Humid weather.

It was definitely not the finest of all possible weather conditions to work in, at least that was what Elsie thought- well, at least it wasn’t raining. Apparently people preferred to work in the heat. When the weather glared down on you and bit into your flesh, when it literally made your clothes wet and stink. That was the life of the lower class people. The pheasants. There wasn’t anything better for them to do then work the fields, provide services to the rich, fight for causes they didn’t even understand and submit to those of higher rank. They really had no choice. They were caged in this world that seemed so bitterly prejudiced against them for doing a days hard work, or for not having the proper lineage, wealth or housing.

These people worked from sunrise to sundown, and for what?- Nothing. They literally were working just so those people that wore crowns could live a life of luxury and balance the fate of their people on the edge of their tongues. But with all this conscription it was the women who now began to work the land. There were no men around to do it- so they too, had no choice in the matter. It was a struggle, especially for those expected to do everything in the house, and raise the family. Where was the justice in this society?

Elsie had arrived in Lawley but two weeks before hand. It was hard to take in the chance of the atmosphere, and the change in her own brother. Everything changed though, didn’t it? And like everything else that went on around the place- they just had to accept it and battle on. Instead of committing to one job, Elsie had decided to rotate her services about to help the women of Lawley. She couldn’t intrude on her brother’s hospitality constantly- he needed his rest, so she decided to get out and help. She may not be able to change everything and make it easier, but a helping hand could never go wrong.

So, today she was helping the stables. Apparently quite a few people were expected to ride into today- and there was only the old blacksmith and his wife. Both of which, were elderly and barely able to handle the roughage of a spirited horse. Elsie had a little bit of experience with horses at the Garrison and she could clean stables and hold them if necessary- so, today she was working as the Blacksmith’s hand. She’d cleaned out two stalls already and laid them out with fresh bedding. She only hand another six to go. It was hard work, but her hands were used to that. The heat began to show, as beads of sweat doused her forehead. A smear of dirt caught her clothing, bits of straw stuck out from her hair and clothing but her eyes were determined. Work was work. It had to be done.

“Elsie,” the blacksmith called, “Can you bring that chestnut gelding in from the paddock. I need to check his feet before the cavalry come.”

“One moment,” she called out to him, placing the pitchfork up against the wall. An expected company would arrive soon, their horses would need to be over looked and would need a resting place for the night and it was the stables duty to offer them that. Elsie made her way out to the paddock where an eager looking chestnut grazed. She wasn’t overly confident with horses, barely had an idea of catching them too. She sighed and leaned against the fence, halter and lead rope in her hand.

How was she going to do this?

It wasn’t the sort of weather you wore armour in. Away from the conflicts of the boarder it wasn’t dangerous to go around without wearing it, but what happened to it while it wasn’t being worn and the unit was moving around was causing disagreements. The war horses could easily carry the weight of it, but they weren’t pack horses. Bringing the pack horses would almost double the number of horses the unit was taking with them, and apart from that slowing them down considerably the Captain – the only one of the group who’d been to this particular smithy before -didn’t think that there was going to be enough room for all the horses. Fergus had suggested that they left the armour behind for the moment and had someone send it on, but the suggestion hadn’t gone down well with the men who couldn’t afford to replace bits if they got lost. At that stage he’d left the Captain to work something out and let him know when they’d reached a decision.

They’d ended up with the pack horses and had set off earlier than originally planned to compensate, with the hope that the smithy could cope with the number of horses they were bringing or an alternative would present itself. By Fergus’s calculations – there was nothing else to do on a walking horse – they were more or less on time, perhaps a bit ahead. The Captain seemed pleased with their progress anyway, and as he was a natural pessimist about everything Fergus could only assume that this meant that things were going well.

Riding at the head of the column Fergus wasn’t aware just how much dust the horses were kicking up from the road, and as there wasn’t a cloud of dust obscuring his vision he could easily look over the fields and the peasants at work in them. Even from a distance he could tell that a lot of them were women, and with most of the men away at the border it wasn’t surprising. They still needed a harvest, and it didn’t just happen on its own. Even he knew that much, although he didn’t know what the women weren’t doing now they were working in place of the men. Hopefully nothing too important.

