February 1177
February 1177Eglantine was growing to loathe Theobald with a most uncharacteristic vigor.
Not only were they crossing a land of barbarians, but the weather was foul beyond expectation. They had traveled much longer and farther, under more primitive conditions, than Eglantine had ever expected.
And still, they were not there. She had never imagined Christendom to be so very large. She was chilled to the bone, her wet wool traveling kirtle weighed more than could be imagined and, worst of all, her feet were nigh frozen. She cursed Theobald soundly beneath her breath as she rode, surprising herself with her creativity.
It could not be said that their passing went unnoticed. Eglantine traveled with a retinue of some fifty souls, including maids and squires, stablehands and sc
