Lord Geoffrey's Fancy Read online

  A servant showed me to a vacant place at one of the lower tables. As I drew my knife to cut off a piece of meat I had the first of many surprises in this strange world of Romanie. A page leaned over my shoulder and placed a metal eating-prong before me.

  In Italy I had heard rumours of this dirty Grifon habit, current in Constantinople because Grifons can't be bothered to wash their hands properly between the courses; but I had not expected to meet it in a decent Frankish court. However, I saw that all my neighbours were using these bone-handled eating-prongs; so I felt mine cautiously to make sure that the points were not sharp enough to damage my mouth and then stuck it into my lump of beef. Then I looked about the hall, to see what other novelties might be waiting for me in this foreign land.

  The surcoat and tunic I had bought in Milan were cut correctly, but the fine woollen cloth seemed clumsy and provincial when so many of my neighbours wore silk. Every man kept his long hair tidy under a white linen coif, tied with strings below the chin; even the youths wore beards, curled and combed as carefully as their hair. The dresses of the ladies were very elaborate, but I shall not attempt to describe them. I saw that my cropped head and shaven chin were definitely wrong; but they could easily be put right.

  Everyone spoke in French or Italian, which was a relief; but Grifon words popped up here and there, and they would break off to speak in Grifon to a servant without any fumbling, showing that they were at home in both languages. I was certainly in a foreign land. I kept my eyes on my food and said nothing, for fear of making some social blunder. My neighbours were not interested in yet another stranger, and in peace I ate very good food and drank very fine wine.

  Presently servants began to remove the tables, and most of the company went off to sleep in their own apartments somewhere in the town; it seems that in Romanie halls are not used for sleeping as in the west. I shared the straw of the stable with my destrier and my servant. In that warm climate it was as comfortable as a bed.

  On the next morning, after a solemn High Mass very badly sung by a scratch collection of clerks (for Romanie gets only the leavings of the Latin church), the parliament of Lamorie tried several cases of disputed inheritance. I kept away, for fear of being expelled with ignominy as a landless stranger. But this was the last day of the Michaelmas parliament, and by dinner-time I was told that the marshal was at liberty and ready for business. In the shade of a church porch I found Sir John de Neuilly, marshal of Lamorie, leaning against a pillar.

  "Ah, Sir William," he said in a friendly voice, "you have come to help defend Romanie from infidels and schismatics. That entitles you to the privilege of a Crusader, you know, if you are in trouble at home. But the steward tells me you have not so far committed any capital crime. We shall be very glad to employ you, as a household knight at the usual daily wage. But I am afraid we can't offer you a fee until we conquer more land from the Grifons, and even then there is a long waiting list."

  "I understand, my lord. I should like a fee of my own, and before I die I hope to get one. But in the meantime service for wages will suit me very well."

  "Have you in mind any particular lord? Prince William pays wages to more than eight hundred knights, and his mesnie is already as big as his wealth will support. It would suit us better if you chose to serve one of his barons, though of course we don't want to lose you. The Prince will employ you rather than see you go home. No, we mustn't lose you, Sir William—er—I forget your family name?"

  "Briwerr, my lord, from the March of Wales beyond the Kingdom of England. Of course my family is French by origin, like most of the knighthood of England."

  "Bri-werr, Briw-err," he muttered, pronouncing it in different ways as he turned it over on his tongue. "A French name all right, a bit altered by barbarous northern speech. That gives me an idea. You would do better in a smaller mesnie than the Prince's and the lord I suggest is certainly worthy to command you. Come with me and meet Sir Geoffrey."

  He bustled me along through narrow streets, shaded by tall houses whose tiled eaves left only a narrow ribbon of sky. In Italy I had met this habit of walking about a town; but it still seemed strange to go on foot with a lord of his distinction. I was careful not to damage my spurs on the cobbles; Sir John wore high soft Grifon boots without spurs.

