there picked up the road to Cad Gadu covenant, or at least the forest that surrounds it. We found a group of the forest wardens and asked to be taken to the covenant. The wardens seemed more on edge than on my previous visit and, when questioned, told us that the tenor of the forest had changed. Some parts of the wood had become even more tangled and wild, and their patrols now stuck solely to the tracks and even those they trod with more care.
Despite this, we passed through the forest without incident and found the covenant in its usual carefree state. However, by the large oak in the covenant grounds, stood a second tree, the mortal remains of Llandolwyn after his final twilight.
Jari’s secret journal
Assuming of course that this was Llandolwyn’s actual final twilight. Judging by what’s been recorded in this journal about him, he seems to have had more lives than a cat. But I’m not going to put anything here to add any doubt, as if this is but another ruse, any motivation he has for hiding is likely a good one.
We spoke with Notaria and told her all we knew of the probable UnNamed House activity, staying long enough to scribe a thorough account for her to distribute to all who would want to know more of such as a matter of urgency.
Before we left, I also spoke about the changes to the forest with a new maga, or at least new enough that she had not been present last time I visited Cad Gadu, Maga Sertoria of House Merinita. She said that there had been no actual attacks on their patrols, rather a sense of a growing wildness.
With our duty duly discharged, we retraced our steps back to Chester and from there took ship back to Bristol and home. After discussing our findings with the council on our return, I agreed to spend the rest of my season's service investigating the Western side of our forest.
I was primarily looking for evidence of change in the forest since last I had visited, though in truth I couldn’t lay claim to more than a passing familiarity with the wood there despite having passed through the villages a few times now in the guise of a wandering minstrel.
Coleford, once a growing and bustling place, is now almost entirely surrounded by trees but the road linking it to Monmouth is still there and well-enough travelled to remain open I believe. There was no sign that any of the recent growth of trees had been cut back. This isn’t too surprising I suppose given the trees that border Coleford have always been part of the Royal Forest and the penalty for cutting trees in such is death by hanging. Inevitably, the place is not as prosperous as it once was, but my sense was that there was enough trade and people to ensure its longer-term viability. Speaking with the inhabitants, I didn’t have to press much at all to get tales about spirits and wizards in the forest but there wasn’t any overt hostility about such, just a pervasive faint unease about their proximity. Despite this, there was little sign of any great faith in the Church as a remedy for the deterioration in their situation and they were not unhappy at the reported fate of the Templar army that had sacked Chepstow.
The neighbouring village of Clearwell, whose growth had previously destroyed the magic in the caves bearing the same name, had suffered much worse. The road on from Coleford was so overgrown as to be hard to follow and I think it would be nigh on impossible to move carts of any size down it. This has left Clearwell very isolated and its future as a viable settlement looks bleak. The people seemed scared and those with the coin to do so have already left, leaving only the old and the poor behind. Were I the sentimental sort I might feel sad for these unfortunates who have been caught up in the fall out of conflicts ‘twixt forces beyond their ken but I’m not such a man and all that sprung to my mind was that it may be worth checking whether the regrowth of the forest has in any way caused any change in Clearwell Caves, whose spring could once be harvested for vis I believe.
Monmouth lies too far from the forest to have been impacted by its growth but news of the incident at Kidwelly had drifted there when I visited. The tales were of a miasma or ill wind that had brought a plague inland from the coast around Kidwelly. There was no sign of any stories about the dead coming back to ‘life’.
Travelling up to Ross along the northern forest road, the boughs of the trees edging the road were close enough to meet overhead but other than that the road remains as it once was. This means that Huntley priory is still as it ever was. I stayed the night there, making dutiful observance of their monastic hours. The monks were friendly enough but a little guarded with their opinions on the forest and I did not push them for their frank and firmly expressed opinion on the templars spoke volumes. They believe that the defeat of the templars was an ill omen and a sure sign that their god has forsaken England.
I pressed on into the northern part of the forest where it quickly became clear that there had been significant expansion of the trees beyond their previous range. I was able to reach Mitcheldean without too much difficulty though the road was disrupted enough by protruding roots and branches that I think wagons would find it hard going. I saw signs of recent felling and tree clearance to the northwest of the village. The knight was away, presumably off warring in the North of England, and there was no inn so trying to inveigle information from the insular and tight-lipped folk there was hard. The road is their primary trade route and the sudden growth of the forest has caused some merchants to switch to transporting their goods by barge, thereby cutting Mitcheldean out of the loop and hence the locals cutting back trees. It’s hard to blame them but with a psychotic misanthropic tree god ensconced in the Heart of the Forest we can’t allow this to stand.
The situation in the village of Huntley, a little further east, was similar. The forest wasn’t as dense there and the village was surrounded by a stockade but there had clearly been significant tree clearance to the north of the village in an attempt to reclaim valuable (to them at least) agricultural land. They had also been having similar issues to the folk in Mitcheldean in losing some passing trade to river traffic.
With their knight away too, it was readily apparent that the villagers had been quite intimidated by the changes in the forest and reclaiming the land from those trees had helped them to feel safer and more in control of matters. They do not believe that the trees around them form part of the Royal Forest so fixing this will likely require more than a legal edict and threat of force. Furthermore, they were planning further clearance of the trees where they have encroached on the road. It’s certainly going to be an interesting challenge resolving the opposing forces of a murderous forest deity and desperate locals whose future prosperity is at stake.
As I had no ideas of how to square that particular circle, other than the aforementioned and likely insufficient legal edict and threat of force, I spent the remainder of the season investigating the northeastern part of the forest to try and get a sense of the nature of the trees thereabouts. The forest is not wholly wild but it does appear to be old, as far as my hermetic magics could determine at least. However, even in this, the ‘lightest’ part of the Forest of the Dean, I could sense that the forest was watchful. It’s not surprising the local peasants are scared, they probably should be.
Summer
With suitable irony, as I looked out of my window before heading down to the council meeting, I couldn’t help notice that the forest surrounding our covenant looked particularly fair that morning. The sun was shining and the gentle breeze blowing through the window bore a rich scent of new growth.
Once we were all seated at council, our benevolent leader graciously permitted this humble scribe to tell the tale of our trip to Kidwelly and beyond. The tale set a sombre mood though there was little desire to probe further before Holy Isle had had chance to investigate, particularly given the likely puissance of the infernal wizard involved. The matter was thus set to one side pending further word from the Dedicated Covenant.
I then recounted what I had learnt about the western and northern reaches of the forest and how we might best put a stop to the tree felling before the great stag of the forest lays a curse on us or the Jack of the Green lashes out at us in its fury. Or of course both such events happening at once!
We discussed the possible options we had, which ranged from such predictable suggestions as burning the charcoal burners and other guilty peasants to charcoal, to the more prosaic but less homicidal such visiting as a magistrate and recompensing them for the inconvenience caused by the trees with large sums of cash, likely 500 to 600 pennies by our best estimate.
Faced with such handing over such a large sum to otherwise readily combustible mundane folk the council demanded further information to ensure that such cash outlay was absolutely necessary. I was duly dispatched back to confirm whether all the trees about each settlement were indeed part of the forest. While there, I noticed that the charcoal burners had indeed been busy cutting into some of the new growth and for a moment thought more favourably about the abyssal flame option. I was able to find a quiet spot to cast ‘Converse with Trees and Plants’ on a large beech and determined that it was indeed part of the forest, at least in its considered opinion. And, as usual with older trees, its considered opinion was very considered indeed!
With that I returned to the covenant and discussions began again. New options included repeated axe thievery, with the idea that peasants would only be able to afford a limited number of replacements, though there was some concern as to whether blame for such might be laid at the door of the faeries leading to the possibility of further poor consequences for the surrounding trees. As regular readers of this journal can likely imagine, the debate went on for some time, becoming increasingly bogged down in minutiae of each individual option. After some time, probably minutes, possibly hours, Pyrrhus mercifully brought things to a vote.
