Lord Geoffrey's Fancy Read online

  The mountains were very hard on our horses. We could not see why we should risk our lives to protect these nasty people from pirates who were probably more civilised than they.

  In early autumn, before the normal end of the campaigning season, Sir Geoffrey led his mesnie back to Carytena. The official excuse, sent to Prince William, was that the Esclavons were giving trouble, emboldened by the long absence of the natural defenders of the peasantry. In fact Sir Geoffrey cut short the campaign because he feared his sergeants would desert if he kept them much longer on this pointless, plunderless, mountain patrol.

  Since several of the Prince's vassals were going home without permission he saved his dignity by summoning them all to a parliament at Nicies. This is a strong town in the centre of Lamorie, where several roads meet. It is a good place for a business parliament, though the amenities of La Cremonie are lacking. Sir Geoffrey turned aside to attend the parliament, sending on his household knights to Carytena.

  When he caught up with us two days later he was in a very bad temper. News of what had been done at the parliament of Nicies reached us independently, but the version I heard from my lord's own lips puts the position very clearly, I happened to be riding near him, and he was so mad angry that he had to tell it all to someone.

  "You are English, cousin William," he said to me. "You must have heard about what happened to your King John, in the days when our fathers were young. Isn't it true that loyal knights may turn against a lord who shows himself a tyrant?"

  "Perhaps, my lord," I answered cautiously, "though that is not exactly what happened in England. Our Archbishop raised a sedition against the King, but many of the lesser knights remained loyal. My own house of Briwerr was distinguished for its loyalty; my cousin the lord William Briwerr denounced to his dying day that extorted Charter."

  "I seem to have consulted the wrong cousin," my lord answered with a smile. "All the same, you will admit that it is possible for a lord to be a tyrant. Listen to what our Prince has done in this parliament. He has proclaimed publicly, before all the world, that the Megaskyr and the barons of Negripont are rightfully his vassals, and felons because they refuse him homage."

  "That is surely a new claim, my lord? What foundation has the Prince for it?"

  "He says that the Emperor in Constantinople has given him suzerainty over all the Franks in these parts. Though which Emperor, and on what occasion, was not made clear to us."

  "That raises two points. Is it true that an Emperor granted this franchise ? And if he did, was he granting what it was in his power to grant?"

  "Exactly, and both points are doubtful. My uncle probably has a grant from some Emperor. If he hasn't got it now he can buy it tomorrow, and very cheap. Poor Baldwin would be glad of the money. He can't sell any more relics, because the market is glutted. Constantinople can hold out for ever, of course; the strongest walls in the world, manned by Frankish knights and Venetian sailors. But the Empire ends at the suburbs. So Baldwin would sell the homage of Satines and Negripont as readily as he sold Our Lord's Crown of Thorns. Personally I don't think he has the right to dispose of them."

  "Forgive me, my lord, if this sounds stupid, but I am a stranger from England and I really want to know," I answered. "Who in fact holds the homage of Lamorie, and for that matter the homage of Satines? Those fees must have an overlord; that is shown by the titles of their rulers. The Prince of Wales holds of the King of England, the Prince of Orange holds of the Emperor. If he had no overlord Prince William would be styled King. One would expect Satines to have an overlord also, though Megaskyr is a title without parallel in Christendom. There must be an overlord somewhere. A fee without an overlord is against nature."

  "At the time of the conquest there was an overlord, the King of Salonique. The Bulgarians overthrew him, and now Salonique is held by Grifons."

  "But surely the King of Salonique held of the Emperor?" I persisted.

  "Perhaps, but I don't think so. He was the famous Marquis of Montferrat, you know, and he was given his crown as a consolation prize when he did not get the Empire. Probably he had no overlord. So my uncle and my father-in-law are genuinely equal, and my uncle is trying to encroach. I remember my father used to say that all the Villehardouins are crafty quibblers, who know more about the law than an honest knight should. He warned me to watch them, for all that he himself had married one. In my opinion uncle William has been greedy. But if all his barons teil him to pull up he may drop this silly quarrel with de la Roche."

