Terence had enough French to understand most of this, but he leaned toward Dinadan and asked, "He's going to sing about the knight of the what? What's a charrette?"
"Cart," replied Dinadan.
Kyot got no further for a moment. The Emperor Karl snorted with disgust and called out a surly question to a courtier. ("He wants to know what ass invited a minstrel who doesn't speak either German or Greek," Dinadan translated.) Alis clapped his hands politely, then reached up and took Fenice's hand in his. Fenice looked at it with patent distaste, then smiled across the regent to Cligés. Cligés cleared his throat and spoke in French. "M'sieu le chanteur, " he stammered. "La . .. la fille qui a mariée aujourd'hui ... ne comprends ... ne te comprends pas. Parle-toi Anglais?"
"But yes," Kyot replied. "I can sing in the English as well. It is well, because the song I sing is a song of King Arthur, the Prince of Chivalry, and of the greatest of all his chevaliers, the French Lancelot du Lac."
"The knight of the cart?" Terence repeated slowly.
"He speaks English," Dinadan said. "I didn't know that. But what good will that do? No one here understands English, either."
"Except for Cligés and Fenice," Terence said.
"It is a song of the deepest love that man may know for a woman," Kyot said, "for as a man is greater than other men, so is his love greater than the love of others. And there is no love so great as the eternal love of Lancelot for his heart and life—Queen Guinevere!"
Terence culled his memory of Gawain's vocabulary and uttered a few choice words.
"This is what I meant by appalling rot," Dinadan whispered. "It's that 'courtly love' rubbish I told you about, which says that pure love can only be found outside of marriage."
For more than an hour, Kyot sang and played and told the story of how Queen Guinevere had been captured by the evil knight Sir Meliagant, then rescued by Sir Lancelot. Having been a part of that rescue himself, along with Gawain, Terence was able to recognize the occasional accurate detail, but for the most part was horrified by the way Kyot twisted the story to his own ends. Gawain, who had nearly died from the wounds he received on that quest, was accorded only a cursory mention, while Sarah—who Terence believed was the true hero of the rescue—did not appear in the tale at all. But worst of all was the minstrel's casual glorification of Lancelot's supposed adulterous affair with the queen, even though Lancelot and Guinevere's brief romance had ended years before. The Emperor Karl, along with most of the company, had given up on the story, which was no more comprehensible to them in English than it would have been in French. Most were devoting themselves to their meals and chatting among themselves. But Cligés and Fenice sat enraptured, listening to every word. Terence found himself wishing for some interruption to put an end to the story.
Terence got his wish. As Kyot was describing a tournament in which Lancelot was permitting every knight to unhorse him so as to prove his love to Guinevere—it was a bit muddled here—the doors of the banquet hall burst open and a tall knight with a graying beard stalked into the room, followed by a company of knights in German armor. Gray Beard shoved Kyot roughly out of his way, sending him sprawling.
"Bravo! Do it again!" murmured Dinadan.
Gray Beard began to speak, in a ringing voice, and the emperor rose haughtily to his feet and replied. For several seconds, they snapped at each other, then lapsed into a tense, glaring silence. Terence looked inquiringly at Dinadan.
"Oh, dear," Dinadan said. "This is awkward."
"Who is that fellow?" Terence whispered.
"That seems to be the Duke of Saxony, quite the big deal in the empire."
Terence had heard that name before but couldn't recall where.
"He wants to know why he wasn't invited to Fenice's wedding," Dinadan explained.
Then Terence remembered. It was something that he had heard Fenice say while she was at Camelot—the reason she was leaving England, in fact. "Because Fenice was already betrothed to him, right?" Terence said.
"That's it," Dinadan agreed. "As I say—awkward."
The Holy Roman Emperor, the most powerful king of the West, was effectively a prisoner in his own castle, held there by the besieging forces of his vassal, the Duke of Saxony. After the brief exchange of words in the banquet hall, the duke had turned and left the court. All had sighed with relief—except, of course, the Greeks, who had no idea what had just taken place—but their relief was short-lived. The duke had spent many weeks preparing for this confrontation, and the court soon discovered that his armies were camped around Mainz, barring every road and blocking all from entering or leaving.
