Revenge of the Rose (10 page)

“My cousin is uninitiated in the ways of women,” Erec taunted.

“I am not,” Willem rebutted unconvincingly, looking out the smaller window.

“Well, excepting the Widow Sunia,” Erec said. Willem swung around to stare at him.

“How do you know about that?”

“Everyone in the
county
knows about that.”

Jouglet, looking startled but delighted, clapped and made obscene hooting noises. “This is marvelous fodder for some new tale, a fabliau I think. I must admit I’m relieved to hear the fellow has an appetite, he feigns saintliness in my company.”

Willem ignored this. “Erec, tell me how you know that.”

Erec’s pimpled face grinned wickedly. “You’re hardly the only one she gives her favors to, you know, cousin.” Willem blinked at him, frowning. “Except with you she knows you would never take advantage of a lady, so she invents frivolous tasks for you to complete so that you feel you’ve earned it. Although I must tell you, she was relieved when she talked you out of that nonsense about trying to woo her according to the rules of courtly love. The poetry you insist upon reciting for her? She’d rather you not bother. Why you’d waste your time begging for anything but fornication, when fornication is really all you’re after, is beyond her. She asked me to mention it.”

Willem stared at him as if he were speaking Russian. This tickled both of his companions even more. “I must memorize this!” the minstrel whispered very loudly to Erec. “I’ll earn a year’s wages in a week for singing this one.” And then to the dumbstruck knight: “Oh, really, Willem, don’t be such an innocent. Take a bath and clothe your most magnificent body in your most magnificent clothes. I’m here to take you to the start of your new life tonight. Don’t stand there flabbergasted because some old lady is kind enough to indulge your peculiar form of chivalry.”

“She’s…not an old lady,” Willem said in a tone of embarrassed yet paternal defensiveness.

“Is she rich? Why don’t you marry her?”

Willem hurriedly shook his head, a blush starting on his cheeks. “I am not worthy of that.”

Jouglet examined him, then grinned at Erec. “I thought only women developed a fond attachment to their first partner in carnality.”

Erec grinned back. “My cousin is an unusual gentleman in almost all regards.”

“Where is the
bath
?” Willem demanded, bright pink. He threw a linen robe around himself and went out on the balcony to call for it.

“He’s not actually attached to her,” Erec continued in a low conspiratorial voice to Jouglet. “He simply feels that he
ought
to be, because he believes that would be
proper.
It amuses her no end. But she really could do without the serenading.”

“Our dear Willem,” Jouglet said with affection, glancing after him down the steps. “He’ll be in for a shock at court.”

“She won’t even accept trifles from him anymore, she knows how poor he is,” Erec went on, with a certain satisfaction. “That mortifies him, and he tries to stay away, but then he burns and eventually on some very feeble pretext ends up at her gates— “

“And she lets him come straight in,” Jouglet concluded in a low, lecherous tone, with illustrative gestures.

Erec howled. “Always. His sister’s got a perfectly pretty serving girl, which would be much more convenient, but she’s a bit of a prude, and he believes the knightly code should extend even to peasants.”

“Actually, it does,” Jouglet corrected, sobering, then sat back and affected nonchalance as Willem reentered.

“Actually, it does
in theory,
” Erec corrected, doing the same.

“The bath is ready, in the courtyard,” Willem told his cousin, and the two of them, disrobed, went out. Jouglet followed.

They settled into the tubs by the stairs. The page boys scrubbed their backs and the innkeeper’s daughter made eyes at them across the small cobblestoned yard as she helped her mother pound moth eggs from the linens. Jouglet perched at the edge of Willem’s tub and quietly coached him in preparation for the evening.

“Don’t bring up your lineage,” the minstrel began. “And if you’re asked about it say as little as possible. Don’t mention Lienor, and if you’re asked about her don’t say much either— the way these fellows’ minds work they’ll assume your affection is incestuous.” Willem looked disgusted, and Jouglet laughed. “Do not ever suggest you are not rich. In fact, make offerings, give gifts, empty your purse to appear heedlessly magnanimous— “

“Jouglet,” Willem protested uncomfortably.

“Trust me, all this is for your betterment. If it helps, consider it your Christian duty— you’re proving you’re not avaricious. One cannot be sinful by way of greed when he gives all he has so merrily away.” Jouglet looked at him comfortingly; the familiar hazel eyes winked. Willem, staring into them, felt himself relax a little and smiled gratefully. Then Jouglet grinned and called out to the innkeeper’s daughter: “Musette, my darling!”

