The troubadour's song

by Patricia Werner

  After all the vassals were so sworn, Gaucelm stood up and spoke to them in a solemn and commanding voice. His eyes traveled over each face as if not fooled by their benign expressions.

  "I accept these oaths and promise in my turn to protect each man here and his family and his property. My justice will be dispensed fairly, my interest in your affairs will be great. For if you and your lands profit, so will I and so will my lord, the king of France. Let us drink now to a new unity in France."

  The assembly retrieved their drinking cups from the trestle

  tables, and as Gaucelm raised his jeweled goblet, so did they lift their vessels. They swallowed and then gave a shout.

  The formalities over, Gaucelm set down his goblet and turned to Allesandra, offering her his hand.

  "My lady, let the entertainments begin."

  She stood up stiffly, and stepped down from the dais. The vassals sought out their friends, letting servants move the benches from around the wall. Gaucelm led Allesandra to the side, out of the way of tablecloths being spread and trenchers being laid.

  "All has gone well so far, my lady," he said, glancing around at his new household. "I look forward to the more amusing aspects of this evening's fete. And I am most eager to see this court of courtesy you have described."

  Allesandra forced a smile onto her granitelike face. "I hope it pleases my lord."

  His eyes slid to the men who had just sworn their oaths to him, now joined by wives, sisters, mothers who had also been invited.

  "There are many modest young women here, it appears," he said. "Blooming youth to tempt soldiers who have been away from their homes for long and men who have been cooped up in the tower."

  "Do not worry, my lord. The court of courtesy is one of manners and genteel behavior."

  A gong was sounded for the evening supper. Allesandra and Gaucelm took their places at the high table while festive platters of roast pig and lamb were brought in. They turned their attention to the fine meal as the company before them began hushed conversation. The kitchen staff had done their very best with fine sauces, expensive spices, the best cuts of meat from a recent slaughter. The bread was hot and moist, the feast delectable to the palate and filling to the stomach. And Allesandra could read the pleasure in Gaucelm's countenance whenever she glanced his way.

  He leaned his head toward her during the second course.

  "You have a fine cuisine here in the South, one I look forward

  to acquainting myself with. It seems each day the cooks think of new things."

  "I am glad you enjoy the food, my lord."

  "No less than the wine and the other comforts of these fair lands."

  He sipped from his glass and gave her a look of pleasure, a look that made her pulse race. She was careful to sip her wine slowly.

  After the meal, the tables were folded down and removed, the benches moved back to leave room for the musicians.

  Julian approached and informed Allesandra that Lucius Hersend and Jean de Batute had just arrived, escorted by the French soldiers from the borders.

  At the mention of the names of two of her best friends who were also among her favorite troubadours, a smile warmed her cool countenance. Welcome came to her lips, and she turned expectantly to look for her friends to enter when she caught Gau-celm's gaze. His eyes flickered. One eyebrow seemed to lift in curiosity, and as he followed her gaze to the entrance to the hall, she imagined that his look became even more intent.

  She dared to think that her pleasant anticipation of the arrival of two of the featured guests caused Gaucelm a qualm of consternation. And then her smile widened, relief flooded an otherwise troubled heart. She left Gaucelm behind and moved forward through the gathering to greet the two troubadours.

  "Lucius! Jean!" she cried just as they entered and looked around the festive hall.

  Then they saw their hostess and came forward to take her outstretched hands.

  Lucius Hersend was a broad-shouldered ruddy knight with curly hair of reddish gold. His blue eyes, which had been guarded and wary when he'd first come into the room, now danced with merriment, his face open to all that was about him. He went down gracefully on one knee, his lute still strapped to his back. As he spoke, he glanced from Allesandra to the right and left, as if trying to assess the circumstances.

  "My lady, my heart has been dead these many months in my absence from this place, but now it beats again. My eyes can see again, now that your beauty shines upon them."

  "Enough, Lucius," said Jean, grasping his friend's hand and pulling him back to his feet. "My lady, do not believe these false words of his. I myself heard him praise another lady just as highly only because she offered him a banquet and a rich mantle."

  Allesandra laughed in delight at the hyperbole so common to troubadour praise and poetry. She'd been so long buried with war and heavy concerns that just to see these two sprites from more peaceful days did her poor heart good.

  In contrast to Lucius's flaming hair, blue eyes, and fair coloring, Jean was slight, tan, with plain features and dark hair clipped long over his brow and short about the ears and back of his neck. He spread his arms wide, his open, fun-loving face full of mock sadness.

  "It is I who have suffered. While Lucius secluded himself in a tower to write love poetry to his newest patroness, I was tending my old mother in the village, for she is ready to leave us for heaven. While Lucius feasted at his lady's table, I was living on stale bread and water because the armies ate up all the food in our demesne. While Lucius laid his head on tapestried pillows, I slept in a tent, for I did my forty days' service to my overlord just before I received your summons."

  "Never mind," said Allesandra, still amused. "You are both welcome. And since the contest is not until tomorrow, you need not vie to bestow the greatest compliments."

  Jean dropped his doleful pose and leaned his head closer to Allesandra. He flicked his eyes about them and spoke in a low, cautious tone.