In the first vote, exemplifying Severn Temple’s proud independent tradition, the council voted 3 to 1 to wait until someone had fetched Hypathia. A second vote on whether to conduct an irregular campaign to slow down the tree cutting, whether blaming such on faeries or no, was a dead heat and Pyrrhus duly put that option out of its misery by exercising his authority to break the tie and vote it down.
Jari’s secret journal
I could sense that Pyrrhus was itching to just dump this all on the Guardians of the Forest, as if we courted such a role. To be fair, an ungenerous reader of past events might well conclude that I and my big mouth had indeed courted such, albeit inadvertently, but fortunately I think Pyrrhus was cowed by the thought of how cross Terentius would be at being held responsible for things not within his ready control.
Continuing the sylvan theme to our council meetings, Branwen asked who we thought would likely be the new Prima or Primus of House Ex Miscellania. She said that she thought it likely to be Maga Luddwyn and no one present had any knowledge to the contrary. There was a suggestion that a plan was probably in place for a smooth transition as we know that Llandolwyn had foreseen that he would soon be entering final twilight.
A fortnight later, with just Pyrrhus, Naevius and myself in the covenant, we received a letter from Terentius, written from the English army’s camp near York. The news was not especially uplifting for he wrote of how Hypathia had left the main army to pursue vengeance against the murderer of her brother. He said that he would attempt to find her but as a consequence he would not be back to the covenant as planned.
Terentius added that he had also spoken with her nephew, the new King, who had promised to use his influence to help us. As early proof of such, included with the letter was a writ from the Crown and Earl of Gloucester stating that there was to be no forest clearance around the settlements of Mitcheldean and Huntley with an annual stipend of 600d to be granted to the two villages by way of recompense.
Pyrrhus, with typical generosity and magnanimity of spirit, asked whether the ‘Guardians of the Forest’ should pay but Naevius spoke out immediately against such and guessing correctly which way I was likely to vote on such a matter Pyrrhus did not press for a vote.
Jari’s secret journal
I confess when Pyrrhus raised the question and it was just Naevius and I to vote alongside him I was pretty worried. Happily however, Naevius's sense of fair play, such as it is, kicked in as he recognised the injustice in such a motion. If only he could apply such fair-minded sentiments to having people put to death for magical accidents! Or am I being overly emotional in continually harking back to that one action of his? I will try and judge him more dispassionately in future, even though I very much doubt we’ll ever become friends. For now, I’ll content myself by noting that he’s no Pyrrhus!
Anyway, with the solution agreed on, so it was that I found myself dressed up in my magistrate robes and heading out of the covenant gates with the two most thuggish-looking grogs in the turb. I’d like to say that I’d been pressured into such a role against my better judgment but the truth is that I’m a bit of an easy mark when it comes to putting on a costume and acting out a role. I would have preferred to have been accompanied by more urbane fellows, but as it turned out the grogs I ended up with, Jessop and Rauf, fitted what I needed very well.
We made our way down the hill road through the greenwood, which still happily showed no overt sign of the Jack in the Green’s wrathful hand, and was a genuine pleasure to stroll through. From Lydney we caught the barge towards Gloucester and with a small extra payment the bargeman was happy to drop us off outside the city. From there we made our way along the road to Huntley in good time. My magistrate’s robes did the trick and the village steward David invited me into the manor house to discuss matters. I duly presented him with the writ. Although not too enthusiastic about it, especially in having to accept such with his master the knight away, my legal authority was clear and so he agreed to the settlement without much argument.
Mitcheldean did not go quite as easily. In truth I wasn’t expecting any great difficulty given my obvious legal authority and the generous sum of monies involved. But, with hindsight, I was enjoying the role of a haughty magistrate a little too much and not giving sufficient consideration as to how strongly the people who would be most affected by this, the villagers themselves, might feel.
At first the visit seemed to go fine as I spoke with the old man who had been left in charge by the knight. He was unenthusiastic about announcing the new agreement to the villagers himself so, to get him onside, I agreed to do so as a representative of the King’s law. It was then, as I stood before a crowd of the local peasantry having haughtily announced the edict and detailed the compensation they would receive, that I realised I had miscalculated.
I had been expecting a little anger given the old steward’s reluctance to be the one to stand up and tell them, but I hadn’t anticipated just how angry they would be nor how swiftly things could get out of hand. The villagers were clearly not at all happy with the ruling and as one, then a second and then a third shouted an indignant protest, still more joined in, until the entire crowd was baying its anger at me. I’ve never seen a riot up close and while I’ve read about its power of the mob in classical tales such as that of how Clodius used its power to force the great orator Cicero out of Rome, I clearly hadn’t taken the lesson of that tale to heart.
Jari’s secret journal
Even as I admit my mistakes my ego continues to run rampant with such a vainglorious comparison!
Within moments there were irate men pushing forwards, venting their fury at the deal I was trying to impose upon them. As I write now, I can look back with a detached interest at how members of the mob fed off each other’s anger and aggression, transforming the psyche of the group as a whole with alarming rapidity. However, in the moment it was impossible to feel in any way distant from my situation.
I realised with a sudden sick feeling that I was in serious danger. Even with two such hefty grogs in front of me I was being jostled and I could feel spittle landing on my face as red-faced men shouted abuse and grubby calloused fingers jabbed angrily at me. Although I dared not take my eyes off the ringleaders of the mob as I continued my protestations about my legal authority and the good coin they would get, I could sense at the edges of my vision the mob begin to encircle our small group. Running away was no longer much of an option. I started to quickly assess what spells I could bring to bear to save us, alright, me, but even assuming a ‘worry about the Code later’ viewpoint I was struggling to think of any spells that I could get off that would stop enough people quickly enough.
It was at this point that Jessop and Rauf stood strong. Whether they did so through duty, loyalty or a realisation that once things started they would be as much targets for the mob’s wrath as I would, I do not know. Jessop, although fat and somewhat ponderous, is a big and imposing man, and the war maul that he carried easily in his meaty hands must have helped his intimidation factor. I certainly wouldn’t have liked to get struck by him in a play fight let alone a real one!
Sensing that the crowd was on the verge of erupting into violence, the two grogs snarled threats at those bold enough to lay hands on them, shoving the ringleaders bodily backwards and readying their weapons. As those behind saw the bravest falter at the reality of taking on two large men at arms, who were clearly well acquainted with violence, the rest of the crowd simmered down as well and the fiery intensity of the situation died as quickly as it had flared up. With momentum lost, the mob dissolved into a disorganised rabble of grumbling peasants once more and the threat dissipated.
With my heart still pounding fit to burst in my chest, I waited until the villagers began to disperse before retreating, so as not to give them any chance to find their courage once more. After what seemed like a very long time indeed, but was probably but a few minutes, the peasants started moving back to their homes and, somewhat chastened, we returned to the manor house. The old steward did not say anything, but I could see the tremor in his hand as he poured us all a much-needed drink.
The next day, although I think it fair to say that we were not bid much of a fond farewell, we were able to return whence we had come without any problems. We delayed only to call at the three nearby charcoal burners to ensure that they too were been given due legal settlement to refrain from any further tree felling.
Once back in the covenant, I put the magistrate robes away, vowing to learn from the confrontation. Not that such things should not be attempted again of course but rather how they could be better handled in future. The power of the threat of brute violence was not lost on me either. With that in mind, I had a word with Captain Merrick and had Jessop and Rauf put on light duties for a week, along with a cash gift to reflect my gratitude and to hopefully help ensure further such loyalty in the future.
A couple of days near the end of the season, I saw that a familiar black steed, I won’t say horse, was back in the stables. Given what Terentius's letter had said, I decided it wise to give Hypathia some space until the autumn council.
Autumn
Terentius was also returned from the north and it was quickly apparent that he was not at all happy with Hypathia, our Tremere never being one to hide his feelings.