“Is there anyone you don’t know?” Willem demanded as Musette began to cross toward the tubs.

“Hello, Jouglet.” The young woman smiled adoringly.

“Hello, pretty lady. My knight Willem here wants to give you a little gift. Upstairs in his chamber, lying beside his hauberk, is a hairpin with beads in it that happen to exactly match your eyes. He meant to bring it down, but he’s so overwhelmed by all this excitement— did you hear he’s going to sup at the castle tonight?”

“Yes, I heard that!” Musette said, smiling at Willem with almost the same smile she had bestowed upon the minstrel. Willem and Erec, in perfect unison, eyed her curving form from head to toe with appreciation. But Jouglet was the one she winked at, after blessing Willem with thanks for the gift and leaping up the stairs to retrieve it.

“But Jouglet, I did not bring a hairpin— “

“Yes, you did,” Jouglet said. “And lots more. I’ve seen to it.”

They stared at each other for a moment in silence. “This is an elaborate project you’ve set for yourself,” Willem observed, not sure if he should be amused or alarmed. “You’re tossing me off a boat into deep water.”

“Which will teach you how to swim,” Jouglet concluded, and with an avuncular chuckle, slapped the surface of the bathwater so that it splashed into Willem’s face.

Willem grabbed the musician’s wrist and almost pulled Jouglet into the tub with him.

“You two are enjoying yourselves far too much,” Erec said in a lazy voice of contentment as the boy massaged his scalp. “Stick to business. What else does he need to know? Surely you realize how ignorant the fellow is, you’d better spell it out for him.”

Jouglet squatted on some musty straw between the tubs. “He’s not the only neophyte in this courtyard, milord; you should put some attention to your provincial accent or you’ll stand out like a country clod. And try to refrain from teeth-flicking if someone irritates you, it makes you boorish.” Knowing he deserved the jab, Erec grimaced. Jouglet softened, gave him a friendlier look. “I know your heart is sound, m’lord, and if you will be ruled by me a little, I think you’ll find we’re natural allies.” Jouglet turned back to Willem. “Most of all you should know that the brother recently arrived from Rome, Paul, is an unwelcome visitor.”

“Why unwelcome?”

Jouglet smiled knowingly. “There is an occasionally entertaining history of familial jealousy. More to the point, though— Konrad and the old pope had some troubles with each other. His Holiness very publicly excommunicated His Imperial Majesty, so His Imperial Majesty very publicly rounded up an army to attack His Holiness.”

Willem nodded. “I wanted to enlist, but my uncle would not let me.”

“Yes, I was looking forward to it myself, great fodder for song-writing, but alas, Konrad was talked out of shedding holy blood. In their settlement the pope demanded that one of his close officers perpetually maintain a presence at the royal court. When Innocent became pope earlier this year, he appointed Konrad’s own brother Paul for the honor. Paul had expected to be elected pope himself, and in the hopes that he might yet earn the office, he endears himself to the Mother Church with various little schemes to gratuitously undermine Konrad’s authority.”

“So I had best not discuss religion,” Willem said. Jouglet nodded. “What may I discuss, then?”

Jouglet buffeted the knight’s wet shoulder. “Your prowess, of course! Tell them how you came to be knighted before your majority.”

Erec laughed. “Willem was knighted by the archbishop of Basel because he saved His Eminence from a band of angry knights during a tournament His Eminence was preaching against.”

Jouglet grimaced. “Ah. Then perhaps don’t tell them how you came to be knighted. But you may talk about tournaments in general. Or tell them all how eager you are to follow that Fulk of Neuilly lunatic on his holy war against the infidels.”

“I can’t even consider such an honor until Lienor has been safely mar— “

“Don’t tell them that!” Jouglet insisted. “Your only concern should be proving your manliness. The only females you should bother yourself about are the Blessed Virgin and whatever lady is lucky enough to eventually become your patroness. You gain nothing at all by showing solicitude for an orphaned baby sister. And most of all, Willem, you must not be so wide-eyed. Don’t gush about how magnificent the castle is. The spoons are solid silver— don’t heft them with wonder, or gawk at anything else you see. Don’t express amazement at the number of courses served, or the quality of the tapestries, or the extravagant cut of Konrad’s tunic. And don’t trust a soul there. Even Konrad. He’s disarmingly friendly most of the time, but he can snap, and when he does— and I am not speaking figuratively— heads roll. Do not make any alliances or enemies until you understand what is really in your interest. Smile politely and keep your guard up. You’ll be under intense scrutiny. Be careful how you speak. Every sentence must suggest you are beyond any kind of reproach. Don’t say, ‘I can’t ride in the upcoming tournament because I have no helmet.’ Say instead, ‘Ah! A tournament! I’m the man to win it! All I need is a helmet!’”