  "I was afraid this was a trick. I thought it suicide to ride into an enemy-held castle. But then I thought perhaps you needed rescue."

  Lucius, too, became serious and closed their circle.

  "Indeed, this is a dangerous undertaking, is it not? Can it be

  true that your new overlord requests the diversion of a court of courtesy? I think he serves the stern Simon de Montfort."

  "So he does," whispered Allesandra. "And he is very clever. His mission is to find heretics."

  "Hmmm," said Lucius. "I begin to see the picture. We must play our songs and act gay. For as you say, what do we know of any heretics?"

  He opened his eyes wide and shrugged, palms up. Allesandra felt secure that these two would know how to behave.

  "Good," she said. "Now let me introduce you to the man to whom I was forced to surrender this castle."

  Jean paused before following her, forcing her to turn back toward him.

  "Surely you do not intend to let him keep it, my lady?"

  She gave a lift of a brow. "You are right. I do not intend to let him keep it for long."

  Then she turned, finding that Gaucelm watched them from near the dais where he spoke to his sergeant-at-arms, Enselm, a man of undoubted loyalty and one who would be suspicious of her every move. She could see in the way the sergeant moved his gaze about the crowd that he would watch for any danger to his master and warn him of any treachery.

  The jongleurs began to arrange their instruments in the musicians' gallery above the doors. By the time she reached Gaucelm, Allesandra's face again wore a demure expression.

  "My lord, may I present these two most excellent troubadours. Lucius Hersend is known far and wide for his pastorelas, our dawn songs, as well as for his love songs."

  Lucius gave a quick doubtful look, but he flourished a hand and gave a deep bow. "My lord, I am honored."

  "Welcome, Lucius Hersend," said Gaucelm, assessing the other man. "I am much interested to hear these songs of which Lady Valtin speaks so highly."

 
"And Jean de Batute," Allesandra continued. "Jean's sir-ventes, which are very satiric, are the most amusing in the land. I hope you will appreciate them."

  Jean's face held a slight expression of arrogance, but he bowed in deep humility until his host addressed him.

  "Welcome to you as well, Jean de Batute. I am not so fluent in your language that I am sure to understand your humor, but one can always learn."

  "I will strive to entertain as well as to enlighten, in that case," replied Jean.

  "My lord," said Allesandra when the introductions were over, "the company is assembled. We will begin at your pleasure."

  Gaucelm noted the pink flush to her cheek but could not tell if it was because of her delight at having her friends near her or whether she was anxious that her court of love might please him. He preferred to think she cared enough to impress him, but already felt twinges of jealousy and wondered if he had made a mistake in appearing so lenient as to invite these troubadours.

  Gaucelm stepped onto the dais and raised a hand until the crowd quieted.

  "You are all welcome," said Gaucelm. "Since a court of courtesy is presided over by the highest ranking lady present, I humbly turn over this court to my lady Allesandra Valtin." He paused to look upward at the expectant musicians in their gallery. Then, taking his time to survey the mixed gathering in the hall, he commanded, "Let the entertainment begin."

  Trumpets blared, and ladies took their seats on the benches while Allesandra mounted the dais. A surge of the old joy crept into her veins, though not without the tempered caution that had come from a time of war.

  "Welcome all," she said. Tears came to her eyes to see a gathering again so colorful and gay in this hall, as it was meant to be.

  "A song, please." It took another moment before she could speak without trembling. "Who here has composed something new for my lord's pleasure?"

  Lucius stepped forward. "I have, my lady, if I may offer so humble a piece."

  A stool was brought for him to place his foot while he

  strummed the lute. The crowd grew quiet. Behind him from the gallery, the jongleurs strummed accompaniment, for the musicians knew which piece Lucius would sing first.

  The song of spring and new love gradually brought smiles to the cautious gathering. Allesandra glanced at Gaucelm only once, but could not read his expression. He lounged in the carved-back chair with fingertips together beneath his chin. When Lucius finished to polite applause, Jean stepped forward to claim the center of attention. He had changed from traveling clothes into a knee-length white tunic belted over midnight-blue hose. He surveyed the people and waited until the applause died.

  "My lady," he finally said and gave a bow. "I am in great need of advice from one knowledgeable in the rules of love, for I am abused."

  The court murmured, and Allesandra smiled, for this was the way a court of love was conducted. The Provencals present all knew the thirty-one Laws of Love. These laws were accepted by common consent of all the courts of courtesy, and all decisions were based on them.

  "What is your predicament?" She descended the steps to place herself on the same level as the others.

  Jean turned to include the audience in his tale of woe and gestured expansively as was his way when he expressed himself.

  "My lady-love had accorded me the last favors in her power. But I requested her permission to bestow my homage on another lady. She granted my request."

  He paused a little and crossed the floor. "But after a month I returned to my old love and declared that I had never besought any indulgences or desired any favors of affection from the new lady whom I had courted."

  The audience whispered and hummed at this turn of events, but quieted to listen to what else the troubadour had to say.

  One hand on hip, the other lifted to his side, he exclaimed, "My sole thought was to put to the proof the constancy of my best beloved and first-loved friend."