To summarise their news, York has been recaptured by the English and the Scots magus with a ghost familiar, or “fetch” as McKeidh referred to it, is dead. There are however still many surviving Scots men-at-arms and they are believed to be regrouping further North.
Ever opportunistic, the French King has raised an army and taken Bordeaux, a key city near the coast in the Southwest region of France. This leaves the new king of England, Aeddan II, somewhat stuck and fighting a war on two fronts, neither of which can be easily neglected.
Hypathia told her tale in an emotionless monotone. Magi from Borrea Tor and Eurus Aquilae have been making what investigation they can in the midst of a warzone. They believe that as many as three rogue magi may have aided the Scots during the battle for York, including one apparently specialising in perdo corporem spells and the terram specialist who was doggedly pursued by Terentius up in Yorkshire last autumn. The evidence indicates that that individual used his magicks to create a pit to blunt the English cavalry. A third maga, with the sigil of bloodshot eyes, who appears to prefer the forms of mentem and corporem, used spells to try and blind key members of the English army, including Terentius! With such aid and the strengths of York’s fortifications it is not surprising that the English army sustained heavy losses, though neither Hypathia nor Terentius knew if any of our local knights were among the dead. Unfortunately for the English, Robert de Brus escaped and it is believed he may seek to rally the Scots at Durham, an English city some 25 leagues further north, not too far from the border.
There was no further news from the war so we turned our attention once more to the issue of how best we might protect the forest from the local peasantry and avoid further hostilities with the Jack of the Green. I was asked whether or not the coin will work and while of course I cannot be sure, I think we did enough to ensure that they will listen at least in the short term. It was not a small amount of money that was handed over either and I was at least careful enough to ensure that the villagers knew that good monies were being paid for their agreement to leave the trees be.
Branwen reported that she has learnt some rites from her mater to help calm the trees, along with a recipe for a “herbalistic libation” which should boost such an effect though she was not sure how potent it would be on the Jack himself. The potion needs apples and cinnamon, as Branwen had foreseen in her vision on the Grey Hill last year.
I had thought that one of the old pagan forebears who once sat on our council might have brewed such a concoction before. So, in the hope of finding account of the efficacy of such, after the council was concluded I read back through the older tomes of this journal. Sadly, Cormoran, by all accounts a dedicated pagan and keen dabbler in magical endeavours beyond his ken, appears to be the only one who had any interest in apple-based brews. Sadly, all he seemed to do with them was to turn them into cider, which he would then get drunk on and proceed to wander round orchards loudly reciting bad apple-based poetry. It's not that I don't approve of such it's just that it's not of much help at the moment.
In any event, sourcing apples will of course be no problem but cinnamon is a rare and expensive spice so we will need to work to get some of that. Assuming we can find enough of it then Branwen believes she will be able to brew two doses in a season. She also said that she can teach the rites to others
Having learnt the spell ‘Free the Striding Tree’, I volunteered my services for the season to help move the most troublesome trees in the northern forest. Which is to say, those that encroach on crop fields, key roads or impinge on buildings and such like.
Next we turned our attention to Kidwelly, albeit briefly for there was no news to report from there though Vassily has the place and surrounding settlements under careful observation. Naevius then reported that he has finished the metal blade warding magical item and had duly granted possession of such to our good Captain. A worthy investment of time and vis given the great service that Merrick has already given this covenant.
Jari’s private journal
Hypathia seemed somewhat ‘off’ though given all the secrets and powers that she bears it’s impossible to say whether anything in particular is bothering her beyond the obvious. At least I was able to catch a glimpse of her dread sword firmly in its sheath. Also, I might be doing Branwen a disservice, but I’ll believe it when I see it about her teaching her rites to others!
Later that day, Terentius returned unexpectedly early from a foray abroad with Geddyn in tow. He’d seen the Holy Isle ship in Chepstow harbour while he was out and about and made himself known to them. Geddyn said that the ship that was seen off Kidwelly before the fog and fire in the sky was indeed well known to them though this was the first time they were aware of it having been seen in such waters. Previous sightings have all been clustered around Ireland and the Irish Sea. The owner of the green flame sigil is a necromancer who has not been seen in Stonehenge before. Geddyn and his fellows from Holy Isle have made extensive investigations in the waters off Kidwelly as well as the land thereabouts. Using mundane agents, they sought to find any report of such a ship moving further along the coast but despite searching as far down as Cornwall they could find no trace of it. Unfortunately, they have no idea why it came here nor what the true purpose of the attack was. He did note though that the UnNamed House has been growing bolder of late, especially in and around the Scottish islands.
All the recent turmoil in Loch Lagleann cannot have helped matters. Indeed, I wonder to what extent they are aware of the troubles afflicting that tribunal, whether through spies amidst the hermetic community there or through observation of changes to travel between covenants and so forth.
Geddyn did have some clues he could share though for McKeidh had used ‘Eyes of the Past’ in an attempt to determine what had happened in the town. As the mephitic fog rolled ominously over the town a group of men came ashore and stole into the church. Further investigation revealed that they went into the church’s crypt and there broke into the tomb of the current knight of Kidwelly’s father or grandfather. They took his sword and then departed back to the ship. Mundane spies subsequently revealed that the next day the priest and a party of men went down from the castle to the town to investigate what had happened and to deal with the bodies they would have seen lying about the place. Geddyn thinks that they probably dealt with most of the bodies but that some bodies remained long enough to rise as evil creatures such as those Pyrrhus destroyed in the farmhouse. Geddyn referred to such creatures as “lurkers” and said that they were infernal spirits of the third or fourth magnitude and thus could be warded or destroyed using vim magicks.
The word amongst those who had visited the town with the priest was that a plague had befallen the place. Certainly with the plague fires that were burning there it’s highly likely there will be no resettlement of the place given the presence of lurkers there. With that Geddyn departed to resume his investigations.
I spent the season in the northern reaches of our forest again, near Mitcheldean, moving trees away from the field markings that denote worked land there. Such a task required repeated castings of ‘Free the Striding Tree’ and I am happy to report that I had no magical mishaps casting numerous spells in the pressure of a dominion aura. However, on several occasions either my voice or the sound of the movement of trees disturbed the locals. While my voice is naturally always a delight to hear, the same cannot be said for large trees moving around at night. Despite casting the spells to move them, I found it slightly spooky watching them jerk, drag and claw their way across the ground in a wholly unnatural manner, all in the dead of night too, so I cannot imagine how unnerving it must have been for those folk who were woken from slumber by such sounds. A few brave souls, mostly the ones who had nearly lynched me earlier in the year, stepped out of their doorways with a lantern or torch but I used the covenant’s ‘Wand of Flames Extinguished’ to snuff out any light they bore and their courage died with the flame so I was not disturbed, nor did they get a close look at what exactly was happening.
Of course, any villagers with an ounce of intelligence must have noticed that trees had moved from the previous position but I am optimistic that as the trees were moving away from their homes and fields that they would have seen such as a relief. In time they will hopefully return to their normal lives without thinking too much about a few strange nights one autumn and the experience will leave naught in their minds save for a lingering hesitation to take an axe to a tree.
Jari’s private journal
On the night before our winter council, I received an unexpected visitor. Pyrrhus came to talk to me about a scheme he had to try and smooth things over with the Court of Stone. He plans to arrange to have Turold’s broken sword fixed and to return the reforged blade to Gofynnwy. The original deal to do such was of course fulfilled in 1305, albeit in a manner that doubtless rankles with Gofynnwy and Gofannon, and it was this damaged relationship that Pyrrhus seeks to rebuild.
At least that is what he claims, frankly I have concerns that he has been emboldened by getting the better of Gofynnwy before and now seeks more precious gems or other magical prizes. I counselled him to be cautious in any dealings with the Court of Stone, warning him that he could expect a stony welcome there and that it would be a rocky road back to a more friendly future with them but such puns were as wasted on him as my words of caution likely were.