Willem rolled his eyes, but Jouglet was serious. “Say it.”

The knight took a breath and repeated, dubiously, “Ah, a tournament, I’m the man to win it, all I need is a helmet.”

“That was convincing,” Erec said with mild sarcasm.

Jouglet clapped Willem’s wet shoulder approvingly. “Good man. And when in doubt, just keep your mouth shut. That always impresses Konrad because nobody ever does it. He’ll think you are profound.”

Willem felt dizzy contemplating how entirely his fortune was hanging on the minstrel’s plans. It was thrilling and yet terrifying— and for a moment, extremely claustrophobic. “Will I know anyone there but you?”

Jouglet hesitated. “Perhaps you’ll recognize some garrison knights from tournaments. And…from here to the western border, things are prickly, so Konrad likes to keep an eye on the counts and margraves, especially with France recently become so aggressive. So there are a number of nobles here from your backwater part of the world.”

Willem tensed slightly, then made himself recline against the back of the wooden tub. He voiced a sigh so tense it could be heard across the yard. “And would that include His Majesty’s uncle, fat old Alphonse, Count of Burgundy?”

Jouglet shrugged. “Probably. So what? He won’t hurt you.”

Willem glanced toward Erec, whose attention was distracted by watching Musette saunter back down the stairs. Willem whispered, tensely, “I have a vendetta with Alphonse. He sinned against me and tried to cover that sin with another far more heinous.” Automatically, as he always did at the thought of this, he crossed himself. “He’ll try to undermine me— “

“Don’t worry about anything, my friend!” Jouglet insisted. “I’ll be there as your guardian angel, and the whole point of the evening is that you will meet the emperor and some potential patronesses who already think you are sensational.”

A tentative smile of disbelief washed over Willem’s face. “This is all extraordinary, Jouglet,” he breathed, and for reassurance again sought the minstrel’s calming gaze.

Jouglet smiled back and whispered, with sincere affection, “I am delighted that you chose to play along.”

M
arcus,
in his duties as court steward, never liked introducing unmarried gentlemen to Imogen’s father; he could almost hear the balance shift against his own favor as Alphonse sized up every bachelor as a potential son-in-law. At least this fellow, however rugged and hearty, had no land to speak of and no proper title; also his tunic, although a nice bright scarlet, was simple and hardly suggested wealth. He had the bedazzled look of a country boy entering the gargantuan sandstone fortress for the first time— coupled with the unease of a knight who’d had to surrender his weapons at the gate.

They stood at the extreme lower end of the hall by the primary entrance. “Willem, son of the late Henri Silvan of Dole, and one of your vassals,” Marcus said, politely but as offhandedly as he could. “Willem, you may recognize your liege lord, Alphonse, Count of Burgundy.”

The count’s pale eyes began to widen in the appraising manner Marcus was so used to, but then the widening increased until he was indecorously close to bug-eyed. And yet he smiled.

Willem was neither bug-eyed nor smiling, but his lips were pressed taut together. The distracting enormity and opulence of his surroundings vanished from his mind; he was staring hard at the count.

For all his height, Alphonse of Burgundy had to look up slightly at Willem. “God in heaven, son, you’ve grown up to a strapping fine young man,” he said heartily. Perhaps a little too heartily.

“Thank you, milord,” said Willem, expressionless.

“I’m glad you’ve turned out well. I shall remember to summon you to the Oricourt garrison. I tend to forget about the little knights on the borders, please forgive me.” His eyes flickered beyond Willem, and his face lit up with genuine relief. “And is this not Erec of Tavaux, my newest-risen vassal!” Alphonse brushed past Willem and warmly embraced Erec; Erec, even more dazed than Willem by their remarkable surroundings, hardly registered who was speaking to him. “But why are you costumed like a squire?” the count chitchatted nervously, ushering Erec away.