Knight Assassin

by James Boschert

  The others laughed at her but although they mocked her, Talon sensed that they were not sure of themselves.

  “There are no dragons left in Langue d’Oc, Galiana,” Andreu said scornfully.

  “How do you know, brother?” Elena asked, taking Galiana’s side with an impish grin.

  Lady Galiana asked Talon directly, “Well, I shall ask Sir Talon. Do they have dragons in Persia, Sir Talon?”

  He smiled. “I was told that in the past there were many dragons and demons in the lands of Persia, but a great hero called Rostam slew most of them so I can't tell if there are any still there today, my lady.”

  They plied him with questions about his story and how he had managed to escape. He was deliberately vague about how he had been treated by the Templars. The knights were not to be accused in this company, he surmised.

  It was well into the evening and the bells of the city were ringing evening Mass when he had finished. He had glossed over much but the main story was there. There was a long silence when he stopped.

  Roger and the other young men were looking at him with new respect; everyone seemed to be reassessing him. Each was thinking his own thoughts.

  Finally Roger said, “You have led a life that none of us could have imagined. I am glad to know you. It is now our turn to entertain you, and so we shall.” He looked around. “This evening there is to be a feast in honor of a dignitary from England. My father will have him seated at the high table with your uncle, Talon. He will want to hear all about life in the Outré Mere; news is hard to come by. We will be seated along the side of the high table and we shall have troubadours and jugglers, dancers and singers.”

  “With perhaps even contortionists and acrobats,” Donate added.

  “You only like to watch them because they are mostly girls and often naked, Donateie,” one the girls teased. Donate had the grace to blush while the others teased him.

  Talk came round to the news that there would be a famous troubadour at the feast that night.

  “He shall sing the ballads of Aquitaine and of the arts of love,” Lady Galiana told them, “Perhaps even of Tristan and Isolde.”

  The young men smirked with derision. “You ladies are always mooning over the latest songs from these people. What of the art of war?” Lord Andreu asked.

  “Our Queen Eleanor said that a knight was not meant to be merely a man of war, but able to woo a lady with fine knowledge of the art of love as well,” Lady Sybille said defensively.

  “I am sure that Talon is well familiar with the art of love as well as war,” Elena said archly, her eyes directly on him.

  Talon gazed back at her solemnly. He paused as though thinking carefully, but he had already decided to enjoy himself and to enter into the spirit of the exchange. “That depends, M’Lady. I am no troubadour, so I would be a willing student of one who knew all there was to the art of love.” he said innocently, looking directly at her.

  The others laughed outright at this and it was Elena’s turn to be teased. She tossed her head and laughed with them, her eyes still on Talon, a slight blush on her cheeks. He smiled at her with his eyes and her blush deepened.

  “It is clear that Talon is not to be tested in that arena,” Roger said, his eyes assessing the situation.

  Talon was struck by the gay innocence of the young people around him. He felt sure that the young men at least were probably good with weaponry, it being a prerequisite for young lords of the time. All the same he felt a lot older than the group he was with and somehow detached. He noticed that Roger had disappeared but that the others were still walking slowly in the direction of the feast hall. Elena had him firmly anchored by her side, her arm linked in his.

  He again felt acutely conscious of his distinct lack of finery and hung back; but Elena pushed him on, seemingly quite unconscious of his deficiency and determined to have him with her.

  The bells tolled again and it was Vespers; time for the feast to commence. Elena told him that the young people were expected to be present in the hall before the Count came to the table, so they walked quickly along the passages together with other hurrying people heading toward the Great hall where the feasting would take place.

  Roger had warned Talon that there would be much pomp and ceremony. The arrival of an ambassador from Henry of England was an unusual event and meant that something was afoot. Talon was discovering that he was woefully unaware of the events generated by the two kings of England and France as well as the alliances that were being sought with men like the Count of Toulouse, Carcassonne, and Burgundy to the east.

  Sybille, who like others of her noble class, could recite from memory the names and titles of most of the gentry in the Languedoc, Aquitaine, and beyond, briefly explained the convoluted state of affairs in the land as it was then.

  “The Count, a very powerful noble in his own right, still owes fealty to the king of France, as does King Henry II, himself.” She arched her eyebrows at him.

  To Talon it was as confusing as the interaction of the Sultans and princes in Persia. He was further puzzled to learn that the king of France probably had much less land belonging to him than most of his powerful nobles, but because he was the descendant of the great Charlemagne he held the title nonetheless. “Why then does Henry of England have to pay him tribute, when he is king of far greater lands than those of the king of France?”

  There were snickers at that and he felt embarrassed, but Elena spoke up.

  “Do not be surprised at our contempt for our own king, Talon. King Louis the Pious has lost all respect from his subjects, not least because of the way he discarded Eleanor, but also because he plays the monk and not the king. Henry Deux may be his vassal, but Philip dare not demand anything in the way of 'tribute' as you call it. He is a weak king.”

  “Do they war with each other?”