Winter
Another winter dawned with no sign of snow and instead the shutters on the council chamber rattled with wind and heavy rain. I’m starting to see why so many previous magi have complained about the weather here!
I gave a quick report on my progress in moving the trees in the north of the forest and we then discussed what could or should be done about Clearwell and Coleford to the west. With no sign of any church or noble involvement it was deemed safe to merely task Vassily to keep those places under surveillance for now.
Talk then turned to Geddyn’s revelations about Kidwelly. Was the UnNamed House up to its old tricks of collecting special items? How might we identify the knight whose tomb they had robbed? Were we even sure that he was of the same family as the current knight? Such titles can change hands, especially in the turbulent times we live in. Were there any stories of a special sword in Kidwelly or more broadly along the coast of South Wales? Could it have been borne back from some far-off place by a knight away at war? Church records seemed to be the best place to start such an investigation but with the local knight away at war with the King and likely to be so for a good while yet, we agreed to wait until Spring to begin such.
A fortnight after the council, we were visited by Magus Gaines who was recently returned from Loch Lagleann. He had been visiting Bucholly Castle with Quaesitor Romanus and described it as a very odd place indeed. The inhabitants seemed wholly ignorant of the rest of the Order and there was an altogether strange ‘fluence about the place, much as Volutus reported when he visited in 1291. Anyway, they were able to study the tribunal records there and identify from records of sigils and so forth, those rogue magi from Loch Lagleann who have been aiding the Scots.
The magus with the spirit familiar or fetch, who was slain by Hypathia, was Ideth of Pitfichie Forest covenant and was some 130 years old. The others were all also from that covenant and indeed all from House Ex Miscellania. The terram magus with a sigil of splintered earth is Owun, who is in his seventies or eighties. The maga with a sigil of salted winds is Geira, who is 120 or so years old, while maga Sulia who bears the sigil or bloodshot eyes is a mere stripling in her sixties!
In other hermetic news, Gaines reported that McKeidh has called for a meeting of House Ex Miscellania at Cad Gadu in the summer of 1311.
In mundane news, the Pope has fled to the Southern French city of Avignon at the invitation of the French King, for Rome is now a hostile place to him. How this relates to previous machinations of the templars surrounding the pope I do not know. The Pope having mundane enemies strong enough to force him to flee Rome appears to be a good thing but it does put him in possible alliance with the King who even now wars against England.
The Teutonic knights have seized the port city of Gdansk on the Baltic coast. They have also taken control of a sizable area of land about it and thereby cut off the Kingdom of Poland from the sea. Their intentions are as yet unclear but their new proximity to the Domus Magnus of House Bjornaer is troubling.
All in all, a stark reminder that even with the templars beaten there are many foes still active on the continent.
There was nothing else of note that occurred during winter for me to record so on that cheery note I shall bring my year’s scribing to a close. I confess it was tempting to invent something else but I suspect Pyrrhus is cross enough with me already so I’d best to leave it here.
Spring 1309AD
The new year arrived not with the snow and ice that make stonework glitter in the cold winter sun. Instead, it came with a dreary wetness that merely made everything and everyone damp and uncomfortable. Not that I miss the Erequith you understand but with both of my companions from the northern lands of my birth now gone I found myself in a reflective, even slightly maudlin mood thinking back to my childhood memories of snow and ice.
In a similarly underwhelming vein, Pyrrhus began the first council of 1309 by congratulating Branwen on her progression in the Latin tongue. I’m fairly sure it was intended as a genuine compliment, but I fear it came across as somewhat patronising. Anyway, whatever Branwen thought of it she kept to herself, and with little news to report we moved swiftly on to a review of the covenant’s goals, the slow and methodical passing through of which quite took me back to my 'prentice latin studies under old Master Niillas.
Jari’s private journal
Which is to say, practical and useful but rather tedious.
There was little to discuss relating to events at Tintern for that trail has gone cold. Equally, there is nothing to be usefully or safely done relating to Mynydd Myrddin for now, merely to keep an eye on it as we pass by when journeying to and from Blackthorn. Eurus Aquilae is leading the Wizard’s March against the Renounced magi from Loch Lagleann, though quite how a March can be declared when we still don't know which magi we're talking about is beyond me.
Jari’s private journal
That said, given they’re likely the same magi who murdered Alba then I won’t be protesting too vigorously against such dubious legal practice.
Regarding matters relating more directly to the covenant, a promising new lad in his teens has been identified as a good apprentice for our spymaster Vassily so hopefully our long-held plan of getting an undercover agent inside Oxford university will eventually come to fruition. It’ll very likely be years too late for our original purpose but any intelligence we can glean should still be interesting. Branwen is to take the ship to Cad Gadu and thence to the secret lair of her mater Diana, where she will hopefully learn the ritual to placate the man-hating new master of the Heart of the Forest. She seemed surprised and delighted to learn that this is to be deemed a covenant service but it’s only reasonable given tree-calming potions probably weren’t high on her to-do list.
Of other covenant services: Naevius will enchant an item to ward sword blows away from a man; our mighty lord and master Pyrrhus will extract vims vis; Terentius will wait a whiles before deciding but will likely head North again; and, I agreed to make further venture into the forest and surrounding villages to gain a greater sense of what if anything has changed there and or indeed any other news of interest in our locale.
A week after the council, Vassily reported strange news from Kidwelly. A fire has been seen in the sky above the castle there and the town, which is a fair size if my memory serves me right, has been abandoned. Kidwelly is part of the lands of the Baron of Swansea, lying some miles to the west of that place. Given the news was recent, Pyrrhus, Vassily, Captain Merrick and I set out to see if we could find out what was going on. We travelled mundanely, going by false names, Pyrrhus being one Adam Scrivener of Kings College Gloucester and I as Jarrett the bard.
As we walked, I spoke with Pyrrhus and he surprised me by regaling our group with his recent compositions of vulgar poetry – who knew he had it in him? I’ll spare the lurid details for the sake of my more prudish sodales here but will simply record that my favourite was one about a young maid from Cheshunt.
Anyway, although walking the roads is much slower than flying on conjured winds or in the form of a bird, it does allow you to pick up news as you go and to get a sense of the mood of the people in the region. In addition to being much better for information gathering, it’s also a lot more enjoyable as you often spend the night in an inn. I do love the Fox and Chicken but it’s nice to have some new haunts to have some fun in, even if the ale is often of poorer quality.
To prove my point, I can relay that the reconstruction of Chepstow continues apace and the folk there seem to have regained their optimism and hope for the town. We heard stories in Newport that indicate the Abbott of Tintern, of whom there is still no sign, is popularly believed to have run off with a mistress. More pertinent to our current journey was the word of a traveller who had heard a tale in Caerdydd that the devil’s ship had been seen off the coast of Tenby one night. The fisherman who told the tale to the traveller claimed to have seen a black ship with no lights aboard, swathed in mist. He said that it was a terrifying sight and in its wake a fog swept inland that made many people sicken. All in all, a lot of unnerving similarities to the reports of the UnNamed House’s ship that used to plague the South Welsh coast some years ago.
We found no news of such dread happenings in Caerdydd ourselves when we got there. However, in the village of St Brides Major, which lies about halfway ‘twixt Caerdydd and Swansea, we met a man who had passed by Kidwelly who reported that the farmhouses surrounding the town were all empty, with no people working in the fields. Further on, several people in Llansteffan spoke of seeing a green fire in the skies above Kidwelly, which they said was deserted. Unsurprisingly, rumours were rife as to the cause of it. The most popular one seemed to be that the devil had come in a ship and collected all the souls from Kidwelly.