Terence had no trouble piecing together the rest of the story over the course of the next day. The Emperor Karl had arranged for his niece, Fenice, to marry the Duke of Saxony, a very useful internal alliance, but when the offer from Alis had arrived, he had quickly jettisoned this plan in favor of a grandiose dream of joining two empires. He had sent a hasty message to Saxony, saying that he had decided Fenice was too young to marry, then ignored all the duke's ensuing letters. But the duke had heard, of course, about the imperial marriage and had laid very careful plans in response. What exactly the duke hoped to gain, Terence wasn't sure, but for the time being Saxony held the upper hand.
Karl's knights prepared for war, but the emperor decided to try diplomacy first. He and a company of his best knights rode out, taking Fenice with them. Terence watched the parlay from the castle wall, accompanied by Dinadan and Acoriondes.
"Why is he taking Fenice?" Terence asked Dinadan. "Do you know?"
"He says he wants to show the duke her wedding ring," Dinadan replied. "Though what difference he thinks that'll make is beyond me."
"And he thinks the duke will look at a ring, then just apologize and take off?" Terence asked mildly. "I didn't think Karl was such a fool."
"He is not," Acoriondes said calmly.
As they watched, Fenice extended her hand, but the duke didn't even look at it. Instead he raised his arm in a signal. Perhaps two dozen archers rolled from hiding places and began shooting toward the emperor's knights. The knights quickly formed a circle around the emperor, shielding him from harm as they retreated into the protection of the castle. The archers arrows sailed harmlessly over the knights heads as they brought the emperor back unharmed.
"If that's the best that German archers can do—" Terence began scornfully, but he never finished his sentence. From farther down the battlements Cligés's voice rose in a long, despairing cry, followed by a single word: "Fenice!" In their haste to save their liege, the emperor's knights had neglected one other detail. Fenice was still in the duke's hands.
"Is it my imagination," Dinadan mused aloud, "or is this Duke of Saxony rather more clever than our friend the Holy Roman Emperor?"
"So it would seem," Acoriondes said thoughtfully. "Whatever he wants, he is playing his hand very skillfully. Now Karl has no choice but to fight. Is this Duke of Saxony so powerful that he could defeat his own emperor?"
They were soon to find out. The Emperor Karl's men now prepared for battle in earnest, scheduling a sortie for the very next day. Alis, who had none of his nephew Alexander's zeal for battle, made a halfhearted offer to lead the Greek knights out at Karl's side, but his offer was firmly declined. "Karl doesn't want to risk Alis being killed," Acoriondes said. "If that happened all this would be for nothing."
"He probably would be, too," Dinadan commented. "Killed, I mean. Have you ever seen such a mooncalf?"
Dinadan was right: Alis was behaving like a lovesick child, moping about and breaking into tears every minute or two. Acoriondes frowned. "Indeed, my lord Dinadan. I cannot account for it. The regent truly seems to have fallen in love with the child Fenice. He told me—but this is ridiculous—that she is just like his deceased wife."
Terence and Dinadan exchanged glances. Was this Alis's "good dream"? That he had married the image of his former love?
The next day dawned, and Terence, who always rose with the sun, watched
from the wall as the Emperor Karl's army mustered in the castle courts. Beyond the walls, the gray light showed activity in Duke of Saxony's camp as well. He wondered how many men would die this day over an irritating fifteen-year-old girl, and he was glad he was out of it. "Terence!" came an urgent whisper.
Terence turned. "Yes?"
It was Acoriondes, hurrying up the stairs. "Cligés isn't in his room," Acoriondes panted. "And a half-dozen of our Greek knights are missing as well."
Terence and the Greek looked at each other for a long moment. "Oh," said Terence.
Wearing hastily donned armor, Acoriondes led Terence and Dinadan around the edge of the battlefield. They were trying to stay out of the fighting itself, but had to remain close enough to see the battle. "What color is Cligés's armor?" Terence asked.
"Today? Who knows?" Acoriondes replied bitterly. "The silly gudgeon travels with several suits of armor, in different styles and colors. It's his hobby."
