Gisborne . . .
‘Vasey and Gisborne arrived in Nottingham together, with papers from Prince John purportedly in the name of King Richard.
'Vasey and Gisborne arrived together . . .'
‘Vasey and Gisborne arrived in Nottingham together, with papers from Prince John purportedly in the name of King Richard.
'Vasey and Gisborne arrived together . . .'
The abbey’s soaring barrel-vaulted roof and its handsome wooden pews should have sustained me but as I knelt for what seemed hours, my hands knotted together, no vestige of relief came. Only a biting cold that soon had me shivering. As well that I shiver, I thought. It approximated the incipient fear that was beginning to stir. How dangerous it would be to work in a house that would entertain the high-born of far and wide. Prudence, you place yourself in peril.
This man had elevated me to a position of mild authority in a heartbeart. That he had no thought for anyone’s interests but his own was a surety. I knew of his lineage. Son of a Crusader and that father subsequently a leper. Son of a noble whose heritage was subsumed by greedier nobles and whose mother died when she should not have. A bitter man.
From http://butnotyet.wordpress.com/author/thefondimpossibility
This really brightened a day of writer’s block . . . from butnotyet.wordpress.com/author/thefondimpossibility and all because I write very occasionally about Richard Armitage’s alter egos in the form of fan-fiction. She says there’s no sunshine like men who wear black. To which I might just add . . . leather!
I washed, mended and folded not just his clothes but all those of the senior household members and at night was so exhausted, I could barely find a bed. I removed myself as far from others as I could and found a warm corner in a stall in the stables. I pilfered one of the heavy caparisons and wrapped myself in it for warmth and to protect my body from the scratching straw. But in truth I was so tired it wouldn’t have mattered if I had slept naked in a field of stubble.
With apologies etc etc etc . . . as before.
Of course, I lost my job and was cast onto the street with no back wages and had only a penny in my pocket. What does a penny buy these days? Our world is in a penny-pinching crisis, so precious little I can tell you.
What treats in amongst the drech of manuscript revision, the upsets with my dogs and the copious cooking required for shearing.
Last night I sat down for my regular hit of Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple on ABC-TV. It was, of course, a repeat. But there, lo, in a secondary role, was Richard Armitage. The first time I watched this series a couple of years ago, I didn’t know who Richard Armitage was and so his role passed me by. I think the production date was 2007 which may have been on the cusp of his rise. His face had less expression lines and his voice hadn’t quite the depth of later roles. And he was confined to a wheel-chair which reduced the expressiveness of his role even more. Having said that, the thing that I find most fascinating is watching how he has matured as an actor. This may well have been pre the seminal North and South.
I find it amazing that the Masked Ball fantasy flash-fiction, now over a month old, which used Richard Armitage’s Guy of Gisborne as the basis for the character of Niccolo de Fleury, is still getting views. For those who want to read the whole story, click on the chapters below, read and dream on!
‘De Fleury!’
Percy’s shout cut through the mood of the tango, creating a tension that vibrated like a viola string. The music faded and people turned. Percy stood at the far end of the ballroom, his evening dress immaculate, dark and elegant and complete with a white jabot that frothed and creamed at his throat. His hands were behind his back and he was statue-like, one foot forward, the buckles on his shoes shining. I could see Marguarite with Bacigalupo, virtually in the position they had been as the tango bent her back and Bacigalupo lay over her, vulpine, almost salivating. She pushed at him, her eyes on Percy.
As I continue to write The Shifu Cloth, my share of the blog posts for The Masked Ball, the short story for The Masked Ball miniature book and the edits to Paperweights, I am finding my mind has to compartmentalise. To be frank it isn’t easy and when I return to both Shifu Cloth and Paperweights, I find I have to read a significant amount of the previous chapters to ground myself in the flow of that particular work. Which is probably why I choose to make the story posts I contribute here, fairly light, spoofish and V.V. short. So here we go with my next contribution, with the help of the wicked face of Guy of Gisborne alias Niccolo de Fleury.