Traveller Inceptio

Report – Traveller 2

As expected, we stayed the night in Deor-lean on the Wye, and yes, I was the night’s entertainment.

I know we spoke at length about the feasibility of musical skills having any advantage, and I have to confirm that my ability to play an instrument was perfect for this type of mission. It was a gamble, yes, but it has paid off, as music gave me the introduction into Giolgrave that I so needed.

So, what do I play? Well, to be honest, you can’t really hear much of the music once the monks get started. They go absolutely crazy and yell and dance as if they are at a heavy metal concert. Even Brother Oeric dances until he drops, though I know alcohol has a lot to do with that. I stick to traditional Irish and English ballads, as well as a few tunes from the USA, and even Australia. They’re easy to play and so very popular. I try to add the right words to flatter the host. Examples are ‘Greensleeves’, ‘Gypsy Rover’, and ‘Scarborough Fair’ through to real beer-drinking songs such as ‘Drunken Sailor’, ‘Michael Finnegan’, and ‘The Yellow Rose of Texas’. I know when we practiced our musical abilities, it was hard on the team members who opted for other skillsets. I distinctly remember when Anderson once succinctly put it, “If I hear ‘Waltzing Matilda’ another fucking time, I think I’ll commit murder.”

Sweet vindication! ‘Waltzing Matilda’ is one of the more popular tunes.

So, typical to whenever I play, it can be a shambles. Last night I ended up being asked to repeat a tune again and again. It’s actually a lot of fun as the Saxons love to sing, laugh and party. It’s a lot like traditional English pubs where singing and dancing are a community affair enjoyed by all.

It’s always prudent to watch the room and change the mood if it gets too boisterous. Things can get melancholy when everyone’s drunk, so I move to more romantic or spiritual tunes to settle the mood before fights begin. By then, many of the men have collapsed into a heap on the floor to snore where they lie, while a few others decide to sort out old grievances with flailing, drunken fisticuffs, where any connected blow is more by good luck than skill. Noses get bloodied until combatants settle to sing arm-in-arm over a tankard of beor, best friends forever.

One item worthy of mention was how Eadric was targeted for the lusty attentions of a particularly buxom woman. Now, to be honest, I’ve not seen any overweight women in Saxon England. It must be a diet thing, but this young woman was big boned and in her late 20s at least, which by Saxon standards is positively middle-aged. I could’ve stepped in, as there were many pretty lasses making eyes at Eadric, but this woman kept them at bay. I thought it best not to intervene. I mean I’m obliged to look out for Eadric’s welfare, but there are some things the lad has to learn for himself. All I could do was make sure his pack was safe and that no-one was taking any aggressive interest.

I was having a little trouble myself. These Saxon girls are certainly an attractive lot, but it was getting late. The monks were spirited away to spare their souls from harm and many of the men snored on the floor.

Rather than crash on the floor amongst the noise, fish bones and dog shit, I found a covered haystack. It was private enough for me to make this report and send the day’s footage and images, but close enough to hear one amorous couple’s eager rutting. It didn’t last too long though, thankfully.

I wonder if it was young Eadric.