CARAAMON: moved Story of Tatia and Byron, The (book) to Story of Tatia and Byron (book)

2011-09-20T18:23:32Z

moved Story of Tatia and Byron, The (book) to Story of Tatia and Byron (book)

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CARAAMON: The Story of Tatia and Byron (book) moved to Story of Tatia and Byron, The (book)

2009-01-28T19:03:14Z

The Story of Tatia and Byron (book) moved to Story of Tatia and Byron, The (book)

← Older revision	Revision as of 14:03, 28 January 2009
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Maintenance script at 00:43, 20 November 2007

2007-11-20T00:43:00Z

Maintenance script: Book:MNcwSTB moved to The Story of Tatia and Byron (book)

2007-11-19T13:06:39Z

Book:MNcwSTB moved to The Story of Tatia and Byron (book)

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Maintenance script: New page: ==The Story of Tatia and Byron== from The Tales of Citharon WayGuester "You've been really quiet, Citharon," said the tall Elven ranger, as he tossed back the remains of ano...

2007-05-08T03:03:43Z

New page: ==The Story of Tatia and Byron== from The Tales of Citharon WayGuester "You've been really quiet, Citharon," said the tall Elven ranger, as he tossed back the remains of ano...

New page

==The Story of Tatia and Byron==
from The Tales of Citharon WayGuester

"You've been really quiet, Citharon," said the tall Elven ranger,
as he tossed back the remains of another mug of ale. "By real, I
mean unusually so. As in only telling us one tale so far this
night, and here it is time for the false dawn."

The Halfling bard grinned lazily. "Friend Acton, my mouth has
been busy nonetheless." He pointed a pudgy finger at five empty
mugs dripping with the remains of ale. They were stacked pyramid
fashion on the table, two straddling three. A sixth, full mug,
clearly intended to crown the rest, was in Citharon's hand.

"Well," rumbled a Dwarf from somewhere deep in his graying
beard-- "will ye no' consider one more tale? I can smell my
guardin' shift hobblin' this way, and it stinks."

Citharon stretched. "I suppose so, Maur, if you'll buy me a set
tomorrow night."

Maur snorted, a sound that woke a few of the tavern's more
relaxed inmates. "I do that, and I'll have ta run extra duty ta
pay the rent. You're a tiny fiend, Citharon-- but done and done.
Fair price for your tale."

"All right, then." The bard meditatively stroked the six strings
of his biabli. "But mark, nothing epic. I won't speak of kingdoms
lost, doomed lovers or cursed items. I'll tell you a true tale of
something that happened once not too long ago in Riverhaven. It's
not spoken of very much, because few people know the real story.
But I had it from several reliable sources, and went there myself
to check it out once." Citharon paused, and his eyes seemed to
briefly focus on the events of another time and place. Abruptly he
shuddered, and a took a swig of his ale.

"Well, at one time there was a wealthy, well-bred young man named
Byron Dunshade. He came of good human stock and had seen battle in
distant lands. When his parents died, and with no surviving kin,
Byron returned to the old Manor. He was sick of war, and as the
last surviving Dunshade, thoughts of marrying and raising a family
occurred to his mind.

"It chanced that the very first day after his return Byron met a
young woman. Her name was Tatia. She was fresh and winsome, and
she knew these things; what's more, she was unattached, and not a
little lonely after having brought several romances to unsuccessful
conclusion.

"Byron could have cared less about the casual facts of Tatia's
recent past. He only had eyes for this wonderful, beautiful
creature who appeared to have stepped out of a storybook-- a tale
of some raven-haired princess in a land faraway, gazing from the
window in a tower that touched the sunset for a knight unseen,
unknown, to share her life.

"And so he courted her. Often they were seen together, sometimes
in the company of other young people; though Byron found these
friends of Tatia rather thoughtless and shallow after the horrors
of war. Truth to tell, he only had eyes for Tatia, and the more he
studied her the more he found to admire in private, away from the
world's frivolity. She in turn was touched by all this attention
from a wealthy, well-placed young man; and as time went on, Tatia's
pleasure changed first into affection, and then to love.

"Within three months the nuptial bells sounded. Byron and Tatia
were married amid lace and orchids, opals and diamonds, green
lawns and blue skies and a moment that stretched beyond time into
a forever place called memory.