  “Constantly,” Donate said, unexpectedly. “They mainly war over parts of Normandy in the north, an area known as the Vexin, which they squabble over interminably. Ever since he took Eleanor as his wife, Henry has been in possession of Aquitaine and Normandy as well as England and is now the most powerful king of all the three great Christian kingdoms. He would like to have the Languedoc on his side, too. Why should he want to continue to be the vassal of a man like Louis?”

  “Do not forget that Louis, despite his divorce from the queen, still covets the Aquitaine.”

  “Why then does this Henry not just conquer what's left and have it all?” Talon asked.

  “Because it would be too much even for him. Even a king as powerful as Henry knows the value of balancing one enemy against another. My father taught me that and Henry has to balance a lot of enemies against one another to know any peace at all.

  “He has his hands full with the barons of Normandy and Aquitaine, truth be known, who are a quarrelsome group and don’t want an ‘English’ King. It would be easy to take the Isle de France and depose Louis, but Henry would find the other nobles of the Frankish kind to the north of here and even the lords down here in Languedoc in fierce opposition to him and he could not contain them for very long,” Roger explained.

  “Let us not forget his son Richard, who is rumored to be against his own father,” Andreu put in. He had been listening quietly to the discussion up to now. “Mark my words, mon amis, we shall hear from Richard in due time.”

  “There is a rumor that Richard is not Henry’s son at all but that of his queen and a nobleman from Aquitaine, Geoffrey of Rancon,” Elena whispered to Talon.

  Talon was surprised to find Elena at his side; she had disappeared earlier. Now she placed her hand on his arm. “Will you be my Gentle Knight for the evening, Sir Talon?”

  Roger, who had left briefly to talk to someone, rejoined them and overhearing, laughed. “Beware, Talon. An invitation of that sort can be interpreted many ways here in Occitania.”

  The others laughed gaily at this and fell to joking. The maidens gave as good as they got from the youthful noblemen. The party arrived in tim
e to be loudly introduced to the crowded hall. It was a huge hall, ablaze with candlelight, with many pillars supporting a roof that soared into the smoke-darkened rafters high above.

  Talon noticed enormous tapestries along the walls, depicting hunting scenes and battles fought against other armies of men or even dragons. Here, too, there were many banners with a confusing array of coats of arms, which he learned were just beginning to come into fashion. He noticed shields hanging from the pillars with many different designs upon them and assumed them to be booty taken in battle.

  He was again surprised to feel and see green rushes beneath his feet and wondered at this habit of putting down a grass in a hall. The air was thick with talk and the sound of horns and bells as more guests arrived to be greeted by their friends in the huge hall.

  As many as two hundred people of knightly and noble ranks, men and their ladies, were standing around in groups, gossiping, or seated at the long tables already drinking the Count’s wine and mead.

  It was clear that Roger was popular as there were calls from all sides to tarry and share a goblet of wine. This he did and often as not introduced Talon and his friends from the other counties. Talon noticed that there were few glass beakers to be seen here, for all the riches displayed. There was much silver in the form of dishes and goblets, but somewhat to his surprise he saw little gold. Unlike the women of wealth in the eastern countries he had visited, the women here did not wear their husband’s fortunes on their arms and necks.

  He was left alone briefly so he looked around at the company of barons and knights with their ladies talking loudly to one another, some, including the ladies, well into their cups, leaning across the laden tables that were heaped with huge dishes of food. Elena came back from talking to some friends and took his arm again.

  “Come along, Sir Talon. We are seated with Roger over there.” Elena pointed to where some servants were preparing a table that was off to one side of the high table.

  “From there we can watch the high table and still see the entertainment. I am looking forward to the singing tonight.”

  “I heard one of the troubadours, as you call them, in Albi and liked his songs,” Talon said. “He was bold and played to the girls. He was certainly entertaining; everyone enjoyed his songs.”

  “Many of them owe their patronage to Queen Eleanor, who encouraged them to come to the halls of lords and sing of love. It is now customary to have a troubadour sing at a banquet and my Lord Viscount of Carcassonne always has a good feast.”

  They were interrupted by a trumpet blaring near the high table and all in the hall stood for the arrival of the Count of Carcassonne. The Count made a grand entrance from behind the leather curtains that led to his private quarters; he was richly dressed and bejeweled. With him was another thick set man dressed somewhat differently to that of the assembly, but equally richly clad with ermine on his collar and a warm cloak of rich blue wool and a red tunic embroidered with three gold lions.

  Talon observed that the Count had his lady in attendance. She was a striking woman who had once been very beautiful and still carried herself with grace and dignity although her youth was behind her. Her gaze sought her son in the crowd next to Talon. She smiled at Roger, who gave low bow, smiling up at her, obviously pleased to see her.

  Her gaze moved away from him as she looked over his company, then they rested on Talon for a long moment as though assessing him. He looked back with interest and then politely bowed toward her. There was a flicker of a smile and then she and her husband were moving forward to the grand table.

  They were seated by obsequious servants along with their guest and another man in rich red robes that Talon assumed were the clothes of the Church—a small red cap on his tonsure gave him away. Talon noticed his uncle and the Master of the Templars seated nearby. They would be kept busy with questions about the news from Palestine, no doubt. His uncle had told him that the Templars had one of the best information services available to the western kingdoms.