  Sir Geoffrey's rage had dwindled. Nothing is more soothing to the nerves than a detailed discussion of homage and lordship; and I have noticed that though every knight begins by explaining that he is not one of these pettifogging lawyers, every knight prides himself on getting to the heart of a complicated question of homage.

  Sir Geoffrey closed the subject. "What we all ought to do is to choose King Manfred for lord. We have to be friends with the ruler of southern Italy anyway; and since he is the vassal of the Pope for his kingdom of Sicily neither Guelf nor Ghibelline could object."

  In those days the excommunicate King Manfred was the Pope's most deadly foe; so I understood that my lord was joking, though Melisande tells me that I am slow to recognise a joke.

  We rode on to Carytena, stopping at every village to hear an address of welcome from the schismatic priest, in Romanie the usual representative of his parishioners. We had passed the summer in protecting Lamorie from pirates, which these peasants see as the chief duty of their lords. Besides, Sir Geoffrey, born in the country and speaking the language, was genuinely loved by villagers who remembered the oppressive rule of their native lords before the conquest.

  4. WAR IN SATINES

  I found Melisande with another baby, a girl whom she had named Sophie. Such a name is more common among Grifons than among Franks, and if I had been consulted I would have suggested Margaret; but Melisande told me that by the custom of the country daughters are named by the mother, I suppose I was lucky; she might have chosen Eudocia.

  The lady Isabel was still childless; or rather, the son born to her had died on the same day. That is a sorrow many women must face, and most of them get over it; but the lady Isabel took it very hard. She wandered about the castle, white-faced and thin-lipped, telling anyone who would listen that these barren mountains were fatal to Frankish babies, who did well enough, in the milder air of Satines.

  She had another grievance, which she mentioned nearly as often as the unhealthiness of her new home. She was cut off from her family. As yet there was no fighting, but Satines and Lamorie were obviously on the brink of war; no traffic crossed the isthmus. One day in early spring, when she had found me alone in a sunny corner of the bailey, she poured out all her troubles.

  "I love my brothers and sisters. We are a very united family. When I was a child I begged my father not to marry me to some stranger on the other side of the world. One of my sisters is married in Syria, the other in France. I might have been a Countess in peaceful and civilised Italy, where they make lovely jewellery and fine gowns. Instead I persuaded my father to choose me a husband in Romanie, so that I could often come home to see my family. I married Sir Geoffrey, and I love him. But I married him especially because his castle is within a few days' ride of Estives. And what comes of it? I lose my babies because this godforsaken rock is too much for any new-born child; and at Christmas I shall be as solitary as if my kin were a thousand miles away. Don't you think it unfair, Sir William? What ought I to do? Must I endure without complaint?"

  "Not without complaint, madam," I answered. "That is too much to ask of any lady. But are your complaints well founded? Carytena is not always fatal to baby Franks, as you can see from the crowd in my little tower-room. Your third time may be lucky, and indeed the whole barony is praying for an heir for Sir Geoffrey. Your real sorrow is that you are separated from your brothers, and that is not a matter completely beyond your control. As yet we are not at open war with Satines. Can't you persuade my lord to invit
e the de la Roches over here? Or before the campaigning season opens you might cross the isthmus and visit them. In short, don't recite your wrongs, try persuasion. It is the natural weapon of every lady."

  I did not sympathise greatly with her troubles; my own kin were very far away. I spoke in the hope of making life easier for Sir Geoffrey. His unhappy wife was making him unhappy; if she tried to coax him she must put on a smiling face.

  The lady Isabel took my advice; or else she saw of her own accord that she must win over her husband instead of nagging him. She became cheerful and friendly; Sir Geoffrey, who loved her as deeply as she loved him, found his life running smoothly.

  That was a very open autumn; right up to Christmas we could ride out with our hawks, and even in December there were picnics in the open air. With the mesnie on a war footing the castle was crowded. It was nothing like the gay life of Estives, where St. Omers went visiting de la Roches and Italian merchants brought the latest fashions and gossip; but it was much more cheerful than Carytena in a normal winter when the Esclavons are on the prowl and the snow lies deep. But with the New Year the weather changed; by Epiphany 1258 the track down to the bridge was so icy that no horse could face it. We were cooped up in the cold gloom, huddled round the fire in the hall or lying in bed with all our clothes on.

