Armand’s First Letter. Amelia’s First Letter.
17 September 1019
13 Norwich Street, Yorke
Dear Jack,
It’s really a shame you weren’t in town yesterday to attend my presentation to His Majesty. I am sure you would have enjoyed watching me hobbling along in court shoes and satin, like a frog plucked from his cozy pond and posed on a velvet pillow for display to a crowd of hungry storks.
Other than His Majesty, there were three sorts of people in the hall: my family and friends, a variety of courtiers, and a largish collection of palace functionaries. My family and friends were all pleased for me; how not? But the courtiers looked down their noses at me, and the functionaries all had the air of wanting to do so.
I am unsure of the precise nature of their objections: was it that I am a provincial? For I most assuredly am, despite having been born and raised in Yorke. Was it that I am engaged in trade? Or was it simply that I am a member of a craft guild and therefore (despite my father’s pretensions) ought to be invisible to the higher ranks of society save when my services are needed?
Or perhaps it was all of the above. But I certainly did hear at least one flower of the ton mutter “encroaching mushroom” as I walked up the red carpet toward His Majesty.
I was amused rather than insulted, for I reflected that those nobles present doubtless felt the same about the mutterer.
I approached the throne; I knelt; a heraldric sort of person read a list of my accomplishments from a scroll; I kissed His Majesty’s hand and spoke an oath of fealty; he tapped me on my shoulders with a sword, naming me Sir Armand, and then spoke his own oath; functionaries drew me to my feet and caparisoned me with the sword belt, the sword, the badge, and so forth; I bowed low; I backed three steps away; and the thing was done, to muted applause.
I have never felt such a fool in my life.
There was a reception afterwards, of course, at which functionaries served drinks, courtiers spoke to each other, and my family and friends spoke to me.
Oh, there were a few exceptions. Lord Doncaster was present, of course, and joined our circle with a broad grin and a bow; and indicating the courtiers with a tilt of his head, he leaned close and said, “Never mind them. Drones, most of them; useless in desperate times.”
A functionary approached shortly after that, and escorted Amelie and I to a small chamber nearby, where to my surprise we found ourselves nearly alone with His Majesty.
“We are in private, here,” he said, “and so I may speak plainly.” He looked at us frankly, and a little sadly.
“Sir Armand, Lady Amelie,” he said, “I wish to apologize to you for the use I have made of you this day. I know well the mood of my Armorican subjects, and that you share it fully. But,” and here, he held up a hand, “it may be some consolation to you to know that I would have raised you to the Armorican peerage if it had seemed at all prudent to institute such a thing.”
I grimaced despite my best efforts to school my features, and he chuckled.
“Just so,” he said. Then he paused and looked at me expectantly.
So I took a deep breath, and said, “I am your Majesty’s loyal subject.”
“Indeed you are,” he said, “and I must be seen to reward such, if I am to bind Armorica to the Crown. And you will understand, knowing my commitments to my Armorican subjects, that I have but few ways to do so. I cannot give you land, for the land of Armorica does not belong to the Crown; I cannot appoint you to a government position or grant you a sinecure as the Third Companion of the Chamber or some such absurd title, for those are Cumbrian positions—not, I think, that you would be fool enough to desire such.”
I shook my head, and he nodded.
“But this,” he said, “this is the least thing I may do that will last. Letters of commendation from the crown are forgotten in months if not weeks; but you shall be a knight of my realm of Armorica for the rest of your life, and your heirs after you.”
“I am grateful to your Majesty,” I said, and Amelie curtsied.
“No, you are not,” he said, chuckling again. “I am doing you no favor. But you will not lose by it. I have instructed Lord Astley that the new Armorican constitution must include a provision that knights of the realm may appeal to the Crown in any legal dispute. There may be other provisions as well. We shall see.”
Then he looked at me sternly. “We have granted you a coat-of-arms,” he said, “and we expect you to display it where it can be seen by passersby, in both Mont-Havre and your town of Bois-de-Bas.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” I said.
He smiled; and made a sign to the functionary, who escorted us back to the reception. I passed the smile along to all and sundry, and most especially the courtiers, who clearly knew where I had been, receivinga wink from Lord Doncaster. And then I left, with my party, as soon as it was acceptable to do so.
Which was not soon; for it was clear that His Majesty expected his approval to be on display in Yorke as well as Armorica.
The food was excellent, and the wine was flowing freely; and I fear I greatly disappointed courtiers and functionaries alike by not having to be carted off in a wheelbarrow.
On the carriage ride back to Norfolk Street—for the palace had provided us with a carriage for the event—I solemnly informed Amelie that she must now be addressed as Lady Amelie—to which she replied serenely that being called Madame suited her very well, whether in Cumbrian or Provençese.
“But you,” she said, with a wicked gleam, “You must always be Sir Armand, n’est-ce pas? Remember that dear Lord Gilroy expects you to be a model to the bonhommes!”
“Trust me, dear, I shall begin as I mean to go on,” I said. “And I mean to go on being Armand, for the life of me, coat of arms or not.”
“Exactement,” she said, and tucked her arm in mine.
Your newly equestrian cousin,
Armand
____
Photo by Claudio Schwarz on Unsplash
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