  We came to an inn, where escutcheons hanging from the windows marked the quarters of noble guests. "One wolf s-head, you see, and on your surcoat are three. But there's nothing strange in that, since you come from another kingdom." One of the painted escutcheons bore a single wolf's-head, in the Briwerr tinctures. "Will you wait below a minute?"

  I heard him inquire for the lord Geoffrey de Bruyere, and understood the scheme in his mind. It seemed to me a good one. This lord of Outremer might or might not be my cousin; if he were, our common ancestor must have lived about two hundred years ago. But a tie of kinship between lord and knight, even imaginary kinship, is stronger than the mere bond of wages.

  Presently Sir John came downstairs with a young lord, very magnificently dressed. But before I had time to take in more than the general effect the young man gathered me up in the formal embrace usually exchanged between equals, and then stepped back with a dazzling smile to take a look at me,

  "Welcome to Romanie, cousin William," he said, grinning. "Will you join my mesnie? There aren't half enough of us Bruyeres in Lamorie, in fact until you arrived I was the only one. I'm very glad to have a new cousin, even though we can't trace our exact degree of kinship." Here he winked, to show that he knew as well as I did tnat the relationship probably existed only in Sir John's ingenious mind.

  "There will be another Bniyere next year, God willing," said the marshal with a smirk.

  "Tut tut, Sir John, I am still an innocent bachelor. He means, cousin, that when this parliament is over I go to Estives to fetch my affianced bride. I want to take a good mesnie to the wedding, naturally, and another genuine western knight will add to my splendour. Now this evening I must attend the Prince's council, so you will have to dine with the general company in hall. Tomorrow you show your horse and arms to my constable, Sir John de Catabas. Only a formality, of course, but old John might take offence if we skipped it. He will fix up your rate of pay and all the other tiresome details, and you can arrange with him whether you serve me for a weekly wage or whether you take oath to be my man until I can find you a fee. It wouldn't be fair to ask you to decide now, in my presence. You may be hating the sight of me, and too polite to say so. Then a couple more days in La Cremonie, giving uncle the benefit of my sage advice. After that we all go back to Carytena to put on our best clothes, and on to Estives for a gay and gorgeous wedding. That's a pleasant prospect, isn't it? Aren't you grateful to the marshal of Lamorie for bringing us together? I am. Now I must see my steward, or I shan't have any money when I bring my bride home." With a wave of the hand and another dazzling smile he hurried off.

  After thanking the marshal I went to look over my mail and horse in readiness for the next day.

  I was eager to serve Sir Geoffrey. I have repeated his words, which I shall never forget; but I cannot describe the charm of his manner. He was about twenty-five years of age, still half a boy but a few years older than myself, as it was right that my leader should be. He was not very tall; but he moved with a graceful swagger, broad shouldered, slim waisted. His golden hair brushed his shoulders, and he sported an absurd little wisp of golden beard, His hands were very clean and well tended (which was common enough in Romanie) and his long silken surcoat fitted him perfectly. His smile was the most delightful I have ever seen; he looked on every stranger as a friend and on the world as a queer but amusing place. From the coif which controlled his curls to the golden spurs which never got in his way as he walked, he was the image of a knight who would have won fame at King Arthur's Round Table.

  I had found a good lord, rich and noble and willing to call me cousin. For the rest of the day I walked on air.

  In the evening I drifted into the Prince's hall, where there w
ould be food and drink for any well-born Frank at any hour until bedtime. A servant recognised me, and explained that Sir Geoffrey had left word that I was to dine among his retainers. That was cheering evidence that my lord looked after his followers, and I was anxious to see my future companions. I was shown to a long table in a corner, where among the household of Bruyere I sat down modestly just above the salt.

  A servant immediately brought me cold mutton and a jug of local wine, which tastes of resin but is otherwise wholesome. Since I was very late for dinner this was generous treatment. Once I knew I would be fed I looked round at my neighbours, who had dined and were passing the time with drink and conversation.

  In my modesty I had taken the last place above the salt. On my right was a gap, and then an elderly Grifon who looked like a huntsman; he was talking busily in his own tongue and I did not care to interrupt him. On my left, I saw with some annoyance, sat a pretty young woman.

