Epistolary Novel

[Elkhound]

Basically, all his higher thought processes ground to a halt.  The led him down to the courtyard behind the kitchens and gave him an ax and a bunch of firewood.  He didn't remember anything until several hours later when all the firewood was split, he was exhausted, and his wife had a baby boy.

[Shiral]

All Saint's Day, November 1, 1128
Lord Brecon Ramsay-Quinnell, Earl of Kilarden and Culdi unto
  Jolyon Ramsay, Duke of Laas.
My honored Father,

I beg your pardon for my silence up until now since Richelle and I ventured north to Kilarden to make ourselves known to our County subjects early in October.  We have been much occupied by what we have discovered concerning the state of our new Estate. I must confess, Father that after the heady joy I felt during the wedding festivities in Rhemuth this past summer, the reality of being a newly minted Earl has been a shock not unlike a bucket of snow dumped over my head.  In many respects, the present finances of the County of Kilarden can only be regarded as dire.

    We both know that the Lady Caitrin was neither patient, nor overly sympathetic with the financial difficulties of her vassals when it came to mustering the men and monies she required to fight the Haldanes. Even when many of those financial difficulties were either directly or indirectly caused by the stubbornness of the Quinnell's impossible dream of ruling Meara as an independent principality. It is my belief, that had it not been for her decisive defeat at the hands of King Kelson in 1124, coupled with the deaths of her husband and children and her own child-bearing years being irrevocably behind her, Caitrin Quinnell would have kept rattling her saber at the Haldanes until she herself died on the battlefield, and all the old Mearan nobility either dead around her, or reduced at last to utter penury.  We may all be grateful that she is no longer in a position to keep stoking those useless old dreams of Mearan sovreignty.

    Which brings me back to the topic of the finances of the County of Kilarden.  My unfortunate predecessor, Earl Ros Kincaid was wholly loyal to the Quinnell cause, and in any case, I doubt he dared to refuse Lady Caitrin anything, given that he was her close kin through marriage. But their loyalty cost the Kincaids dearly. Their fortune, never very large, had been steadily reduced with each new generation and each new Mearan campaign over the past century. Leaving them with a smaller income and fewer options with which to repair and rebuild their fortunes each time, only to have the pattern repeat all over again. Earl Ros was forced not only to sell off tracts of his lands,  but also most of his remaining livestock in the months before the campaign of 1124. He died in custody, deeply in debt to almost everyone he knew, with scarcely a silver half-royal to call his own.

    In your most recent letter, you ask how I find the general mood of the Kilardeners, and whether they still harbor dreams of rebellion and of a free and independent Meara.  I believe I can set your worries at rest on this score, Father. While they may still give lip service to that dream in the taverns, I believe that is all it is, anymore. They are hard, dour people, and while they may have given little regard to the marriage of Princess Roisian and King Malcolm in 1025, honesty compels them to admit the Quinnell's every attempt to regain independent rule of Meara ended in precisely the same way—with their defeat, and continued Haldane rule.  Even though old men still spit on the ground at the name of Donal Haldane, Kilardeners have a certain air of resignation, even relief that there is no need to keep fighting the same hopeless battles any longer.  Rather like a man relieved to know he can honorably stop hitting his head against an immobile stone wall.

       Richelle sends her loving greetings to you and to Mother. I can only attribute my immense good fortune at having this peerless woman for my wife to the mysterious kindness of the King and of God. I'm sorry to tell you that Deheuwynt Manor, the family seat of the Kincaids and now the Ramsays, is in a terrible state of neglect, due mostly to Earl Ros' financial troubles. Standing empty since his death has only intensified the damage.  Both Richelle and I were shocked at its rundown condition when we arrived on a wet afternoon just over three weeks ago. The place is filled with leaks, creaks, draughts, and is infested with timber destroying insects, spiders and mice.  I think it is still standing mainly out of habit.  Truly, we could have continued camping with a greater degree of comfort.   I am mortified that I have no better household to offer my lady wife. For a woman who has lived amid the splendors of Horthanthy and Rhemuth castle all her life, her new home must seem extremely primitive to Richelle.  Even Laas Keep, fortress though it is, seems like a bower of luxury by comparison. With her sister being feted as the new Queen back in Rhemuth, I would not have blamed Richelle  for fits of temper worthy of what Mother can produce when she is dissatisfied with living arrangements. How could any woman not be conscious of gross injustice, after being dragged far from everyone she knows, and then discovering her new home is scarcely habitable once she got there?