  The Count lifted his arms almost as a blessing and the entire assembly bowed their heads while the man in red clothing said grace. Talon, who was unfamiliar with this procedure, lifted his head to observe the crowd and listened to the sonorous voice as it intoned the prayer for the day. He glanced toward the high table and was surprised to see the Countess observing him. Their eyes locked for an instant and he wondered what was in her look, but then he felt compelled to look down and thereafter kept his eyes down until the prayer was over.

  The assembly seated itself with a lot of bustle and noise as the feast got under way. The toasting began almost immediately and the Count was busy responding or calling to his people among the crowded tables below his own. A group of minstrels were playing on the other side of the hall, their music all but drowned out by the noise on the hall floor. Talon, who had found his interest piqued, observed that the Countess ate sparingly and spoke barely at all.

  Elena leaned near to him and whispered, “Our Countess has noticed you, Sir Talon. Roger must have told her about you. I fear that you will have to spend the evening telling her of your adventures, and I shall not have you as much to myself.”

  “Would you not be allowed to come, too, should she request my presence? Surely Roger would ask for you?”

  “We shall ask Roger directly. Roger, your mother had spied Talon; I am sure she will demand his presence later. Perhaps you have talked of him?”

  Roger laughed. “How could I not. Elena? I am sure we will all be present tonight at my mother’s chambers to listen to Talon recount his adventures in the Saracen lands.”

  Elena beamed and then resumed their conversation regarding the troubadours.

  “Our Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine cultivated them in her court when she ruled in her land, taking after her father and Grandfather William, both of whom loved the arts. She is now instead in that cold and misty place, England. I wonder that she wed King Henry although they say he is a vigorous man and certainly commands respect.”

  “I know nothing of either the king of France or of this Henry of whom you speak, Elena. Have you met them?”

  “Oh no, of course not! I was too young to have been at Queen Eleanor’s court when she ruled Aquitaine; and of course no one has seen the king of France, mainly because he spends most of his time wearing out his knees praying to Our Lord for absolution.”

  “Why, has he committed so many crimes that he needs to beg for absolution?” Talon asked.

  Those nearest him who overheard, laughed at the comment, but now Talon did not feel stupid as they made it plain they wanted to help him understand their world.

  Galiana leaned close to them as they talked; she had been listening. “Our great king Louis is a deeply pious man, Talon. It is said that he abhors the flesh so much that he prayed for an immaculate conception by his queen but was sorely disappointed.”

  “Who is his queen?” Talon asked.

  “He has no queen at present, but once it was Queen Eleanor who is now Queen of England and who now has three surviving sons to date by the lusty Henry,” said Elena with a wink.

  “So does the King of France have no heir?” Talon asked, intrigued.

  “If he begets an heir it will be a miracle in itself, but I have no doubt that someone will oblige and help him somehow,” Roger said, joining in the conversation with a grin. The others tittered.

  “So the king has only one wife?” Talon asked innocently.

  They all laughed again. “He has only one wife who is the Queen, Talon. He divorced Eleanor on some trumped-up charge which suited everyone although it was bitterly unfair to that lady. She is worshipped in her own lands and Louis is considered a man of no honor because of it,” Sybille interjected.

  “Why do you ask if he had only one wife, Talon? Is it so different in the Saracen world?” Roger asked curiously.

  “I recall that the Sultans could have as many wives as they wished, and many men of the Arabic lands have more than one. It is allowed that a man may have
more than one wife, but must be able to keep them well.”

  There were amused gasps from the girls and raised eyebrows from the youths. They were all seated facing the center of the hall which was a wide cleared space in which the servants ran about carrying trays of food, some of which was finding its way to their table.

  “These Sultans must be men of great status and vigor,” Sybille remarked with a smirk to Donate, who laughed. The others laughed, too, but they were intrigued nonetheless.

  “It is the custom; one of the most important things for the Sultan to do is to have many heirs.”

  “But if he breeds many heirs, who then assumes the throne when he dies or is killed?” Roger asked.

  “There you have it, My Lord. By law it should always be the first born, but they often fight for the right of heritage and then the winner, usually the strongest, sets about killing his siblings to ensure that they cannot cheat him of his right in battle or by stealth later.”

  After this the questions came fast and he was hard put to answer them all. But then the food arrived in trays delivered by the harassed, sweating servants, all in the Count’s livery. He had time to study Elena, and found himself approving of her. She was an attractive girl who had a graceful neck, her fair hair combed high onto her head leaving her high forehead and slim long neck exposed. His glance took in her well-formed body that the expensive clothes did nothing to hide. She had a thin chain around her neck with a silver cross attached but he had noticed that the people all seemed quite pious; many women wore a cross of similar type so he did not remark it very much. She must have noticed his scrutiny as she turned and gave him a frank look and then smiled at him. He smiled back.

  He also noticed that there was a good deal more formality at the high table. The Count leaned toward his guest and often offered him a morsel, pointing to a new plate of oysters or pheasants tongue, boasting lightly that his cooks were among the best in Christendom. They seemed to be involved in an earnest and very serious discussion that included the clergyman and the two Templars. He wondered what they might be discussing.