"Scarce a year after that they had a child, Laurel. In time she
displayed her mother's dark rich hair, her smile and laughter; and
Byron loved her.

"But Laurel's effect on Tatia was still greater. I produced this
child, ran the thought through her mind: I created life. For Tatia
who had never so much as considered her friends more than a series
of running social engagements, this fact was a personal revelation.
Byron's part in the matter was of no consequence. Tatia had made a
child...and Laurel was a work of art. Perfect in every way.

"From the start there was something in Tatia's attitude towards
Laurel which puzzled Byron-- a look, perhaps? A glance that
conveyed some emotion that Byron never received? But the squire
of Dunshade had nothing to complain about. His wife and child were
both incredibly beautiful, and like the Manor they were entirely
his to appreciate. His days and nights were filled with joy at the
pleasures they shared, whether it was something as simple as
lovemaking or as complex as taking a child out for a ride on a
swing.

"Yet gradually as the years progressed Tatia's attention became
increasingly focused on Laurel. She was the treasure of her
mother's delight, her every movement and gesture exquisite. She
still loved Byron-- was he not her husband, after all?-- but Laurel
was more than that.

"Byron took note of all this with growing resentment. He loved
Laurel, too-- did he not take her for walks and show her the
wonders of the Manor...? But, he reasoned, all things should be
in good measure. And Tatia was his wife, his love, his treasure,
who should be focusing more attention on him. He came to resent
Laurel's intrusion upon his life with Tatia, and every delighted
squeal of the child brought pain to the father's breast.

"Tatia remained oblivious to her husband's dark silences and mute
stares. Her joy in Laurel rose at sunrise and only drew rest at
night. Meanwhile Byron's schedule had gone in the opposite
direction. He became nocturnal, spending long and longer hours
in his study, trying to put the thought of his wife from his mind.
Of course he did nothing of the kind. She was everywhere, because
she was nowhere. He felt her absence like a red hot iron burning
in his heart. Byron touched little food but drank incessantly, and
read the love poetry he had written to Tatia during the days of
their courtship.

"Finally, one evening, Byron decided to gather his courage and end
the madness about him. Calmly he removed a long, elegant letter
opener from his desk and rose. It was Laurel's hour for bed, he
recalled - as if he could forget. He mounted the staircase, and
entered the child's bedroom. There before him stood the mother,
smiling on her babe, and Laurel, sitting on the soft mattress. The
child saw him; her eyes lighted up; she shrieked in delight, and
waved with both hands.

"Byron's hand slashed outwards with a strength and accuracy
worthy of a one who had fought long and hard in foreign lands
against the forces of darkness. Laurel fell forward dead, her
trusting smile fixed. A woman's scream blazed across the room.

"Tatia...? Tatia! recalled Byron, and he turned. She stood
there looking at him-- at last, looking at him!-- but in her gaze
was only horror. Where was the love he had sought to return to
them both? Byron's cold fury suddenly took flame. He tossed away
the letter opener and grasped a fireplace shovel. Then as Tatia
screamed again Byron hit her...and again...and again...and again.
Then he fell to the floor, wracked in sobs.

"Late that morning Byron awoke. He saw Tatia stretched before
him in a dark pool of blood. The wedding ring upon her finger
winked at him, and instantly he knew what he must do.

"Byron weaved up the stairs like a drunken man, tears streaming
from his eyes. Carefully he opened a window in the attic, and
climbed out. Flattening himself against the ramparts, his eyes
automatically searched the horizon for the one thing they delighted
in; then memory returned. With a final cry of 'Tatia!' Byron threw
himself upon the bright spikes that lined Dunshade Manor's wall.
He shuddered once, then lay quiet."

Citharon sat back in his chair and ceased to speak. For a long
moment the tavern's other habitues remained silent as well, and
no one, not even the dog with its incessant itch, cared to move.

At length Acton cleared his throat. "I thought you said there
was nothing lost here, Citharon," he said.

The Halfling stirred, and blinked. "Hmmm? I said there were no
kingdoms lost, doomed lovers or cursed items. Yes."

"Well, it seems to me - and begging your pardon, I'm no bard,
mind you - that the kingdom of love was lost. The lovers were
doomed by their own way of looking at things, and the cursed item
was surely the innocent babe."