   To my amazement, Richelle has not wasted an hour complaining. She is instead cheerful, courageous and resolute, turning her energy and skill to making Deheuwynt livable, if only temporarily.  She has been my helpmeet, chief advisor, and the source of great encouragement and comfort when I am most worried and distracted.  Reality compels us both to acknowledge the house truly needs to be torn down and rebuilt rather than attempt to salvage anything, so Richelle has been filled with enthusiastic plans and ideas to expand and improve it. All of her ideas are admirable and expensive. She is right of course for the place is very cramped even for the small household we brought with us. Hardly a worthy dwelling for a prosperous merchant, let alone an Earl with no room for the children we hope to have in the future. She teases me gently for my worries, even as she reassures me that our yearly income from Culdi is more than adequate for restoring  Deheuwynt to prosperity and good order while still allowing us a comfortable living. Which, thank the Lord, it is.

    Ah, money, Father! When you have it, it can purchase the way out of so many difficulties! I am a man simultaneously stunned both by my poverty and my immense new wealth. We have  used a portion of our Culdi income to repay some of Earl Ros' most pressing debts—Richelle's idea, once again. The cost has been well worth it, in terms of securing the goodwill of our new subjects and neighbors.  Fine words are all very well, but they are more disposed to believe in my good intentions, now that I have repaid the sums they were owed. Kilardeners are a painfully practical people. Of course, many of them have had their own financial worries, thanks to all the  years spent fruitlessly fighting the Haldanes. They sound cautiously hopeful of regaining prosperity, even if it means they will do so under Haldane rule.

    As I write this letter in our solar, I see improvements wherever I look. A modest dairy herd grazes in the little pasture beneath the solar window, and I can hear the twenty fine new ewes we purchased at the Harvest Home Fair in Castleroo  bleating down in our sheepfold.  Chickens, ducks and geese populate the yard, and splash in the pond, once again. Thatchers have repaired the worst leaks in the roof above the solar and hall, and the servants Richelle has recruited among the local people  have cleaned the place from roof tree to door post. The new tapestries and curtains we also purchased in Castleroo beautify the place and insulate us from the worst of the draughts, making the solar and hall much more tolerable than it was the day we arrived. But we will not be wintering here in Kilarden –when winter comes in earnest it will bite deep and hard, and the house cannot be made genuinely weather fast in so short a time. It would not be a good investment in any case, since major rebuilding and construction will start in the spring.

    Richelle has effortlessly established her authority as mistress of her household, and has also apparently won the loyalty of our new servants, having learned all their names.  She speaks to them with a blend of authority and kindness, and wonder of wonders in this country where Haldanes are not best loved, they obey her promptly and with good grace. Of course, neither she nor I emphasize her being the niece of Donal Haldane, still called "The Black Prince" in Kilarden when they're not calling him something worse.     

      When I reflect at all that I am now kin to Queen Araxie and by extension to King Kelson, it stops me in my tracks through sheer surprise. I, Brecon Ramsay of Cloome,  am brother-in-law to the Queen of Gwynedd? Richelle is teaching me how to be a proper Lord, since my rapid rise in rank through my marriage to her has left me but little time to learn the social niceties and manners expected of an Earl anywhere, but especially at Court in Rhemuth.  Whatever else I may be, I hope to never cause Richelle embarrassment or humiliation through ignorance or lack of couth.  My Lady's teaching is so gentle and effective, I trust I shall avoid any glaring social errors when she and I return to Rhemuth with Rory and Noelie next month for Christmas Court.

I am, as ever
Your dutiful and loyal son,
Brecon Jolyon Ramsay-Quinnell

[Evie]

Awesome story, Shiral!  Now if we can get you to grace the Fanfic Board more often....   

[Elkhound]

A very good story!  Thank you.

[Jerusha]

Excellent story (letter) Shiral!   I especially liked the comment that the house was still standing "mainly out of habit." 

[drakensis]

Nicely written and on a subject worth the attention.

[Laurna]

Excellent story (letter) Shiral!   I especially liked the comment that the house was still standing "mainly out of habit." 

That line gave me a smile too.

Wonderful set up of these two people. I would love to read more about them. I could well understand Earl Brecon stressing over what he perceives as a difficult place to bring his noble bride. And I love how Countess Richelle is up to the task and making it work.  I just hope that they winter over in Culdi. I can not even begin to imagine how cold and wet Kilarden would be in the winter without a good fortified castle to live in.

[revanne]

Lovely story. Can I affirm that winter's in the north-west of Gwynedd definitely require  weather proof housing. Not so much cold as rain and gales.

[Evie]

Excellent story (letter) Shiral!   I especially liked the comment that the house was still standing "mainly out of habit." 

That line gave me a smile too.

Me too!  It reminded me of a similar line I heard elsewhere about a house that was still standing "only because the roaches are holding hands in a prayer circle around the place." 

[Laurna]

Excellent story (letter) Shiral!   I especially liked the comment that the house was still standing "mainly out of habit." 

That line gave me a smile too.