Terence grinned. Acoriondes's English was becoming more colloquial every day. Few foreigners would have known that in England, gudgeon—actually a type of minnow—could also be used to describe a fool.
"What's the Greek word for gudgeon?" asked Dinadan curiously.
"Moron, " replied Acoriondes shortly.
"That's Greek?" Dinadan exclaimed with delight. "But I've been using that word for years! I can speak Greek! Cligés is a moron!"
"Most excellently spoken, Sir Dinadan," said Acoriondes.
The battle, for the most part, was contained in a low area that lay before the castle of Mainz, flanked by the Rhine River and surrounded by low hills. They circled the battleground on the summit of these hills, scanning the scene below them for any sign of Cligés or the other Greek knights.
"And what do we do when we find the moron?" asked Dinadan.
"Try to keep him alive," replied Acoriondes. "Whatever else he is, he is my master, heir to the throne of the empire."
"He won't be in the thick of the fighting, you know," Dinadan commented. Terence and Acoriondes glanced back at him inquiringly, and Dinadan explained. "He's not out here to fight the duke. He's trying to rescue the damsel, like Sir Lancelot."
Terence and Acoriondes both nodded. "Of course," Acoriondes said. "So, if we can find Fenice, we'll find Cligés. Let us move farther back from the fighting."
"That'd be my preference anyway," Dinadan said.
An hour later, they found her. Rounding a craggy ridge, they came upon a small encampment, where six or seven knights stood guard outside a tent. One of those knights, seeing them, stepped forward, drew his sword, and shouted at them in German.
Dinadan stepped in front of Terence and Acoriondes and replied calmly. For several minutes, Dinadan and the knight talked, and at the end of that time, the German replaced his sword and removed his helm, revealing a handsome, youthful face framed with long flaxen hair. He smiled at Terence and Acoriondes.
"This is Captain Boniface," Dinadan said. "He's in charge of the detail. He also writes poetry."
Acoriondes blinked. "He writes poetry?"
"Short lyrics, mostly."
"But is that important?"
Dinadan raised one eyebrow. "To my mind, it's probably the only thing in this whole bleeding fiasco that is."
Terence interposed a gentle question: "And is Fenice in that tent?"
"Oh, yes. But he's seen no sign of Cligés or the others. I asked him if he'd like to let us take her back and put an end to this silly war, and he said he'd love to."
"Really?" asked Terence.
"But he can't," Dinadan said. "The duke's orders were to keep her here, and Boniface took an oath. You understand."
Terence nodded. He wasn't sure that obeying a foolish order was always the right thing to do, but in a world where nothing else made sense, the only thing that one could control was one's own honor. "Is Fenice all right?"
Dinadan blinked. "I didn't ask. Hang on." He directed a question at Boniface, then translated the captain's reply. "She's fine, barring a bit of weepiness. Nothing to worry about."
Now Boniface asked Dinadan something.
"Boniface wants to know if you really are Sir Gawain's squire. I told him you were when I was convincing him that he shouldn't attack us. And if you are, he wants to know if it's true that Gawain once killed a giant and became king of the Isle of Man."
"Not to my knowledge," Terence replied. "And I'd think it would be the sort of thing that would be hard to keep hidden."
Dinadan relayed this response, then listened to Boniface for a couple of minutes. "Pity," he said at last. "It sounds like a spanking good tale. You're sure Gawain didn't slip out and do it sometime when you weren't watching?"
"Look here," Acoriondes said, interrupting this exchange. "Can't we come up with some solution that will free Fenice, stop this fighting, keep Cligés from harm, and preserve the captain's honor?"
"Is that all?" asked Dinadan. "Almost seems too simple to bother with, don't you think?"
"Many problems are less difficult than they appear," Acoriondes replied. "Could you ask the captain what his master really wants? Surely he did not go to war for the sake of this silly Fenice."
"I'll ask him," replied Dinadan.
He spoke to Boniface, who snorted and rolled his eyes at the tent behind him. "Für die Schwachsinneger? Nein!"
"He says, 'For the Schwachsinneger?No!' "
Terence grinned. "I take it that Schwachsinneger means—"
"Gudgeon," Dinadan explained, nodding. "Moron, if you will."
"Then why?" pursued Acoriondes.