Careful questioning of those who claimed to have seen the phenomenon for themselves suggested that there was no smoke associated with the fire. Indeed, the descriptions of green fire put me less in the mind of the infernal and more of the ‘barrow fire’ associated with the restless dead in Mynynd Myrddin, though such conflation may well be erroneous. Of note, we came across no witnesses from Kidwelly itself, a troubling point for with any wholly mundane disaster there should be at least a few survivors fleeing inland as refugees.
A day out from Kidwelly, after piecing together further tales and purported eyewitness accounts, a few common elements became clear. Whatever the event was, it occurred just on the night of the last day of winter, an hour or two after nightfall, thus putting my mind firmly back into thoughts of an infernal attack of some sort. The ship had been seen off the coast the afternoon before but when it came that eve it was accompanied by an acrid mist that stung the eyes. At that time, and indeed it remains the case as I write, the Baron of Swansea was away campaigning with the King as were several of the local knights, including the knight of Kidwelly.
The coast road that leads to Kidwelly is rocky and bleak, with a seeming constant biting wind coming in from the sea. Such wind was not however enough to shake the thick mist that we could see still hanging over the town as we rounded the final promontory and looked down into Kidwelly bay. Looming over the town from the other side of the bay, and high enough to be above the mist, stood Kidwelly castle. Although distant, there appeared to be signs of activity there with flags waving and guards moving on the wall.
We moved on cautiously and before long came across an abandoned-looking farmstead. In a paddock beside it we could see the rotting corpses of a half dozen pigs. There was no smoke coming from the chimney and the front door was banging in the wind. To add to my growing sense of unease, Races the Wind told me that his paw was tingling, always a sign of trouble to come.
As we carefully snuck forwards, I noticed the pitiful little body of a starling lying beside the path. Sensing an opportunity to learn something without getting any closer, I cast ‘Sense the Lingering Magic’ on it. The intellego magic revealed the bird had been affected by a malign non-hermetic spell, akin to some sort of perdo effect of significant magnitude with a sigil of a ribbon of green flame.
Merrick bravely crept up to the cottage and peered in through the window, through which he reported seeing three decaying human corpses lying in the bed. With just under half the short winter’s day left, and giving the cottage a wide berth, we walked down towards Kidwelly town. We could see figures moving within the mist, likely soldiers loading something onto a wagon. Discretion being the better part of valour, and minds still fixed on the likelihood of the mist being imbued with some diabolic magic, we skirted round the town, sticking clear of the mist, and cautiously approached the castle.
Although the castle doors remained firmly shut, one of the soldiers inside was content to chat through a hatch in the sally gate. The man reported that there was a plague in the town, which their priest had said had blown in on a “foul wind”. They had heard no word of any other places being similarly afflicted.
With daylight beginning to fade, we decided to camp back on the easterly promontory, about a quarter of a mile from the farmstead as we at least knew the ground around it and were not sure about what the castle soldiers and priest might think of unknown travellers. It was an uncomfortable spot, with the constant wind blowing in from the sea and the patches of ground that didn’t have rocks stuck in them were covered in prickly gorse. On reflection, that may just be me getting soft from too many nights in taverns of late. Anyway, missing my domestic comforts or not, we settled in for an uneasy night with only our senses and Pyrrhus’s Ward Against the Infernal to protect us from whatever fell powers might be lurking out in the darkness.
Although the spell ‘Eyes of the Cat’ lent everyone a somewhat sinister look, which didn’t do much for my frayed nerves, it did allow us to spot something slinking low to the ground around the edge of the farm’s paddock. Pyrrhus flew off to investigate from what he hoped was the safety of the air and, on spotting a figure in the paddock, he conjured light which revealed a leathery humanoid figure gnawing on one of the rotten pig corpses. The figure recoiled and fled as the light touched it, and Pyrrhus withdrew back to our camp. We decided to wait until morning to investigate further and the rest of the night passed quietly and seemingly uneventfully.
Soon after dawn the next day, cloaked by the ‘Veil of Invisibility’, Pyrrhus, Races the Wind and I snuck back to the farm. We could clearly see fresh teeth marks on one of the pigs, quite large teeth by the looks of it too. We moved quietly to the door where Pyrrhus erected another ward, and then he tried to cast ‘Dust to Dust’ on the one human body he could see in the bed inside. The spell failed and a leathery hand pulled the blanket over its head. No mindless undead then but our Flambeau was not deterred and, with a smile playing on his lips, he let rip with the ‘Arc of Fiery Ribbons’ on the bed. The flimsy blanket offered little protection as the three bodies writhed and let out an inhuman keening as they burned.
Deciding not to risk poking around in the town with the possibility of both mundane and infernal trouble, with the latter quite possibly beyond the capabilities of Pyrrhus’s ward if the magnitude of the perdo magic on the dead starling was anything to go by, we returned to Swansea. From there we caught a ship to Holy Isle to report a likely incursion by the UnNamed House. However, that covenant was barred to us as the guards there reported that there were no magi there, as they had all departed more than a week previously. So, we wrote a letter describing what we had learnt about Kidwelly and left it with the sergeant there.
We then made our way to Caernavon and from there picked up the road to Cad Gadu covenant, or at least the forest that surrounds it. We found a group of the forest wardens and asked to be taken to the covenant. The wardens seemed more on edge than on my previous visit and, when questioned, told us that the tenor of the forest had changed. Some parts of the wood had become even more tangled and wild, and their patrols now stuck solely to the tracks and even those they trod with more care.
Despite this, we passed through the forest without incident and found the covenant in its usual carefree state. However, by the large oak in the covenant grounds, stood a second tree, the mortal remains of Llandolwyn after his final twilight.
Jari’s secret journal
Assuming of course that this was Llandolwyn’s actual final twilight. Judging by what’s been recorded in this journal about him, he seems to have had more lives than a cat. But I’m not going to put anything here to add any doubt, as if this is but another ruse, any motivation he has for hiding is likely a good one.
We spoke with Notaria and told her all we knew of the probable UnNamed House activity, staying long enough to scribe a thorough account for her to distribute to all who would want to know more of such as a matter of urgency.
Before we left, I also spoke about the changes to the forest with a new maga, or at least new enough that she had not been present last time I visited Cad Gadu, Maga Sertoria of House Merinita. She said that there had been no actual attacks on their patrols, rather a sense of a growing wildness.
With our duty duly discharged, we retraced our steps back to Chester and from there took ship back to Bristol and home. After discussing our findings with the council on our return, I agreed to spend the rest of my season's service investigating the Western side of our forest.
I was primarily looking for evidence of change in the forest since last I had visited, though in truth I couldn’t lay claim to more than a passing familiarity with the wood there despite having passed through the villages a few times now in the guise of a wandering minstrel.
Coleford, once a growing and bustling place, is now almost entirely surrounded by trees but the road linking it to Monmouth is still there and well-enough travelled to remain open I believe. There was no sign that any of the recent growth of trees had been cut back. This isn’t too surprising I suppose given the trees that border Coleford have always been part of the Royal Forest and the penalty for cutting trees in such is death by hanging. Inevitably, the place is not as prosperous as it once was, but my sense was that there was enough trade and people to ensure its longer-term viability. Speaking with the inhabitants, I didn’t have to press much at all to get tales about spirits and wizards in the forest but there wasn’t any overt hostility about such, just a pervasive faint unease about their proximity. Despite this, there was little sign of any great faith in the Church as a remedy for the deterioration in their situation and they were not unhappy at the reported fate of the Templar army that had sacked Chepstow.
The neighbouring village of Clearwell, whose growth had previously destroyed the magic in the caves bearing the same name, had suffered much worse. The road on from Coleford was so overgrown as to be hard to follow and I think it would be nigh on impossible to move carts of any size down it. This has left Clearwell very isolated and its future as a viable settlement looks bleak. The people seemed scared and those with the coin to do so have already left, leaving only the old and the poor behind. Were I the sentimental sort I might feel sad for these unfortunates who have been caught up in the fall out of conflicts ‘twixt forces beyond their ken but I’m not such a man and all that sprung to my mind was that it may be worth checking whether the regrowth of the forest has in any way caused any change in Clearwell Caves, whose spring could once be harvested for vis I believe.