“Not long now, sir.” The Captain commented, and Fergus nodded, feeling his horse tensing beneath him and pulling back on the reigns to stop it from springing into a canter. It impatiently tossed its head, shying to one side and lifting its feet higher than necessary. Fergus pitied the blacksmith and his assistant, dealing with one highly strung horse was enough for him and they’d at least twenty that needed looking at.

Well, he could try and help them a bit with that by making sure the horse wasn’t trying to run the whole time.

“I’m going to ride on ahead.” There was a flicker of irritation on the Captain’s face which Fergus chose to ignore as he stopped pulling back on the reigns and allowed the animal to change the pace. They objected when he left them to do things, got irritated when he tried to help and while they never voiced these feelings they were clear as day to someone who was watching them as closely as Fergus did. It had reached the stage where, unless they were discussing tactics or battle plans, Fergus found it much easier to just tell them that he was doing something and leaving them to work around him. It was what people expected him to do most of the time, anyway.

It wasn’t a long ride, all too soon for the horse’s tastes Fergus was slowing them down again as they approached the small settlement. Two others had followed him, and to his dismay the area in front of the smithy seemed barely big enough to take three of the horses. And the blacksmith – if that was him, as he was wearing the appropriate apron Fergus was assuming he was – looked ancient.

((Sorry about the time take to reply. :) ))

Well, she couldn’t exactly stand around and wait for the horse to come to her. From previous experience she knew horses very rarely came wandering up to you unless you had food- which she lacked at the moment. Even then you could be standing around all day just waiting for them to pick up their heads and acknowledge your presence. Typical. She frowned. She had watched the men at the garrison a few times fetch their horses from a nearby corral, but she hadn’t had much first hand experience catching them. With a groan she unlatched the gate, moved through it, latched it back up again and set off across the small paddock towards the young chestnut. It had heard her coming- its head bolted up, ears perked forward, mouth still chewing. What came next she barely expected. It lowered its head taking up a few more blades of grass and then idly headed her way.

It stopped in front of her, and she reached out to place a friendly hand on its warm neck. Amazing. She placed the rope around the chestnuts neck, before fastening the halter to its head. It wasn’t that hard, however she contemplated over it for a few minutes before she satisfied. Finally the set off… across the paddock. Elsie was quite proud of herself. As she began unlatching the gate her eyes perked towards the fields where many women were labouring just to bring in the harvest. But, there was also a patch of dust along the road which indicated a convoy of travelling people and horses. Had she truly taken that long to retrieve this horse? For a moment she paused, only to be butted by the horse she was leading.

As she came up to the stables, she heard the rhythm of horse feet- not the one she was leading but another’s. The horse was shod, you could tell by the noise it’s feet were making. She hurried her stride, and the horse she lead responded picking his feet up. Within a few seconds they were entering the stables through the back entrance. She saw the blacksmith walking out to greet his customer- she had better hurry. She didn’t want to disappoint the man and not do enough beneficial work. She turned the chestnut into a clean and prepared stall, leaving his halter on for easy access. Working with horses when you didn’t exactly have that much experience with them could have you on the tip of your toes. These animals were bigger then you, they had a mind of their own-- that had many commoners generally nervous towards them. Elsie had been told that horses could sense the emotions of humans, so she tried to conceal any nervous tension she might have.

She came up beside the blacksmith not even taking a glance at the customer, and took his arm gently for added balance . He was a nice fellow, and she enjoyed spending time with his family. The blacksmith smiled at Elsie before rubbing his grey beard- perhaps trying to remember who he might be addressing. Then finally he spoke.

“Good day Sir, perhaps you would be the General?” The old mans eyes wandered up to his customer and he shook his head, “No. You’re to young a fellow to be the General. Hmmm… Elsie be a dear and take the fellows horse into the stables,” he gave her a weak nudge and then motioned towards an outdoor table prepared with food, by his wife, “If you wish, my wife has prepared some refreshments for the company.”

Without another word he unlatched himself from Elsie and wandered back into the stables. Elsie was stationary for the moment- unsure of how to act. She did not know who the blacksmith and his wife had been expecting- only that they were part of a large convoy headed this way. She did not want to ask questions- sometimes that was rude. So, she decided to wait for the rider to dismount before she did anything. Only now did she take a glance at the rider. He was young, and well clad- but not familiar to her eyes.