  The news of public affairs was depressing. The castle of Negripont, blockaded by those confounded Venetian galleys, was likely to yield unless relieved in the spring. For fear of pirates the currant fleet had remained in Patras harbour, and all Lamorie was short of money in consequence. On the isthmus there were raids and counter-raids, so that by spring we should be at open war with Satines. The Emperor in Constantinople, hard-pressed by the Grifons, sent urgent appeals all over the west; but no help came, because intending Crusaders found it easier and cheaper to fight for the Pope against the Ghibellines of Italy.

  Those who had at heart the welfare of Frankish Romanie deplored the prospect of war between the only two Frankish states not beset by Grifons; but such people were few, for Franks do not settle in Romanie out of public spirit. Among those who took a narrower view there was a good deal of sympathy with the Megaskyr. Perhaps he owed homage for Satines to the powerless Emperor; but that was not the same as doing homage to an equal and neighbour who might be in a position to give him definite orders. As for Naples and Argues, many great lords owe homage for outlying fees to some other great lord; no one blamed Sir Guy de la Roche for holding his castles against the Prince, any more than our King Edward is blamed for holding Bordeaux against the King of France.

  Sir Geoffrey was worried about his personal position. He took me aside for another discussion. Nowadays, thanks to our famous Charter, any Englishman is regarded as an expert on the ethics of rebellion.

  "Uncle William is not to be trusted, that's the long and the short of it," he began. "I suppose you have heard the old story: how the first Villehardouin, my grandfather, got Lamorie from Champlitte by a trick? The original conquering Champlitte was dead, and the law lays down that an heir coming from France must take possession within a year and a day. Young Champlitte arrived with a few days in hand; but old Sir Geoffrey de Villehardouin kept parliament on the move, a day's ride ahead of him, until time had run out and the fee lacked a lord. Then, of course, the barons chose Geoffrey himself to rule over them. Well, I feel that uncle William is another Geoffrey. Yet I am his man, and I have done homage to him. Must I follow him through thick and thin?"

  "I don't see what else you can do," I answered at once. "Lawyers imagine cases which would justify a breach of homage; but you can see how binding it is, from the extraordinary cases they have to think up. Prince William has not become an infidel, for example? Or set up a new religion of his own? His only troubles with the Church, I believe, are the usual money-squabbles. He isn't even excommunicate, unless he has incurred the ban by friendship with King Manfred. On that point, remember that the barons of Acre chose the Emperor Frederick for Lord, though he was truly an enemy of God and excommunicate in the strongest way. Yet they remain Crusaders, with all Crusading privileges. No one suggests that their vassals ought to desert them."

  "You know too much law, Sir William," he said moodily. "If I wanted legal advice I would consult a learned clerk. What I want to know is how an honourable knight thinks I ought to behave."

  "You know that already, my lord, since you are yourself an honourable knight. The answer is certain. Homage binds more strongly than anything else in the world."

  "All the same, Sir Guy is in the right and uncle William in the wrong. I wish I could see my way."

  "You must find your own way," I said shortly. On such a great matter he ought not to ask the advice of a landless household knight. "You are the sole guardian of your honour. No one else can carry that burden for you."

  "Quite so. At your knighting, did you swear to defend the right?"

  I couldn't answer that one. In silence I shrugged my shoulders.

  Early in Lent the Prince sent a message commanding Sir Geoffrey to bring all his power to Nicies in the week after Easter. Prince William intended to finish the war by a full-scale invasion of Satines. Unless the Megaskyr yielded in face of this threat there must be a decisive battle in the open field.

  As we sat in the hall after supper Sir Geoffrey made a speech to us, a regular rhetorical exercise. Standing on the dais he looked very imposing; the arms of Bruyere glowed on the breast of his white surcoat, his Sword of Justice (for he held high justice in his barony) rested against the banner of Bruyere behind him.