Me too!  It reminded me of a similar line I heard elsewhere about a house that was still standing "only because the roaches are holding hands in a prayer circle around the place." 

My mom often said, our old house was standing only because the termites were holding hands. 

[Shiral]

Giggling at the idea of a cockroach prayer circle.  ;)Thanks for the comments, all.  If you think Jorian is bossy though, Brecon and Richelle have been downright pesky. They didn't get a lot of "screen time" in KKB, and I've been wondering ever since how Richelle dealt with being packed off to wild  Meara--not at all the atmosphere she's used to-- when her sister gets to be Queen. Yes, she and Brecon love one another, but "There's a period of adjustment in every marriage" and they're going through one.

Melissa

[Laurna]

Nice!  Keep them talking to you. I would love to read more.

[Elkhound]

I second that.

[Shiral]

Jolyon finally talked.  Enjoy!

Duke Jolyon Ramsay-Quinnell
Duchy of Laas, Meara.
Martinmas, 1128
Dear Brecon,
Thank you for your report, and your letter from Kilarden. Your mother and I read it with great interest, finding it both reassuring as to the mood of Kilardeners, and dismaying as to the state of your new County holdings.  Your mother was   filled with such sympathetic indignation, she did a good bit of fuming over it that I'm grateful the King could not hear, given his patience with and generosity to our family over the summer. I'll warrant His Majesty's ears must have tingled a bit, even so, for she was going on about "an empty title  and a rundown shack for a home"  for at least an hour or two until I reminded her how proud she had been that you were now an Earl in your own right on your wedding day.

You and I are of a single mind when it comes to being grateful Lady Caitrin is now permanently out of the picture, Brecon.  Meara at peace under Haldane rule is a good place to live, and it seems the Mearans are coming around to that view, also. It's one thing to be determined and win against fearsome odds. It's quite another to be so purblind obstinate and wedded to an idea that you refuse to accept reality no matter how many times the lesson has been learned in the past.  Laas rumors have it that the Laasii, the old pagan tribe were the distant ancestors of the Quinnells and they were notorious for nursing extremely long grudges.  Legend has it that a Laasii chieftain once lost both his arms in one of their endless battles against the Dornantes tribe. But even literally unarmed, he still hopped after his opponent on one foot and kicked him from behind with his other until the man finished him off out of pure irritation.  If any part of that legend is true, then the Laasii  were indeed, fitting antecedents of  the Quinnells.

   Princess Annalind and her descendents all went through life convinced that "just one more campaign" would restore independent rule of Meara to the Quinnells, but always ended up fleeing to the Connait in fear of their rebellious lives, instead.  I only met her in person once or twice, but I believe Caitrin was the most obstinate one of them all.  She had her whole family under her thumb from the time she was old enough to assert herself, including her poor old father, Prince Judhael. He would probably have been better off living as a gentleman scholar down in Howicce  if she had let him follow his more natural inclinations. I'm sure her obsession over ruling Meara drew her to Francis and Derek Delaney; they were three of a kind when it came to restoring Mearan independence.  Then two months after her infant son died and Derek Delaney was executed by King Brion, Caitrin turned around and married poor Sicard MacArdry and had three more children by him when she should have been well past her child-bearing years, even then. She always was tougher than a mountain goat, more's the pity. In the end the foolish, stubborn old woman had to lose everyone she'd ever cared for—both her husbands, all her children--and see  Laas besieged and her nephew beheaded before her before she could finally admit defeat and surrender.

It's still hard for me to believe anyone as hell-bent as Caitrin was actually did die, but I suppose she'd lost her main purpose in life. She'll have had plenty to answer for when she met St. Peter at the gates last autumn.  Last summer, I dared ask the King why he had not executed Caitrin at the end of his 1124 campaign  when no one would have questioned his right to do so. He was much more frank and forthcoming than I'd thought he'd be.  He told me he hadn't executed her because he did not want anyone to be able to make a martyr of her. He got credit for appearing merciful to his defeated opponent and an elderly woman, and Caitrin had to spend the rest of her life walled up in a convent, knowing she was forgotten and irrelevant to the outside world. A far more galling punishment for her than facing the executioner for a quick clean death, as Father Judhael did.  His was the only Quinnell loss I genuinely regretted. He was a fine man and priest, but he too, proved to be over-ambitious. A Quinnell, after all.  So he ended up under Caitrin's thumb also, when it would have been wiser to flee from her.

