Lord Jollyrei was a man famed throughout France for his impeccable taste. Only the best was good enough for him, the architecture and artwork of Castle Jollyrei was exceptionally fine. Only the best horses filled his stables, only the best food graced his tables. The humblest kitchen maid was a sight for sore eyes, but his wife, the Lady Thessela, was the envy of the entire French aristocracy. Lord Jollyrei was an ardent admirer of beauty.
Nowhere was this more true than in the castle gardens. Impeccably manicured lawns wove between beds of flowers vibrant in their beauty and perfect in their balance of colour and size. Spectacular fountains played amid ornaments of the finest marble. On this particular day, even the weather was paying homage to Lord Jollyrei, for it could not be faulted, with just a few fluffy clouds adding interest to a deep blue sky in which a golden sun shone.
The only jarring note amid all this splendour was the solitary figure seated on a bench in the gardens. A passing observer would note from his mode of dress and his style of facial hair, which included a lengthy beard, that he was a magician or sorcerer of some kind. Yet that same observer also could not fail to be aware that he was a very unhappy sorcerer indeed.
He gazed, with unseeing eyes, at the fountains. He had chosen a spot in the shade of a tree, so the sun was entirely wasting its efforts on him. A flock of goldfinches, surely among the most cheering and heartlifting of birds, was waved away with irritation.
Two young ladies, determined to enjoy the clement weather while it lasted, entered the garden. One was dressed in the finest garments that money could buy, and our casual observer would have correctly concluded that she was the Lady Thessela herself. The other was equally lovely, but limped painfully, hanging onto Thessela’s arm for support with wrists that were themselves badly scarred.
“Ooh, Thessela, look! There’s Repertor, I haven’t seen him since we got here. Do let’s sit with him a while!”
“Oh, yes, Barb, shall we? I had such fun learning to fly dragons! I used to dread being eaten by them but actually they are lovely when you’re not their dinner! Hi Repertor!”
Repertor merely grunted in reply, but did not object when they each sat either side of him. Both started talking at once, thanking him for saving their lives, and telling him what a wonderful chap he was.
“I’m not wonderful, I’ve done far more harm than good!”
“Oh, Repertor, that is SO not true! You’ve no idea how much better my wrists look and feel without damn great nails sticking through them!”
“Yes, but now I have two women crucified instead of one, and one of them is Malins, who is my greatest friend in the universe, and now Kibonreju is more powerful than ever, and I have no idea what to do? Everything I do just makes things worse!”
“But…”
“There are no ‘buts’, Barbaria. He’ll get you back, he’s bound to. You’ll be back on a cross within a week, mark my words, so enjoy your freedom. There’s sod all I can do about it!”
Thessela cast about in the depths of her mind for things to do to cheer up a Depressed Wizard, without much success. They tried telling him how smoothly the part of the plan to release Barb had gone, but he merely reproached himself yet again for not forseeing the fog trick, and for allowing Messa and Malins to fall into Kibonreju’s evil clutches.
“Repertor, please! Do buck up!” Thessela went for the direct approach. “You are Messaline and Malins’ only hope of rescue! If what you say is true, you are Barb’s only hope of staying uncrucified!”
“Repertor, I can’t go back on a cross! I just can’t!” Barb shuddered at the thought of losing her new-found freedom. "Please! Do something!"
But it was no good. Nothing they said or did seemed to help, and in the end the two ladies gave up, and left him.
“What are we going to do, Thess? We can’t just leave the girls with Kibonreju, but with Repertor in that mood……”
“The others are just as bad. The only one with any backbone is Roland. Pilus was already desolated about Malins and Messaline, and after a full day of Repertor’s jollity on the way here he hasn’t left his room since arriving! He’s barely had a scrap to eat! Wragg’s all for clearing off back to England, and taking you with him, he certainly isn’t interested in heading back to Bavaria.”
“But Thess! Those poor women!”
“I know, Barb. It’s a bloody, bloody mess.”
That Sir Roland chap didn't seem great in the tactical department. Probably got everyone crucified. Heart in the right place, of course... 
. His ideas as well as his lack of ideas have turned out badly and now he has to face the women's wrath