  "Gentlemen, I have searched my heart, and I have decided not to follow the Prince of Lamorie. Consider how this land was conquered. It was not conquered by Villehardouin, nor even by Champlitte; it was conquered by Crusaders, coming of their own free will from every corner of France and the Empire, My barony of Escorta is a barony of the conquest. My father won it by the sword, and I inherit his rights and duties. I hold Escorta from God alone, not from any human lord. I am free to choose. And I choose to lead my followers to help my father-in-law, Sir Guy, in the great battle which will decide the sovereignty of Romanie."

  He paused, as a sigh rose from his audience. Though whether the sigh meant agreement, or disagreement, or merely relief that the question had been settled at last, I cannot say.

  "But you gentlemen took oath to serve a vassal of Prince William," he went on. "You may wish to reconsider your plans. Anyone unwilling to follow me should come up to the dais and diffidate now, in sight of the whole homage of Escorta. No harm will come to him, though of course he loses any land he holds of me, or must hold it by the sword against my power. Is anyone going to diffidate? Don't keep us waiting."

  In the solemn hush no one moved. Sir Geoffrey spoke again, but now there was more levity in his manner.

  "Well, boys, I mustn't rush you. Anyone who is still thinking it over may come to me later this evening. Understand, this isn't a grave question of principle, on which a knight should seek the advice of his confessor. I have chosen my father-in-law because I like him better than my uncle, and to please my wife. If you think the Megaskyr will win, come with me. If you think Prince William the stronger, stick to him. I don't suppose any knight of the mesnie of Bruyere wants to miss the great battle that is coming, so I don't suggest you should stay quietly at home. This is a war to decide who shall rule the Franks of Romanie. I think my uncle was stretching the truth when he claimed the homage of Satines; but I dare say the Megaskyr also exaggerates sometimes. Don't worry over it, seeing it as a conflict between right and wrong. It's a straight struggle for mastery. Back the side you like best."

  That made it easier. Perhaps Sir Geoffrey had seen my frowning face as I tried to choose the more honourable course. Now I left the chattering crowd in the hall and climbed to our snug tower to consult Melisande, who knew more than I did of the confusing politics of Romanie.

  She was nursing Sophie, while for once little Geoffrey slept quietly. She heard my news without excitement.


  "So the lady Isabel has won. I thought she would. Let that be a lesson to you, William. In politics husbands are guided by their wives, and that is true even of the best knight in all Romanie. Poor Isabel, she has been miserable here all summer, with her baby dead and her husband away on campaign. I know the kind of life she came from. You can't expect her to be happy in Carytena, where the sun disappears behind the mountains at midday and the neighbours can't come visiting for fear of savage Esclavons. She wants to get back to her family, even if her lord has to fight his way through an army to get there."

  "The lady Isabel is much to be pitied," I answered. "But her husband proposes to desert his lord. May I follow him, or would that be dishonourable?"

  "Dishonourable? Sir Geoffrey will ride openly, won't he? That is not like changing sides in the middle of a battle, or hiring someone to poison Prince William. A baron of the conquest holds his land by the sword. In a war between Franks he may choose his side; though perhaps it would be dishonourable to help Romans against his own people."

  "But his homage to Prince William?" I persisted.

  "Oh, homage. That's a lot of nonsense, a boy's game played by grown men. Out here no one takes it seriously. Do you remember that Prince William is a burgess of Venice, owning a house in the city? Did that stop him making war on the Venetians in Negripont?"

  "That's important, my dear." I snatched eagerly at the straw. "If Prince William is himself a felon it cannot be felony to desert him. I must follow Sir Geoffrey anyway, since he holds my oath. Now I may follow him with a clear conscience."

  "There's nothing to worry about. We all approve your choice, even little Sophie. See how she smiles, though it may be only wind. Women have a better notion of these things, for we are not blinded by fantastic ideas of honour. Together Sir Geoffrey and the Megaskyr will beat the Prince, and then there will be land to be given in fee. Soon we may be living on our own lordship."