  "And how did your first love receive you?" queried Allesan-dra.

  Jean placed a hand on his chest as if feeling the pain in his heart.

  "On my coming to her with this tale, she deprived me of her love, declaring that I had rendered myself unworthy of it by the mere act of soliciting and accepting permission to leave her."

  Now the crowd chattered among themselves, for the case was a knotty one. Allesandra walked among the court.

  "Let us now debate this issue. Ladies, what say you?"

  A woman of fair countenance and russet hair, a friend Allesandra knew from a neighboring castle, stood up. "My lady, I have an opinion on this case. For it so happens that I am the second lady in question."

  Mirthful chuckles came from those entertained at this. Jean turned to the redhead and flourished a bow, getting down on one knee to listen to her testimony.

  The young woman came forward and spoke to Allesandra in arched tones.

  "The troubadour Jean de Batute, who pleads the misuse of his mistress, misused me as well with his ruse. He came to me promising to demonstrate his love. But after that first meeting, he did nothing. He never came to see me again. After a month, I heard he had gone back to his former mistress."

  Other witnesses spoke, vouching for this lady's testimony. One by one others gave their views, in declamatory tones. Some sided with Jean, others sided with the lady who rejected his love. After due deliberation, Allesandra mounted the dais again and gave her verdict.

  "I render the lady who rejected the returning lover to be guilty," she said.

  Jean spread his arms, palms up, and bowed.

  Allesandra continued with her indictment. Her eyes slid sideways to Gaucelm, then back again to her court. "Such is the nature of love. Frequently lovers pretend that they desire the affection of someone to whom they are not attached. This, in

  order to assure themselves of the constancy and devotion of their beloved. It is an offense against the rights of lovers to refuse any tenderness or favor to the lover who desires it again, unless that lover can clearly be proven to have broken faith or proved disloyal in his duties."

  The court erupted in good-natured congratulations to the pleader, who picked up his lute and began to strum. Viols and harps joined in from the gallery. Allesandra recognized the melody and threw an embarrassed glance toward Gaucelm, who lounged in his great chair, one finger stroking his chin as he watched the proceedings.

  Jean began the first lines of a tenso —a discussion in poetry of the various points of courtly behavior—he had exchanged with Allesandra last year. He began his stanza. She would have to reply with hers.

  "My lady is a bel cavalier," he gaily sang. "I had returned from the chase and paid her a chaste visit and accidentally left my sword in her apartment. When I returned to fetch it, I saw my lady without her seeing me. She had divested herself of all but her smock, and had buckled on the sword by a baldric across her chest."

  To the amusement of the court, Allesandra was now forced to sing her stanza. "No doubt the lady you saw felt freedom in such habiliment, and delighting at the sight of the weapon, donned it to resemble a man."

  "She drew sword from scabbard," sang Jean, pantomiming the actions for the audience, "and tossed it into the air. She caught it again and wheeled it glittering from side to side. I gazed in amazement through a crevice in the door. Vouchsafe, madam, to give me your advice. I love a lady of superlative charms. Tell me, ought I die of love without revealing my feelings to her?"

  "Declare your love," sang Allesandra, "and request that she retain you as her lover and her troubadour. You yourself are noble and will honor her with your declaration. There is no one who would not receive you as her knight."

  The tambourine and stringed instruments crescendoed to the climax as Jean spread his arms wide and sang from his heart. "You are my lady, madam."

  "Then, Jean de Batute," she replied in the song. "You are my knight."

  The court applauded and laughter filled the hall as the tambourines crashed three final beats. Flushed with the stylized performance,
Allesandra returned to the dais. Her pulse fluttered with all the excitement, and when she stole a glance at Gaucelm, she saw his disapproving stare. She managed to turn and take her seat while the revelers formed a circle for a dance. When the din covered their conversation, Allesandra summoned the courage to ask after Gaucelm's pleasure.

  "Most revealing," he answered somewhat sharply. "To exaggerate the importance of love beyond all limits. According to this poetry, love seems to the lover to be more rewarding than heaven."

  She smiled at his understanding of what their poetry was all about.

  "It is that, my lord, according to these dictates. Because of being in love with his perfect lady, a knight attains both skill and honor, becomes valiant and brave." She spoke with some feeling.

  "I see. Then it is doubtful whether a knight without a lady-love can ever attain such heights of honor, since the lady is his source of inspiration."

  "That is true, my lord."

  "Ah, then, whether or not the lady reciprocates, the knight's worship produces a state of ecstasy."

  "You have understood well, my lord." She caught her breath, waiting for the beating of her heart to slow down.

  He had leaned closer as they exchanged these words, causing Allesandra to tremble with the buddings of desire that his nearness did not fail to awaken in her. Indeed, his hand rested on the arm of her chair, and his face was very close to hers as his dark eyes shone into her soul.

  "I would be careful of those words, my lady," he said with a note of warning in his sensual voice. "There are those who would perceive this ceremonious worship of a woman of the flesh to be misplaced. Some might call it heresy."

  Nine

  Allesandra stared at the face hovering near hers and pressed a hand against her damp brow. But Gaucelm continued to speak in a tone meant only for her ears.