Monmouth lies too far from the forest to have been impacted by its growth but news of the incident at Kidwelly had drifted there when I visited. The tales were of a miasma or ill wind that had brought a plague inland from the coast around Kidwelly. There was no sign of any stories about the dead coming back to ‘life’.
Travelling up to Ross along the northern forest road, the boughs of the trees edging the road were close enough to meet overhead but other than that the road remains as it once was. This means that Huntley priory is still as it ever was. I stayed the night there, making dutiful observance of their monastic hours. The monks were friendly enough but a little guarded with their opinions on the forest and I did not push them for their frank and firmly expressed opinion on the templars spoke volumes. They believe that the defeat of the templars was an ill omen and a sure sign that their god has forsaken England.
I pressed on into the northern part of the forest where it quickly became clear that there had been significant expansion of the trees beyond their previous range. I was able to reach Mitcheldean without too much difficulty though the road was disrupted enough by protruding roots and branches that I think wagons would find it hard going. I saw signs of recent felling and tree clearance to the northwest of the village. The knight was away, presumably off warring in the North of England, and there was no inn so trying to inveigle information from the insular and tight-lipped folk there was hard. The road is their primary trade route and the sudden growth of the forest has caused some merchants to switch to transporting their goods by barge, thereby cutting Mitcheldean out of the loop and hence the locals cutting back trees. It’s hard to blame them but with a psychotic misanthropic tree god ensconced in the Heart of the Forest we can’t allow this to stand.
The situation in the village of Huntley, a little further east, was similar. The forest wasn’t as dense there and the village was surrounded by a stockade but there had clearly been significant tree clearance to the north of the village in an attempt to reclaim valuable (to them at least) agricultural land. They had also been having similar issues to the folk in Mitcheldean in losing some passing trade to river traffic.
With their knight away too, it was readily apparent that the villagers had been quite intimidated by the changes in the forest and reclaiming the land from those trees had helped them to feel safer and more in control of matters. They do not believe that the trees around them form part of the Royal Forest so fixing this will likely require more than a legal edict and threat of force. Furthermore, they were planning further clearance of the trees where they have encroached on the road. It’s certainly going to be an interesting challenge resolving the opposing forces of a murderous forest deity and desperate locals whose future prosperity is at stake.
As I had no ideas of how to square that particular circle, other than the aforementioned and likely insufficient legal edict and threat of force, I spent the remainder of the season investigating the northeastern part of the forest to try and get a sense of the nature of the trees thereabouts. The forest is not wholly wild but it does appear to be old, as far as my hermetic magics could determine at least. However, even in this, the ‘lightest’ part of the Forest of the Dean, I could sense that the forest was watchful. It’s not surprising the local peasants are scared, they probably should be.
Summer
With suitable irony, as I looked out of my window before heading down to the council meeting, I couldn’t help notice that the forest surrounding our covenant looked particularly fair that morning. The sun was shining and the gentle breeze blowing through the window bore a rich scent of new growth.
Once we were all seated at council, our benevolent leader graciously permitted this humble scribe to tell the tale of our trip to Kidwelly and beyond. The tale set a sombre mood though there was little desire to probe further before Holy Isle had had chance to investigate, particularly given the likely puissance of the infernal wizard involved. The matter was thus set to one side pending further word from the Dedicated Covenant.
I then recounted what I had learnt about the western and northern reaches of the forest and how we might best put a stop to the tree felling before the great stag of the forest lays a curse on us or the Jack of the Green lashes out at us in its fury. Or of course both such events happening at once!
We discussed the possible options we had, which ranged from such predictable suggestions as burning the charcoal burners and other guilty peasants to charcoal, to the more prosaic but less homicidal such visiting as a magistrate and recompensing them for the inconvenience caused by the trees with large sums of cash, likely 500 to 600 pennies by our best estimate.
Faced with such handing over such a large sum to otherwise readily combustible mundane folk the council demanded further information to ensure that such cash outlay was absolutely necessary. I was duly dispatched back to confirm whether all the trees about each settlement were indeed part of the forest. While there, I noticed that the charcoal burners had indeed been busy cutting into some of the new growth and for a moment thought more favourably about the abyssal flame option. I was able to find a quiet spot to cast ‘Converse with Trees and Plants’ on a large beech and determined that it was indeed part of the forest, at least in its considered opinion. And, as usual with older trees, its considered opinion was very considered indeed!
With that I returned to the covenant and discussions began again. New options included repeated axe thievery, with the idea that peasants would only be able to afford a limited number of replacements, though there was some concern as to whether blame for such might be laid at the door of the faeries leading to the possibility of further poor consequences for the surrounding trees. As regular readers of this journal can likely imagine, the debate went on for some time, becoming increasingly bogged down in minutiae of each individual option. After some time, probably minutes, possibly hours, Pyrrhus mercifully brought things to a vote.
In the first vote, exemplifying Severn Temple’s proud independent tradition, the council voted 3 to 1 to wait until someone had fetched Hypathia. A second vote on whether to conduct an irregular campaign to slow down the tree cutting, whether blaming such on faeries or no, was a dead heat and Pyrrhus duly put that option out of its misery by exercising his authority to break the tie and vote it down.
Jari’s secret journal
I could sense that Pyrrhus was itching to just dump this all on the Guardians of the Forest, as if we courted such a role. To be fair, an ungenerous reader of past events might well conclude that I and my big mouth had indeed courted such, albeit inadvertently, but fortunately I think Pyrrhus was cowed by the thought of how cross Terentius would be at being held responsible for things not within his ready control.
Continuing the sylvan theme to our council meetings, Branwen asked who we thought would likely be the new Prima or Primus of House Ex Miscellania. She said that she thought it likely to be Maga Luddwyn and no one present had any knowledge to the contrary. There was a suggestion that a plan was probably in place for a smooth transition as we know that Llandolwyn had foreseen that he would soon be entering final twilight.
A fortnight later, with just Pyrrhus, Naevius and myself in the covenant, we received a letter from Terentius, written from the English army’s camp near York. The news was not especially uplifting for he wrote of how Hypathia had left the main army to pursue vengeance against the murderer of her brother. He said that he would attempt to find her but as a consequence he would not be back to the covenant as planned.
Terentius added that he had also spoken with her nephew, the new King, who had promised to use his influence to help us. As early proof of such, included with the letter was a writ from the Crown and Earl of Gloucester stating that there was to be no forest clearance around the settlements of Mitcheldean and Huntley with an annual stipend of 600d to be granted to the two villages by way of recompense.
Pyrrhus, with typical generosity and magnanimity of spirit, asked whether the ‘Guardians of the Forest’ should pay but Naevius spoke out immediately against such and guessing correctly which way I was likely to vote on such a matter Pyrrhus did not press for a vote.
Jari’s secret journal
I confess when Pyrrhus raised the question and it was just Naevius and I to vote alongside him I was pretty worried. Happily however, Naevius's sense of fair play, such as it is, kicked in as he recognised the injustice in such a motion. If only he could apply such fair-minded sentiments to having people put to death for magical accidents! Or am I being overly emotional in continually harking back to that one action of his? I will try and judge him more dispassionately in future, even though I very much doubt we’ll ever become friends. For now, I’ll content myself by noting that he’s no Pyrrhus!
Anyway, with the solution agreed on, so it was that I found myself dressed up in my magistrate robes and heading out of the covenant gates with the two most thuggish-looking grogs in the turb. I’d like to say that I’d been pressured into such a role against my better judgment but the truth is that I’m a bit of an easy mark when it comes to putting on a costume and acting out a role. I would have preferred to have been accompanied by more urbane fellows, but as it turned out the grogs I ended up with, Jessop and Rauf, fitted what I needed very well.