  On the wages of a household knight I could not afford to marry; so that social intercourse with ladies of my own class, the tail-end of the gentry, was a waste of time. A great lady might take me as her lover, if I tried hard enough; and my spurs would win me the favours of any servant-girl if I chose to condescend. But with a poor lady it is marriage or nothing; and poor ladies want to marry land, not wages. If I tried to be pleasant to this chance companion I ran the risk of a snub.

  But the young lady herself turned to me, with the easy manners that are more common in Romanie than in the west. "You must be the new Frankishknight," she said with an encouraging smile, "the long-lost cousin who turned up just in time for the wedding. Tell me, how does it feel to find an unexpected cousin? If you are really his cousin, that is. And what do you think of Prince William's hall in La Cremonie? If you find any of our customs strange perhaps I can explain them to you."

  The lady smiled happily. She was about seventeen, with a pleasant expression; though her language was not quite the French of France.

  "I felt honoured that the lord Geoffrey should recognize me as a cousin," I said carefully, determined not to give offence in this strange company. "There is no record of our relationship, but two hundred years ago my ancestors certainly lived in France. Until recently the Briwerrs were great lords in England, though now their barony has been divided among heiresses; and in any case I am a landless younger son from a cadet branch. All the same, it is not impossible that I am kin to the lord Geoffrey, as the marshal of Lamorie suggested before the idea had entered my head."

  I wanted to make it clear that I had not turned up as a poor relation; Sir John de Neuilly had seen the possibility without any prompting from me.

  "I expect you are cousins, then," she said carelessly. "All the poor gentry have cousins among the great. I myself am a cousin of the King of France; though there is a bastardy in the line, naturally. My mother's father was a Branas, son of Theodore Branas and the lady Agnes, daughter of the King of France and widow of the Greek Emperor. Of course he wasn't married to my grandmother. My parents served in the household of the FrankishEmperors, until they came to Lamorie in the train of the other lady Agnes, the daughter of the Frankish Emperor who married Prince Geoffrey. He was the elder brother of our present Prince William. I was born in the great city, though I have lived most of my life in Lamorie. My mother has just found me a place in the household of Bruyere, since our new lady from Satines will need attendants who know the country."

  "Then you are not entirely French, madam?" I said politely, overwhelmed by this cataract of information about descents unknown to me.

  "Well done, sir knight, you didn't ask if I was a Gasmule. That is a rude word. Never use it unless you mean to give offence. No, I suppose I am more Roman than Frank. That's another stumbling block, by the way. Grifon is an insult, and Greek, though clerks use it when they try to be correct, is not much better. The people who lived here before the conquest are the Romans of New Rome. Sir Geoffrey is careful always to call the native gentry Romans; that's one reason why they are so fond of him. I am more of a Roman than anything else, with a little Frankish blood. My name is Melisande Melissena. But my parents lived all their lives among Franks, and I think of myself as a Frank, or a follower of the Franks."

  "Thank you, demoiselle. I am ignorant of the customs of Romanie. There's nothing more annoying than to give offence when you don't mean to, though it's useful to know a few local expressions that are definitely insulting. Now please tell me more about Romanie and Lamorie. Start with my new cousin, Sir Geoffrey. Is he really a very great lord hereabouts?"

  "Indeed he is. Noble blood, strong castles, and a rich fee. He is one of the twelve Barons of the Conquest, the peers of Lamorie. Prince William is himself a Baron of the Conquest. His father took the Principality from the Champlittes, but he was only a baron to start with. A complicated story, too complicated to tell in mixed company. Hugh de Bruyere, the conqueror, married the sister of Prince William, the lady Elizabeth who is the mother of Sir Geoffrey. You may not meet her; she hates Carytena and lives in her dower lands. So Sir Geoffrey is the nephew of his lord, and high in his favour. He is also a gallant knight, the most gallant of all the young Franks born out here. You see, his barony of Escorta is really a border fee, though it's right in the middle of the Principality. The savages in the hills want to raid the lowlands and Sir Geoffrey holds them in check. They say he can get his horse over mountains where even the wild Esclavons must climb with their hands. You couldn't have chosen a better lord. Even the peasants love him."

