The Lioness and Her Knight (30 page)

Ywain hesitated, and Luneta said, "Would you, as a woman, help him? Will you take his cause and plead for him?"

Laudine nodded decisively. "I will. I promise you this, O Knight, that if it is in my power to procure your forgiveness, I will do so. Who is the lady?"

Slowly, Ywain sank to his knees before Laudine. Then he reached up and, with trembling fingers, removed his helm. "Her name is Lady Laudine," Ywain said. "Can you forgive me?"

Laudine's eyes grew round and bright. "I have been waiting to do so for an eternity."

After that, everything was kissing and murmuring apologies and tender nothings to each other. It was appalling stuff, for the most part, and Luneta had to turn away and concentrate hard so as not to hear any of it with her inner ear. As soon as they could break in, she and the others made their excuses and left the lovers alone, even taking Lass with them. Out in the hallway, Luneta sighed with relief. "Whew!" she said. "I can see it's going to be excessively dull around here for a while."

"Oh?" Luneta's mother asked. "Do you find love so uninteresting?"

"Don't you?" Luneta said.

Luneta's father took Luneta's arm. "You put your mother in an awkward position," he said. "Even supposing that she agrees with you, she can hardly say so in front of me. It would hurt my feelings."

"Oh, you know I don't mean that," Luneta protested. "I meant all that snuggling and kissing that
young
lovers do."

Her father's lips quivered, but he managed to control his countenance as he replied, "I see. Whereas the sort of love that decrepit specimens like your mother and I might have is less disgusting to you." Luneta started to answer indignantly, but he waved away her protests and led them out of the hall and into another room. "It doesn't matter, really, my dear. Because I agree with you—we should leave Ywain and Laudine as soon as we are able. But I was wondering, where would you like to go?"

Luneta hesitated. Knowing what she wanted and saying it aloud were two different matters.

"Because," her father continued, "I thought I might invite your friend Rhience to come back to Orkney with us to see the estate, and it would be nice if you'd come along to help us entertain him."

A warm feeling filled Luneta's breast, but the pleasant sense came abruptly to an end when Rhience said, "Very kind of you, Sir Gaheris, but I'm not sure that I can accept."

"Oh?" Luneta's father asked, surprised. "You've other plans?"

Rhience nodded. He looked apologetically at Luneta and said, "You see, I've a secret that I haven't told anyone in all the past months when I've been cavorting about in my fool's clothing."

"Something terrible, I imagine," Luneta's mother said placidly, sitting in an armchair.

"Indeed, I almost think it is, Lady Lynet," Rhience said. "At least in light of some recently expressed opinions. You see, my lady, I—like my friend Ywain—am in love."

Luneta's heart shrank and withered, and for a moment she felt dizzy. "Really?" she asked brightly. "But you never said anything about this lady at all."

"Fancy that," Luneta's mother murmured.

"No, I didn't," Rhience said. "I thought it might cause some awkwardness as we rode."

"Of course," Luneta said. "It would have been cruel to speak of love in front of Ywain."

"Just so," Rhience said soberly.

Feeling the need to keep talking so that her own despair wouldn't show, Luneta said, "And who is this lucky lady? Does she know of your love?"

"I don't think so," Rhience replied.

"Well, does she love you?"

"I've never seen any sign of it."

A faint hope rose in Luneta's breast: maybe this unknown lady, whom she already hated, would turn Rhience down. But she forced herself to continue speaking calmly. "Well, haven't you learned anything from Ywain? If you love this woman, you should tell her so."

"Ah, but that's where my problem comes in. Terrible shy around ladies, I am. So I was wondering...," he trailed off hesitantly.

"Yes?" Luneta asked.

"I thought maybe I could get you to put in a good word for me. You see, you did such a good job just now getting Ywain and Laudine together—in fact, you've done it twice."

"I thought you disapproved of my interfering in other people's lives," Luneta said quickly.

"But I love this lady so much," Rhience said. "I don't know what I'd do if she turned me down. No, I won't think of it. The idea's too horrible."

Luneta swallowed. This was Rhience, and if she could do something to make him happy, then she would. "All right," she said in a small voice. She looked at the floor between them, and with an effort said, "I'll do whatever I can for you."

Then, to her surprise, Rhience took her hand. Startled, she looked up. Rhience's eyes were glowing as he looked into hers. "Do you promise?" he said softly.

The world began to whirl, and Luneta nodded, suddenly understanding but unable to speak for joy. The silence was broken by her father. "Lynet, my love, I believe it's time we went to the other room."

"Don't be ridiculous, Gary. It's just now getting interesting."

"All the same, I think we are in the way here and should go away," Luneta's father said firmly.

Her mother sighed. "But I wanted to see my hoity-toity daughter snuggling and kissing and all that boring stuff," she complained as she rose to her feet. "Oh, well—I'm sure I'll have other opportunities."

Then Rhience kissed Luneta, who found it not at all dull. When they parted, she looked up into Rhience's face. "I love you," she whispered.

"Excuse me," came the voice of Luneta's father from the door. "We're just leaving, I promise, but I was wondering, would you like me to take the lioness out with me?"

"Which one?" Rhience said, his eyes still on Luneta but his lips curving into a gentle smile.

"The four-legged one, of course," Luneta's father replied. "The other one's far too dangerous."

The great writers of the ancient world didn't go in for love stories much. The epics of Homer and Virgil are really just elaborate adventure stories for boys, and their female characters are like the women in modern action movies, mostly disposable. This literary attitude didn't start to change until around the eleventh century, when the minstrels of southern France began to compose stories in which women had a more important role. These singers still told of brave warriors duking it out, just as Homer did, but these new heroes—now, knights in armor—were fighting for their adored ladies, and the stories ended not just with victory, but with requited love.

I don't mean to say that these love stories were exactly like the ones that we're familiar with today, though. For one thing, the lovers hardly ever got married. In fact, usually the lady was already married to someone else. But to the French minstrels, this wasn't a problem. You see, in the eleventh century, marriage didn't have anything to do with love anyway. Marriage was an economic agreement between families, usually arranged by people who didn't have to live with either of the principal characters. People got married in order to form alliances between families and to have offspring. Love? That would just complicate things. This is why the great love affairs of Arthurian literature are between Lancelot and Guinevere and Tristram and Iseult, not one of whom was married to his or her beloved.

The greatest writer from this tradition—although he was rather more than just a minstrel—was the court poet Chrétien de Troyes, and in several of his works he celebrates the typical extramarital love affairs of his time. In his greatest poem, though, he does something surprising and new. In this marvelous poem, called
The Knight of the Lion,
Chrétien brings together two people whose love actually leads to marriage. The tale of Ywain and Laudine's complex love affair, including mistakes and misunderstandings and finally forgiveness and reconciliation, is centuries ahead of its time.

In my own retelling of this tale, I've used as much of Chrétien's original as I could. Of course, by telling the story through the experience of Luneta, I've changed some of the focus, but I didn't invent my heroine: Chrétien also tells of a smart, willful lady working behind the scenes to bring Ywain and Laudine together—twice. I did add the character of Rhience the Fool and change Ywain's lion to a lioness, but most of what is left came in some form from the wonderful original story.

You ought to read it someday.

—Gerald Morris