Citharon nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose it is an epic of sorts,
at that. But there's still this difference: most epics are buffed
up tales of long ago, as real as Pontificus' rainbow armor. The
epic of Byron and Tatia Dunshade, now, that's real. And the proof
lies in the old Dunshade Manor itself, if you have the stomach to
look for it."

Then an unusually sober Citharon took a long, hard swig of his
mulled wine, and stared at the grinning fire.
[[Category:Book]]

← Older revision		Revision as of 19:43, 19 November 2007
Line 1:		Line 1:
	==The Story of Tatia and Byron==		==The Story of Tatia and Byron==
	from The Tales of Citharon WayGuester		from The Tales of [[Citharon]] WayGuester

	"You've been really quiet, Citharon," said the tall Elven ranger,		"You've been really quiet, Citharon," said the tall Elven ranger,
Line 28:		Line 28:
	of his biabli. "But mark, nothing epic. I won't speak of kingdoms		of his biabli. "But mark, nothing epic. I won't speak of kingdoms
	lost, doomed lovers or cursed items. I'll tell you a true tale of		lost, doomed lovers or cursed items. I'll tell you a true tale of
	something that happened once not too long ago in Riverhaven. It's		something that happened once not too long ago in [[Riverhaven]]. It's
	not spoken of very much, because few people know the real story.		not spoken of very much, because few people know the real story.
	But I had it from several reliable sources, and went there myself		But I had it from several reliable sources, and went there myself
Line 36:		Line 36:

	"Well, at one time there was a wealthy, well-bred young man named		"Well, at one time there was a wealthy, well-bred young man named
	Byron Dunshade. He came of good human stock and had seen battle in		[[Byron]] [[Dunshade]]. He came of good human stock and had seen battle in
	distant lands. When his parents died, and with no surviving kin,		distant lands. When his parents died, and with no surviving kin,
	Byron returned to the old Manor. He was sick of war, and as the		Byron returned to the old Manor. He was sick of war, and as the
Line 43:		Line 43:

	"It chanced that the very first day after his return Byron met a		"It chanced that the very first day after his return Byron met a
	young woman. Her name was Tatia. She was fresh and winsome, and		young woman. Her name was [[Tatia]]. She was fresh and winsome, and
	she knew these things; what's more, she was unattached, and not a		she knew these things; what's more, she was unattached, and not a
	little lonely after having brought several romances to unsuccessful		little lonely after having brought several romances to unsuccessful
Line 69:		Line 69:
	a forever place called memory.		a forever place called memory.

	"Scarce a year after that they had a child, Laurel. In time she		"Scarce a year after that they had a child, [[Laurel]]. In time she
	displayed her mother's dark rich hair, her smile and laughter; and		displayed her mother's dark rich hair, her smile and laughter; and
	Byron loved her.		Byron loved her.
Line 166:		Line 166:
	Citharon nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose it is an epic of sorts,		Citharon nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose it is an epic of sorts,
	at that. But there's still this difference: most epics are buffed		at that. But there's still this difference: most epics are buffed
	up tales of long ago, as real as Pontificus' rainbow armor. The		up tales of long ago, as real as [[Pontificus]]' rainbow armor. The
	epic of Byron and Tatia Dunshade, now, that's real. And the proof		epic of Byron and Tatia Dunshade, now, that's real. And the proof
	lies in the old Dunshade Manor itself, if you have the stomach to		lies in the old Dunshade Manor itself, if you have the stomach to
Line 173:		Line 173:
	Then an unusually sober Citharon took a long, hard swig of his		Then an unusually sober Citharon took a long, hard swig of his
	mulled wine, and stared at the grinning fire.		mulled wine, and stared at the grinning fire.

	[[Category:Book]]		[[Category:Book]]

Story of Tatia and Byron (book) - Revision history

CARAAMON: moved Story of Tatia and Byron, The (book) to Story of Tatia and Byron (book)

CARAAMON: The Story of Tatia and Byron (book) moved to Story of Tatia and Byron, The (book)

Maintenance script at 00:43, 20 November 2007

Maintenance script: Book:MNcwSTB moved to The Story of Tatia and Byron (book)

Maintenance script: New page: ==The Story of Tatia and Byron== from The Tales of Citharon WayGuester "You've been really quiet, Citharon," said the tall Elven ranger, as he tossed back the remains of ano...