We made our way down the hill road through the greenwood, which still happily showed no overt sign of the Jack in the Green’s wrathful hand, and was a genuine pleasure to stroll through. From Lydney we caught the barge towards Gloucester and with a small extra payment the bargeman was happy to drop us off outside the city. From there we made our way along the road to Huntley in good time. My magistrate’s robes did the trick and the village steward David invited me into the manor house to discuss matters. I duly presented him with the writ. Although not too enthusiastic about it, especially in having to accept such with his master the knight away, my legal authority was clear and so he agreed to the settlement without much argument.
Mitcheldean did not go quite as easily. In truth I wasn’t expecting any great difficulty given my obvious legal authority and the generous sum of monies involved. But, with hindsight, I was enjoying the role of a haughty magistrate a little too much and not giving sufficient consideration as to how strongly the people who would be most affected by this, the villagers themselves, might feel.
At first the visit seemed to go fine as I spoke with the old man who had been left in charge by the knight. He was unenthusiastic about announcing the new agreement to the villagers himself so, to get him onside, I agreed to do so as a representative of the King’s law. It was then, as I stood before a crowd of the local peasantry having haughtily announced the edict and detailed the compensation they would receive, that I realised I had miscalculated.
I had been expecting a little anger given the old steward’s reluctance to be the one to stand up and tell them, but I hadn’t anticipated just how angry they would be nor how swiftly things could get out of hand. The villagers were clearly not at all happy with the ruling and as one, then a second and then a third shouted an indignant protest, still more joined in, until the entire crowd was baying its anger at me. I’ve never seen a riot up close and while I’ve read about its power of the mob in classical tales such as that of how Clodius used its power to force the great orator Cicero out of Rome, I clearly hadn’t taken the lesson of that tale to heart.
Jari’s secret journal
Even as I admit my mistakes my ego continues to run rampant with such a vainglorious comparison!
Within moments there were irate men pushing forwards, venting their fury at the deal I was trying to impose upon them. As I write now, I can look back with a detached interest at how members of the mob fed off each other’s anger and aggression, transforming the psyche of the group as a whole with alarming rapidity. However, in the moment it was impossible to feel in any way distant from my situation.
I realised with a sudden sick feeling that I was in serious danger. Even with two such hefty grogs in front of me I was being jostled and I could feel spittle landing on my face as red-faced men shouted abuse and grubby calloused fingers jabbed angrily at me. Although I dared not take my eyes off the ringleaders of the mob as I continued my protestations about my legal authority and the good coin they would get, I could sense at the edges of my vision the mob begin to encircle our small group. Running away was no longer much of an option. I started to quickly assess what spells I could bring to bear to save us, alright, me, but even assuming a ‘worry about the Code later’ viewpoint I was struggling to think of any spells that I could get off that would stop enough people quickly enough.
It was at this point that Jessop and Rauf stood strong. Whether they did so through duty, loyalty or a realisation that once things started they would be as much targets for the mob’s wrath as I would, I do not know. Jessop, although fat and somewhat ponderous, is a big and imposing man, and the war maul that he carried easily in his meaty hands must have helped his intimidation factor. I certainly wouldn’t have liked to get struck by him in a play fight let alone a real one!
Sensing that the crowd was on the verge of erupting into violence, the two grogs snarled threats at those bold enough to lay hands on them, shoving the ringleaders bodily backwards and readying their weapons. As those behind saw the bravest falter at the reality of taking on two large men at arms, who were clearly well acquainted with violence, the rest of the crowd simmered down as well and the fiery intensity of the situation died as quickly as it had flared up. With momentum lost, the mob dissolved into a disorganised rabble of grumbling peasants once more and the threat dissipated.
With my heart still pounding fit to burst in my chest, I waited until the villagers began to disperse before retreating, so as not to give them any chance to find their courage once more. After what seemed like a very long time indeed, but was probably but a few minutes, the peasants started moving back to their homes and, somewhat chastened, we returned to the manor house. The old steward did not say anything, but I could see the tremor in his hand as he poured us all a much-needed drink.
The next day, although I think it fair to say that we were not bid much of a fond farewell, we were able to return whence we had come without any problems. We delayed only to call at the three nearby charcoal burners to ensure that they too were been given due legal settlement to refrain from any further tree felling.
Once back in the covenant, I put the magistrate robes away, vowing to learn from the confrontation. Not that such things should not be attempted again of course but rather how they could be better handled in future. The power of the threat of brute violence was not lost on me either. With that in mind, I had a word with Captain Merrick and had Jessop and Rauf put on light duties for a week, along with a cash gift to reflect my gratitude and to hopefully help ensure further such loyalty in the future.
A couple of days near the end of the season, I saw that a familiar black steed, I won’t say horse, was back in the stables. Given what Terentius's letter had said, I decided it wise to give Hypathia some space until the autumn council.
Autumn
Terentius was also returned from the north and it was quickly apparent that he was not at all happy with Hypathia, our Tremere never being one to hide his feelings.
To summarise their news, York has been recaptured by the English and the Scots magus with a ghost familiar, or “fetch” as McKeidh referred to it, is dead. There are however still many surviving Scots men-at-arms and they are believed to be regrouping further North.
Ever opportunistic, the French King has raised an army and taken Bordeaux, a key city near the coast in the Southwest region of France. This leaves the new king of England, Aeddan II, somewhat stuck and fighting a war on two fronts, neither of which can be easily neglected.
Hypathia told her tale in an emotionless monotone. Magi from Borrea Tor and Eurus Aquilae have been making what investigation they can in the midst of a warzone. They believe that as many as three rogue magi may have aided the Scots during the battle for York, including one apparently specialising in perdo corporem spells and the terram specialist who was doggedly pursued by Terentius up in Yorkshire last autumn. The evidence indicates that that individual used his magicks to create a pit to blunt the English cavalry. A third maga, with the sigil of bloodshot eyes, who appears to prefer the forms of mentem and corporem, used spells to try and blind key members of the English army, including Terentius! With such aid and the strengths of York’s fortifications it is not surprising that the English army sustained heavy losses, though neither Hypathia nor Terentius knew if any of our local knights were among the dead. Unfortunately for the English, Robert de Brus escaped and it is believed he may seek to rally the Scots at Durham, an English city some 25 leagues further north, not too far from the border.
There was no further news from the war so we turned our attention once more to the issue of how best we might protect the forest from the local peasantry and avoid further hostilities with the Jack of the Green. I was asked whether or not the coin will work and while of course I cannot be sure, I think we did enough to ensure that they will listen at least in the short term. It was not a small amount of money that was handed over either and I was at least careful enough to ensure that the villagers knew that good monies were being paid for their agreement to leave the trees be.
Branwen reported that she has learnt some rites from her mater to help calm the trees, along with a recipe for a “herbalistic libation” which should boost such an effect though she was not sure how potent it would be on the Jack himself. The potion needs apples and cinnamon, as Branwen had foreseen in her vision on the Grey Hill last year.
I had thought that one of the old pagan forebears who once sat on our council might have brewed such a concoction before. So, in the hope of finding account of the efficacy of such, after the council was concluded I read back through the older tomes of this journal. Sadly, Cormoran, by all accounts a dedicated pagan and keen dabbler in magical endeavours beyond his ken, appears to be the only one who had any interest in apple-based brews. Sadly, all he seemed to do with them was to turn them into cider, which he would then get drunk on and proceed to wander round orchards loudly reciting bad apple-based poetry. It's not that I don't approve of such it's just that it's not of much help at the moment.
In any event, sourcing apples will of course be no problem but cinnamon is a rare and expensive spice so we will need to work to get some of that. Assuming we can find enough of it then Branwen believes she will be able to brew two doses in a season. She also said that she can teach the rites to others
Having learnt the spell ‘Free the Striding Tree’, I volunteered my services for the season to help move the most troublesome trees in the northern forest. Which is to say, those that encroach on crop fields, key roads or impinge on buildings and such like.