    Give your dear Richelle my most loving greeting and blessings. I've thought her bonny from the day we first met her at your betrothal, and Heaven knows she is already a welcome addition to our family. Your account of her good sense and her capability as mistress of your household in your letter has only raised her farther in my estimation. Truly, Brecon, a woman who can keep her temper and her sense of humor in the face of discomfort and inconvenience will do more to promote marital harmony than all the beauty in the world, Not that I've ever thought her as less than lovely, I hasten to add. But neither of you will be twenty forever. That Richelle can be cheerful and industrious when she is both far from home and very much out of her element is everything to her credit. Still more so when as you point out, she has been born to so much more, and knows that her sister is currently the toast of Rhemuth. Allow her to build whatever new home she wants next spring—the Countess of Culdi can well afford a new manor house—or a castle, for that matter!  That too, will promote marital harmony, and a comfortable home will make an immense difference to both of you in years to come. When the King and Queen next progress through Kilarden, you need not be embarrassed to host them in an expanded and improved manor house at Deheuwynt. A comfortable room for your mother and I will also prevent the ruin of Richelle's supply of crockery whenever we visit. And of course, you'll need more room for your eventual children.  Nothing can be a greater curse for a new bride than impatient in-laws, but when you have any definite news to send, know that your mother and I will be delighted to learn we will be grandparents.

   I praise you both for your sound financial decisions since arriving in Kilarden. Settling up Ros Kincaid's old debts was well done, and will have done more to earn their respect than even the most heartfelt words. So too, will your Kilardener subjects being able to feed their families through the winter.  Selling the wool from your sheep and carefully building up the flock will help to refill Deheuwynt's coffers without putting too much strain on your Culdi income. Both Kilarden Town and Castleroo are gaining a reputation as centers for good woolens and drapery, and there's always a profit to be made, there. Right now of course, you need a quick infusion of money to start restoring everything that has been neglected for so many years. Once Deheuwynt is at all solvent again, however, don't be too impatient to make up for lost time. Making it truly profitable again will take gradual building back up over the next few years. Slow, steady progress is best, when it comes to the land.

    Your mother and I are facing some practical difficulties settling here in Laas, ourselves. If becoming an Earl in your twenties is overwhelming, imagine what it is to become a Duke at fifty-one!  While the King's impulse was a generous one, I lie down each night entirely exhausted and wishing I could go back to simply being Sir Jolyon Ramsay of Cloome, again.   I have no  stomach to tell the King I never  really wanted to be a Duke, myself, though. Generosity on that scale must be lived with regardless of the complications it brings. Be assured I am not seriously thinking of renouncing my new title, not least because your mother would never forgive me if I tried. Being a Duchess has gone to her head like Mearan poteen, I'm afraid.

    The previous Duke of Laas and his direct heirs died at Killingford, and with the title lying vacant for so many years, nobody is certain anymore of the rightful extent of our property and income. Everyone in Laas has an opinion of course, but nobody really knows, and the arguments go around and around. Everywhere I look, I find that household accounts and record keeping has been frustratingly lax. No wonder the Quinnells were so often cash poor, since they were this bad at keeping records!  Never be careless about such things, Brecon. It may be tedious work, but keeping accurate records avoids a lot of trouble in the long run.  Carelessness on the master's part only invites your staff to take advantage of you.  With the help of two monks from Laas Abbey, I have spent the last fortnight trying to restore order from chaos, but some of the original  errors have to be traced back through years—even decades to discover when the original mistake was made. I may not be a great lord by birth, but God did grant me a good head for figures. Each time that we believe we are close to solving some problem though, we make more discoveries that simply create more complications for us all.

It drives your mother mad to be in this limbo; she would dearly like to be turning Laas Keep into our new home, but I cannot allow her to spend as lavishly as she would wish. I fear that once we do know what our rightful portion will be, it will be a disappointing fraction of what she hopes, even if it is two or three times what we  lived on perfectly comfortably down in Cloome throughout our marriage. There's no helping that, since everything in Meara is on a smaller scale than in Gwynedd. Nor can a long- vacant duchy compete with the wealth of Cassan or Corwyn. Nor will she ever be quite on the same social footing as the Duchess Richenda, or whomever Duke Dhugal takes to wife as his duchess. She continually grumbles about being stuck living in another woman's home, and that Caitrin had no taste. I cannot dispute the first complaint, but  I don't see that our living quarters are so terrible.  Grumbling about Caitrin's lack of domesticity  is not the most felicitous way she could establish herself as the new mistress of this household, alas.

Every now and then, I manage to tear myself from the household ledgers and sneak off for an afternoon of hawking. If a Duke can sneak, when he's followed onto the moors by half his new ducal household, that is.  I must admit, the countryside around Laas is a splendid place for hawking. I've even purchased an excellent new Merlin falcon—Anything she flies at, she catches. It's very nearly enough to reconcile me to my new rank and station. Have you had any time for sport up in Kilarden? Do not forget that some leisure is needed in your lives, to balance attention to your duties. We shall have to compare notes, the next time we are together.
God's blessings always upon both you and Richelle,
Your Father Jolyon ,
Duke of Laas.

[Elkhound]

Nice Monty Python reference there.