  "Thank you, madam. And the bride he will marry shortly? Is she worthy of him?"

  "I have never seen her, but she ought to be. Her father is the Megaskyr of Satines. That's a Greek title, meaning Great Lord; because Satines is more than an ordinary lordship. He holds it direct from God, too, with no other overlord. But he is the vassal of Prince William for some castles in the south, whereas Prince William owes homage to no man. Satines is only a village with a strong castle; but with it goes the rich town of Estives, where they weave the best silk in the world. The de la Roches are great lords indeed, as I believe they were great lords in Burgundy. It is an honour for a Bruyere to marry their daughter, but I suppose they are pleased at the alliance with Prince William."

  The lady Melisande chattered eagerly about pedigrees. I wondered cynically how well she really knew these great men and the nuances of their social position. I thought of a test question, which had been told me in Italy.

  "Tell me, demoiselle," I asked innocently, "is the Church here truly at peace, or is there strife between Latins and natives?"

  "That I would hardly know, sir," she answered with a blank face; but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "I hear the Latin Mass only, and never worship in schismatic churches. In general you will find that true of everyone in Romanie who sits, as we do, above the salt." She gazed at the narrow gap between my seat and the great silver salt-cellar. It was a fair point; if she was barely among the gentry I sat even lower.

  "But I'll tell you one thing," she went on with more animation. "The pictures in the native churches, icons they call them, have greater power in Romanie than our Latin statues. If you are in trouble and you want a saint to help you, offer silver to an icon, don't burn candles before a statue. Even the Archbishop of Patras did that when his best hawk flew away; and what's more, the bird came back. This country belongs to the icons. Never be rude to them."

  So the lady was more than a ready retailer of pedigrees. She could take a point in conversation, and throw back the ball. I looked forward to further talks with her when we were both in the Bruyere castle high among the hostile mountains.

  Sir John de Catabas, constable of the barony of Escorta, was a middle-aged knight who moved stiffly and complained of rheumatism. But he knew his business, and made up his mind quickly. We soon agreed on a wage, which seemed to me very generous; but in those days Lamorie was full of gold and silver, and prices were high. On his advice I got rid of my rogue of a servant, who went back to Clarence to
pick up another innocent foreigner. Until we were in the castle of Carytena the Bruyere grooms would look after my horse, and then I could engage a native of the barony. I was content with my employment. In the last two summers I had seen many great households, in Gascony and Italy. There was no lack of money in Sir Geoffrey's mesnie, and a comforting air of efficiency about the military arrangements. My wages would be paid punctually, and in war I would probably be on the winning side. No stipendiary knight can ask for more.

  I liked my comrades also, and in particular the lady Melisande Melissena. Luckily she seemed to like me too, in spite of hot competition from other bachelor knights; for at this parliament there was a shortage of ladies.

  The Princess of Lamorie lay sick in Andreville, and Sir Geoffrey was unmarried, as were several of the other great barons. Among the elderly were numerous widowers, for Franks find Romanie unhealthy, and many ladies die of fever in their first years oversea. So do many lords, of course, but if they held land someone will come from the west to inherit it; a lord who has an heir will not always bother to marry again after his wife dies.

  Before the gathering broke up there was a tournament, as is customary in most countries after a parliament; only in England, I think, is this diversion illegal. I watched, noting that the jousting was of very high standard, as good as one would see in France. But I did not take part. I was in no position to wager horse and mail on a single encounter; besides, like most English knights, I am a poor lance in single combat for lack of early practice. My lord, Sir Geoffrey, rode very skilfully at the ring; but he did not ride in the Round Table because he was known to be the best ouster in Romanie and no one would face him. He refused to ride in the mellay, which was a very tame affair with wooden swords. The Prince forbade anything more exciting, since Lamorie depends on its knights and he did not wish them to be injured. Sir Geoffrey thought such a scrimmage beneath his dignity.