Next we turned our attention to Kidwelly, albeit briefly for there was no news to report from there though Vassily has the place and surrounding settlements under careful observation. Naevius then reported that he has finished the metal blade warding magical item and had duly granted possession of such to our good Captain. A worthy investment of time and vis given the great service that Merrick has already given this covenant.
Jari’s private journal
Hypathia seemed somewhat ‘off’ though given all the secrets and powers that she bears it’s impossible to say whether anything in particular is bothering her beyond the obvious. At least I was able to catch a glimpse of her dread sword firmly in its sheath. Also, I might be doing Branwen a disservice, but I’ll believe it when I see it about her teaching her rites to others!
Later that day, Terentius returned unexpectedly early from a foray abroad with Geddyn in tow. He’d seen the Holy Isle ship in Chepstow harbour while he was out and about and made himself known to them. Geddyn said that the ship that was seen off Kidwelly before the fog and fire in the sky was indeed well known to them though this was the first time they were aware of it having been seen in such waters. Previous sightings have all been clustered around Ireland and the Irish Sea. The owner of the green flame sigil is a necromancer who has not been seen in Stonehenge before. Geddyn and his fellows from Holy Isle have made extensive investigations in the waters off Kidwelly as well as the land thereabouts. Using mundane agents, they sought to find any report of such a ship moving further along the coast but despite searching as far down as Cornwall they could find no trace of it. Unfortunately, they have no idea why it came here nor what the true purpose of the attack was. He did note though that the UnNamed House has been growing bolder of late, especially in and around the Scottish islands.
All the recent turmoil in Loch Lagleann cannot have helped matters. Indeed, I wonder to what extent they are aware of the troubles afflicting that tribunal, whether through spies amidst the hermetic community there or through observation of changes to travel between covenants and so forth.
Geddyn did have some clues he could share though for McKeidh had used ‘Eyes of the Past’ in an attempt to determine what had happened in the town. As the mephitic fog rolled ominously over the town a group of men came ashore and stole into the church. Further investigation revealed that they went into the church’s crypt and there broke into the tomb of the current knight of Kidwelly’s father or grandfather. They took his sword and then departed back to the ship. Mundane spies subsequently revealed that the next day the priest and a party of men went down from the castle to the town to investigate what had happened and to deal with the bodies they would have seen lying about the place. Geddyn thinks that they probably dealt with most of the bodies but that some bodies remained long enough to rise as evil creatures such as those Pyrrhus destroyed in the farmhouse. Geddyn referred to such creatures as “lurkers” and said that they were infernal spirits of the third or fourth magnitude and thus could be warded or destroyed using vim magicks.
The word amongst those who had visited the town with the priest was that a plague had befallen the place. Certainly with the plague fires that were burning there it’s highly likely there will be no resettlement of the place given the presence of lurkers there. With that Geddyn departed to resume his investigations.
I spent the season in the northern reaches of our forest again, near Mitcheldean, moving trees away from the field markings that denote worked land there. Such a task required repeated castings of ‘Free the Striding Tree’ and I am happy to report that I had no magical mishaps casting numerous spells in the pressure of a dominion aura. However, on several occasions either my voice or the sound of the movement of trees disturbed the locals. While my voice is naturally always a delight to hear, the same cannot be said for large trees moving around at night. Despite casting the spells to move them, I found it slightly spooky watching them jerk, drag and claw their way across the ground in a wholly unnatural manner, all in the dead of night too, so I cannot imagine how unnerving it must have been for those folk who were woken from slumber by such sounds. A few brave souls, mostly the ones who had nearly lynched me earlier in the year, stepped out of their doorways with a lantern or torch but I used the covenant’s ‘Wand of Flames Extinguished’ to snuff out any light they bore and their courage died with the flame so I was not disturbed, nor did they get a close look at what exactly was happening.
Of course, any villagers with an ounce of intelligence must have noticed that trees had moved from the previous position but I am optimistic that as the trees were moving away from their homes and fields that they would have seen such as a relief. In time they will hopefully return to their normal lives without thinking too much about a few strange nights one autumn and the experience will leave naught in their minds save for a lingering hesitation to take an axe to a tree.
Jari’s private journal
On the night before our winter council, I received an unexpected visitor. Pyrrhus came to talk to me about a scheme he had to try and smooth things over with the Court of Stone. He plans to arrange to have Turold’s broken sword fixed and to return the reforged blade to Gofynnwy. The original deal to do such was of course fulfilled in 1305, albeit in a manner that doubtless rankles with Gofynnwy and Gofannon, and it was this damaged relationship that Pyrrhus seeks to rebuild.
At least that is what he claims, frankly I have concerns that he has been emboldened by getting the better of Gofynnwy before and now seeks more precious gems or other magical prizes. I counselled him to be cautious in any dealings with the Court of Stone, warning him that he could expect a stony welcome there and that it would be a rocky road back to a more friendly future with them but such puns were as wasted on him as my words of caution likely were.
Winter
Another winter dawned with no sign of snow and instead the shutters on the council chamber rattled with wind and heavy rain. I’m starting to see why so many previous magi have complained about the weather here!
I gave a quick report on my progress in moving the trees in the north of the forest and we then discussed what could or should be done about Clearwell and Coleford to the west. With no sign of any church or noble involvement it was deemed safe to merely task Vassily to keep those places under surveillance for now.
Talk then turned to Geddyn’s revelations about Kidwelly. Was the UnNamed House up to its old tricks of collecting special items? How might we identify the knight whose tomb they had robbed? Were we even sure that he was of the same family as the current knight? Such titles can change hands, especially in the turbulent times we live in. Were there any stories of a special sword in Kidwelly or more broadly along the coast of South Wales? Could it have been borne back from some far-off place by a knight away at war? Church records seemed to be the best place to start such an investigation but with the local knight away at war with the King and likely to be so for a good while yet, we agreed to wait until Spring to begin such.
A fortnight after the council, we were visited by Magus Gaines who was recently returned from Loch Lagleann. He had been visiting Bucholly Castle with Quaesitor Romanus and described it as a very odd place indeed. The inhabitants seemed wholly ignorant of the rest of the Order and there was an altogether strange ‘fluence about the place, much as Volutus reported when he visited in 1291. Anyway, they were able to study the tribunal records there and identify from records of sigils and so forth, those rogue magi from Loch Lagleann who have been aiding the Scots.
The magus with the spirit familiar or fetch, who was slain by Hypathia, was Ideth of Pitfichie Forest covenant and was some 130 years old. The others were all also from that covenant and indeed all from House Ex Miscellania. The terram magus with a sigil of splintered earth is Owun, who is in his seventies or eighties. The maga with a sigil of salted winds is Geira, who is 120 or so years old, while maga Sulia who bears the sigil or bloodshot eyes is a mere stripling in her sixties!
In other hermetic news, Gaines reported that McKeidh has called for a meeting of House Ex Miscellania at Cad Gadu in the summer of 1311.
In mundane news, the Pope has fled to the Southern French city of Avignon at the invitation of the French King, for Rome is now a hostile place to him. How this relates to previous machinations of the templars surrounding the pope I do not know. The Pope having mundane enemies strong enough to force him to flee Rome appears to be a good thing but it does put him in possible alliance with the King who even now wars against England.
The Teutonic knights have seized the port city of Gdansk on the Baltic coast. They have also taken control of a sizable area of land about it and thereby cut off the Kingdom of Poland from the sea. Their intentions are as yet unclear but their new proximity to the Domus Magnus of House Bjornaer is troubling.
All in all, a stark reminder that even with the templars beaten there are many foes still active on the continent.
There was nothing else of note that occurred during winter for me to record so on that cheery note I shall bring my year’s scribing to a close. I confess it was tempting to invent something else but I suspect Pyrrhus is cross enough with me already so I’d best to leave it here.