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Authors: Nicole Galland
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irrelevant to this discussion, Lienor.”
She made a frustrated sound but decided not to pursue it; it would gain her nothing. She tried a new tactic. “We all know why you’re doing this,” she said with exasperation. “You think I’ll seek out mischief if you are not hovering over me. But that was ten years ago, Willem. I was a child. ”
He grimaced. “Lienor, please don’t dredge up— “
“When will you stop punishing me for a childhood mistake?” she demanded. “May I ask how long you intend to keep me on probation for one single, juvenile misadventure?”
“Misadventure?” Willem snapped. “We were almost killed. And for the love of God, that poor— ” He stopped abruptly, grimacing, and crossed himself.
“I’m not planning to confront anyone this time,” she argued. “I’m not going to walk to Oricourt again— why do you think I would do that? I simply want the freedom to step outside my own front gate, or down to the river.”
Willem slouched back in his chair, wishing he were already on the road. “Lienor…” He sighed, and stopped, not knowing what else to say.
“How do you think Jouglet would react if you told him I was locked up here alone?”
Willem laughed softly. “He would probably come back and offer to be locked up with you.”
“I’m serious. He would want to know that I was left behind in a state of relative contentment. If this is his scheme, and I think you must admit it probably is, he would be stricken to learn that he had contributed to my misery. Do not make that the truth of it. Leave me here content.” She smiled, pleased to have finally found the persuasive argument: “Do it for Jouglet’s sake.”
Willem, unconsciously tapping his foot on the rushes, sighed as if the fate of the world hung on his decision. “Very well,” he said at last. “Only if Erec’s guards escort you. On your honor.” She clapped her hands once with satisfaction and threw herself on him to kiss his cheek. “But if I have any reason to suspect you have abused the arrangement,” he went on, smiling despite himself at her instantly renewed affection, “that is the end of it. There will be no second chance. I will keep you under my thumb until we manage to marry you off.”
She placed one hand over her heart. “I shall remain as chaste as if my wedding day were already set,” she promised with a smile.
4
Exemplum
[a narrative that instructs]
27 June
C heckmate, sire.” Marcus sounded dutifully apologetic. Jouglet chuckled— respectfully— from the window seat of this, the handsome royal dayroom of Koenigsbourg Castle.
Konrad, swathed in a gold-encrusted chamber robe, stared down at the board as if he could not imagine how Marcus had done it. “How is it that you are the only one who ever beats me at chess?”
“Perhaps because I’m not skilled enough to strategize a losing game, Your Majesty,” Marcus said demurely.
Konrad laughed. “So all the others can best me but devise games that make them seem to lose? You’re saying that I am, in fact, the worst chess player at court and you are the second worse.”
“I would simply make the observation, sire, that I lose to everybody else, and you always lose to me. In fact, Alphonse of Burgundy, whom you always checkmate within twenty moves, is one of the best players I know.”
“How do we account for this bad chess player being so strong in strategy in the court and on the battlefield?” Konrad demanded with cheerful smugness. He signaled a page to slice him a bit of cheese, and reached down to pat his favorite bloodhound, who lay dozing happily in the rushes by his leather slippers.
“Oh, that’s easy, sire,” Jouglet said from a relaxed slouch at the window seat, laying down the fiddle. “Many great warriors cannot think in the abstract, they must be in situ to grasp what lies ahead of them. Willem of Dole, for example, cannot even win a chess game against his own mother, yet he— “
“I find it
She made a frustrated sound but decided not to pursue it; it would gain her nothing. She tried a new tactic. “We all know why you’re doing this,” she said with exasperation. “You think I’ll seek out mischief if you are not hovering over me. But that was ten years ago, Willem. I was a child. ”
He grimaced. “Lienor, please don’t dredge up— “
“When will you stop punishing me for a childhood mistake?” she demanded. “May I ask how long you intend to keep me on probation for one single, juvenile misadventure?”
“Misadventure?” Willem snapped. “We were almost killed. And for the love of God, that poor— ” He stopped abruptly, grimacing, and crossed himself.
“I’m not planning to confront anyone this time,” she argued. “I’m not going to walk to Oricourt again— why do you think I would do that? I simply want the freedom to step outside my own front gate, or down to the river.”
Willem slouched back in his chair, wishing he were already on the road. “Lienor…” He sighed, and stopped, not knowing what else to say.
“How do you think Jouglet would react if you told him I was locked up here alone?”
Willem laughed softly. “He would probably come back and offer to be locked up with you.”
“I’m serious. He would want to know that I was left behind in a state of relative contentment. If this is his scheme, and I think you must admit it probably is, he would be stricken to learn that he had contributed to my misery. Do not make that the truth of it. Leave me here content.” She smiled, pleased to have finally found the persuasive argument: “Do it for Jouglet’s sake.”
Willem, unconsciously tapping his foot on the rushes, sighed as if the fate of the world hung on his decision. “Very well,” he said at last. “Only if Erec’s guards escort you. On your honor.” She clapped her hands once with satisfaction and threw herself on him to kiss his cheek. “But if I have any reason to suspect you have abused the arrangement,” he went on, smiling despite himself at her instantly renewed affection, “that is the end of it. There will be no second chance. I will keep you under my thumb until we manage to marry you off.”
She placed one hand over her heart. “I shall remain as chaste as if my wedding day were already set,” she promised with a smile.
4
Exemplum
[a narrative that instructs]
27 June
C heckmate, sire.” Marcus sounded dutifully apologetic. Jouglet chuckled— respectfully— from the window seat of this, the handsome royal dayroom of Koenigsbourg Castle.
Konrad, swathed in a gold-encrusted chamber robe, stared down at the board as if he could not imagine how Marcus had done it. “How is it that you are the only one who ever beats me at chess?”
“Perhaps because I’m not skilled enough to strategize a losing game, Your Majesty,” Marcus said demurely.
Konrad laughed. “So all the others can best me but devise games that make them seem to lose? You’re saying that I am, in fact, the worst chess player at court and you are the second worse.”
“I would simply make the observation, sire, that I lose to everybody else, and you always lose to me. In fact, Alphonse of Burgundy, whom you always checkmate within twenty moves, is one of the best players I know.”
“How do we account for this bad chess player being so strong in strategy in the court and on the battlefield?” Konrad demanded with cheerful smugness. He signaled a page to slice him a bit of cheese, and reached down to pat his favorite bloodhound, who lay dozing happily in the rushes by his leather slippers.
“Oh, that’s easy, sire,” Jouglet said from a relaxed slouch at the window seat, laying down the fiddle. “Many great warriors cannot think in the abstract, they must be in situ to grasp what lies ahead of them. Willem of Dole, for example, cannot even win a chess game against his own mother, yet he— “
“I find it
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