Story : Marcus and the manor

From Ars Magica

Marcus arose early, with the sun, a habit he had acquired on his various travels. Today it would be important that he be ready to attend mass at nones when most of the important people of the village would attend. He rolled off the pallet on which he had slept and pulled on his robe. First things first; he stepped out to the stable where he found Diarmait and Blathmac. The stableboy was already grooming the pair of mules, speaking to them in that strange language that Marcus had never understood but that the mules seemed to. Diarmait was leaning against the wall watching and greeted Marcus in lilting Gaelic when the magus entered. Marcus smiled and returned the greeting, continuing, "Dress as fine as you can you old pagan, it's to Mass you're going this morning."

"Pagan am I now," said Diarmait with a hint of the laugh which had given him his nickname, "then why am I off to Mass?" But he good naturedly began to look for his good tunic in one of the mule's packs.

"Blathmac, lad," said Marcus, "You must go down to the tavern as soon as you are done here, find Mnemosyne and put yourself at her service. They are going to go up the Mynd and may need your help. I expect they'll want to load some food onto one of the mules and you'll be needed to look after Greyface. Leave Whiskers here with me," Marcus held up a hand, "Whiskers will be fine in my care for a few days, truly he will. And I imagine the mounts of the others are more in need of your ministrations. Finish your brushing and go. If you want to come back for Mass and they can spare you, Diarmait and I will be there."

"Yes, Master Marcus," said Blathmac. "I'll be done here in just a few minutes and then I'll go."

"Good lad. Oh, and stop 'round the kitchen for a crust of bread on your way. I'm off there now. Diarmait?"

"Aye, 'Master Marcus', I'm ready," said the old warrior, now more suitably dressed in his clean tunic. "A crust of bread sounds fine." The two headed toward the priest's kitchen.