W
War of the Roses
Guest
We walked side by side down the long wide hall, grand arches stretched overhead, carved out of a gray stone. I was in awe of the wondrous architecture, vast staircases that reached to the galley ways that reached the length of the hall. Men and women alike wandered the hall, all dressed in simple and somber colored robes. Their voices rich and poetic as I overheard various conversations ranging from the art of inscribing scrolls, to the joyous tales of resurrection.
I felt utterly out of place, my kilt was tattered and worn, my shirt, once grand was soiled heavily, twigs and leaves clung to my long mauve colored hair. I was sure I was a horrid site to behold, yet each face turned and smiled kindly at me. It warmed this weary soul verily.
We stopped before a heavy Yew wood door, a high gleam came from the well oiled wood. The elderly man turned to me, his hand extending to the door.
“Mi'Lady, I do hope that you will find everything to tend to your needs. If you require anything at all there is a bell beside the bed. Warm water and fresh clothing will be brought to you straight away. “ He pushed the door open, then turned to leave. “A meal will be brought to you shortly as well.” With his finally words he shuffled quietly away.
I entered the small room, taking in it’s miniscule dimensions and rather stunning décor. A tapestry hung on the eastern wall over the bed, its colors vibrant in such a gray place, reds, golds and blues threaded in an intricate pattern of flowers, deep rich blues and emerald greens stood boldly upon the fine piece of work. A candle sat at the bedside on a small table casting a soft glow over the room, the bed looked lush, no doubt filled with down. A long mirror stood against a corner, next to it a desk. I smiled softly, the unobtrusive warmth of the room easing my troubled mind.
A knock on the door heralded the arrival of a large vat of lavender scented water, steam rose invitingly out of the bath. Following it a small girl, dressed in a pale crimson robe, looking to be no more that thirteen summers, her hands laden with new clothes.
“Ma’am?” Her tiny voice asked, the smile upon her rosy cheeks was endearing “His Eminence, Master Raynald, asked that I assist you in finding some comfort.” She carefully placed the clothes at the foot of the bed.
I could only smile at her, so overcome with this show of kindness that my voice would betray me for certain. She helped me remove my clothing and step into the warm bath. With practice fingers she lathered my tangled and hopelessly dirty hair, the action in itself soothing. After the fine bath and the new clothes I felt refreshed and alive.
The small girl dragged a chair in front of the mirror, then with brush in hand motioned for me to sit. She had said nary a word the entire time, yet she looked as though she had much to say. I rested in the chair, looking at myself for the first time in the mirror.
My face was clean and pale, more from the fright than natural coloring, lips full and colored a dark pink, my nose was tiny and slightly upturned, my hair was thick and wavy, hanging in tendrils to frame my face, the gentle angles of my jaw gave the appearance of a heart to the overall look of my countenance. But it was my eyes that startled me so, large and almond shaped, the lashes thick and long, a deep lustrous emerald color, so unlike any I had ever seen on another.
I could not help but smile at myself in the mirror, so plain my face was with its different parts, but my eyes! Oh they say the eyes are the windows of the soul, and if this is in fact then my soul holds much more than I ever thought.
“Ma’am..” The girl started, the brush running gently through my drying mass of waves. “ Can I ask your name?” She stammered a moment, then quickly followed the question with “If you are so inclined.”
“My name is Rose” I smiled at her in the mirror, and she returned in kind with a beaming grin.
“Mine is Lilly!” Her voice high and excited “Both of us named for flowers, how grand!”
She continued to ramble on, and I was of mind to let her talk, it was nice to hear a kind voice.
Later that evening, after a large meal of pecan stuffed fowl and a fine red wine, I retired for the eve. My body quickly responding to the warmth and lush comfort of the down bed. As I drifted off into desirous slumber, my thoughts wandered lightly over the days events, and Chicken...
To be Continued...
From the Journals of Rose Bush of Sonoma
<center>
</center>
<center>The Saga of Auburn Rose~Tale of Britannia</font color=FF3030></center>
I felt utterly out of place, my kilt was tattered and worn, my shirt, once grand was soiled heavily, twigs and leaves clung to my long mauve colored hair. I was sure I was a horrid site to behold, yet each face turned and smiled kindly at me. It warmed this weary soul verily.
We stopped before a heavy Yew wood door, a high gleam came from the well oiled wood. The elderly man turned to me, his hand extending to the door.
“Mi'Lady, I do hope that you will find everything to tend to your needs. If you require anything at all there is a bell beside the bed. Warm water and fresh clothing will be brought to you straight away. “ He pushed the door open, then turned to leave. “A meal will be brought to you shortly as well.” With his finally words he shuffled quietly away.
I entered the small room, taking in it’s miniscule dimensions and rather stunning décor. A tapestry hung on the eastern wall over the bed, its colors vibrant in such a gray place, reds, golds and blues threaded in an intricate pattern of flowers, deep rich blues and emerald greens stood boldly upon the fine piece of work. A candle sat at the bedside on a small table casting a soft glow over the room, the bed looked lush, no doubt filled with down. A long mirror stood against a corner, next to it a desk. I smiled softly, the unobtrusive warmth of the room easing my troubled mind.
A knock on the door heralded the arrival of a large vat of lavender scented water, steam rose invitingly out of the bath. Following it a small girl, dressed in a pale crimson robe, looking to be no more that thirteen summers, her hands laden with new clothes.
“Ma’am?” Her tiny voice asked, the smile upon her rosy cheeks was endearing “His Eminence, Master Raynald, asked that I assist you in finding some comfort.” She carefully placed the clothes at the foot of the bed.
I could only smile at her, so overcome with this show of kindness that my voice would betray me for certain. She helped me remove my clothing and step into the warm bath. With practice fingers she lathered my tangled and hopelessly dirty hair, the action in itself soothing. After the fine bath and the new clothes I felt refreshed and alive.
The small girl dragged a chair in front of the mirror, then with brush in hand motioned for me to sit. She had said nary a word the entire time, yet she looked as though she had much to say. I rested in the chair, looking at myself for the first time in the mirror.
My face was clean and pale, more from the fright than natural coloring, lips full and colored a dark pink, my nose was tiny and slightly upturned, my hair was thick and wavy, hanging in tendrils to frame my face, the gentle angles of my jaw gave the appearance of a heart to the overall look of my countenance. But it was my eyes that startled me so, large and almond shaped, the lashes thick and long, a deep lustrous emerald color, so unlike any I had ever seen on another.
I could not help but smile at myself in the mirror, so plain my face was with its different parts, but my eyes! Oh they say the eyes are the windows of the soul, and if this is in fact then my soul holds much more than I ever thought.
“Ma’am..” The girl started, the brush running gently through my drying mass of waves. “ Can I ask your name?” She stammered a moment, then quickly followed the question with “If you are so inclined.”
“My name is Rose” I smiled at her in the mirror, and she returned in kind with a beaming grin.
“Mine is Lilly!” Her voice high and excited “Both of us named for flowers, how grand!”
She continued to ramble on, and I was of mind to let her talk, it was nice to hear a kind voice.
Later that evening, after a large meal of pecan stuffed fowl and a fine red wine, I retired for the eve. My body quickly responding to the warmth and lush comfort of the down bed. As I drifted off into desirous slumber, my thoughts wandered lightly over the days events, and Chicken...
To be Continued...
From the Journals of Rose Bush of Sonoma
<center>
<center>The Saga of Auburn Rose~Tale of Britannia</font color=FF3030></center>