Dinadan asked Boniface. A minute later he explained, "Boniface isn't sure. He suspects that it's all about some disputed lands, though. There are some regions that the emperor and the duke both claim, and the duke is using the emperor's broken promise to seize an advantage in the dispute."
Terence wasn't sure what capturing Fenice had to do with a land dispute, but the Greek nodded at once. "Yes, that makes perfect sense. This battle is simply a prelude to a treaty that has already been worked out."
Dinadan shook his head. "If they've already worked it out, why do they have to fight first?"
"To keep up the illusion," Acoriondes explained. "They pretend that they care about honor, not merely land, and so they must fight. It is for appearances."
"For appearances," Dinadan repeated. "Now, there's a lovely thing to die for."
Dinadan got no further. At that moment, from a crevice in the jagged and broken rock wall behind the tent, came an attack. Terence saw seven knights on horseback, already riding down the German guards who stood before the tent. He had just enough time to see that they wore Greek armor before he was roughly pushed to one side by Acoriondes, who had drawn his own sword and placed himself between the attack and his English friends. Terence quickly strung his bow and fitted an arrow to the string but then hesitated. Who was he to shoot? The German guards obeying their orders or the Greek knights trying to rescue Fenice from abductors? Captain Boniface drew his sword and raced back to help his men, where he was faced by a knight in shining golden armor. They engaged each other briefly, but the golden knight fought furiously and brilliantly—and had the advantage of being mounted—and within seconds the German captain had fallen. A moment later, the clearing was still. Two Greeks and all the German guards lay sprawled before the tent. The golden knight drew off his helm, revealing himself as Cligés, then leaped from his horse. Tearing open the tent, he strode inside.
For a moment there was silence, then Cligés reappeared, Fenice in his arms. "I have come for you, my lady!" he cried.
"My Lancelot! I have been you expecting!"
Cligés threw Fenice onto his saddle then climbed up behind her while the other Greeks gathered the bodies of their fallen companions. Then Cligés waved cheerfully to Acoriondes, called out something to him in Greek, and led his men away.
"He thanks us," Acoriondes said woodenly. "He had been in the rocks, watching for their chance, and when he saw us distrac
t the captain, he knew the time had come."
Terence closed his eyes wearily. Dinadan walked slowly forward, then knelt beside Captain Boniface. The young knight lay on his side, his fair hair covering his face. Dinadan rolled him onto his back and smoothed away the long hair, revealing open and sightless eyes.
Dinadan's shoulders hunched, as if he had been struck on the back, then began to shake. "For appearances," he whispered brokenly between sobs.
The Tournament of Peace
The battle ended inconclusively that day. Those of the duke's men who had survived the fighting returned to their siege camp, while those left of the emperor's knights went back within the castle walls. But just as the gates were about to close, Cligés and his men rode over a hill, silhouetted by the setting sun, triumphantly bearing their prize—the rescued Fenice. Cligés had obviously timed his arrival for dramatic effect: Terence, Dinadan, and Acoriondes had been on foot and had still arrived back at Mainz hours before Cligés and his men.
The effect was all Cligés could have asked for. The knights of Mainz cheered enthusiastically at Fenice's rescue and acclaimed her deliverer as a hero. Only Emperor Karl and one or two of his advisors seemed unimpressed. Indeed, Karl seemed almost angry. Terence commented on this to Acoriondes, who looked surprised. "Of course he is angry," he said. "All his plans have been overset."
"He's not pleased that his niece has been rescued from abductors?"
Acoriondes shook his head slowly. "You poor innocent," he said at last. "Have you no experience with diplomatic negotiations?"
"Not enough, I gather," Terence replied. "Why don't you explain to me why Karl should be disappointed at his niece s rescue."
"Rescue? She was never in danger."
"Never in ... then why...?"
"Didn't you hear what young Captain Boniface said? This is not about Princess Fenice, but about some disputed territory."
"Yes, of course. But—"
"Look, sometime during the night, two nights ago, just after the duke had laid down his challenge, the duke and the emperor sent emissaries back and forth and made a deal. The duke would resign all claim to the hand of Fenice, and in return, the emperor would give him rights over that plot of land he wants."