Revenge of the Rose

by Nicole Galland

  “‘Free of manly tendencies,’ I like that,” Konrad snorted with a sarcastic laugh, and gestured impatiently with one jeweled hand. “Yes, go on. We don’t have much time, Paul will explode if we don’t let him out to begin his gossip soon, so let’s be specific about what that gossip is.”

  “…so free of manly tendencies,” Jouglet repeated unsurely, “that I am allowed to be alone with the lady. We are friends. I forgot myself. I must learn to correct my behavior now that she is empress.”

  “That story is not interesting,” Konrad said conclusively. “It is hardly worthy of death, Jouglet, but it will have to do. I shall now call the guards, damn you.” He uncrossed his arms and reached for the door bolt.

  “Willem, do something!” said Lienor. He was still holding Paul. The cardinal, knowing he could not muscle his way out of Willem’s grip, had stopped struggling, but Willem kept one large arm wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides.

  “Yes, that’s an excellent suggestion. Willem, hold forth a moment,” Konrad said viciously. He let go of the bolt. “What do you have to say about this? How very ticklish for you.”

  After a pause Willem said slowly, “I see nothing untoward in what we have encountered here.”

  Konrad looked irritated. “You Burgundians really are peculiar in your personal relations.”

  Lienor made a quiet sound of worried protest. “Sire, it is innocent,” she insisted. “Jouglet, please— “

  “No,” Jouglet said mechanically.

  “He’s going to kill you!” Lienor cried. “Willem, for the love of God, help me! Say something useful!”

  Willem looked back and forth between them, aware that Konrad was studying his face. “I have sworn not to say anything useful in this matter,” he said quietly to his sister, and then gave Jouglet an unhappy look.

  “Thank you,” said Jouglet quietly. “You are a good man, Willem.”

  Konrad considered the three of them with disgusted disappointment. “That’s it, then? Nothing more?” He reached again for the bolt. “I’ll have the guards take you to the prison, Jouglet, and at dawn you will fittingly and economically be placed on the gallows erected for Marcus. If my bride proves to be a virgin after all, perhaps I will commute your sentence to banishment.”

  “I can survive banishment, sire,” Jouglet said quietly. “It is preferable to some other fates.”

  Konrad scowled. “It annoys me to be deprived of my favorite entertainer just because you do not have a better tale to tell, Jouglet. I am surprised and extremely displeased at your not having one.”

  “Sire,” Willem said suddenly, holding up his free hand. “You need not be deprived at all. It is but one aspect of him that troubles you, and I suggest you rid yourself of that and nothing more. Allow me to castrate him.”

  Lienor visibly relaxed; Jouglet, after a start, gave Willem a look of grudging approval.

  Konrad glanced at him sharply, stroking his neat beard with one hand. No, not stroking it exactly— using his hand to hide his mouth. He was actually fighting back a smile. “Don’t you think that will be a rather tricky operation?” he asked, barely straight-faced. “Considering Jouglet is a woman?”

  The faces of the others went absolutely blank. Willem was so startled he let go of Paul; Paul was so amazed he did not think to escape.

  “Yes, I thought I was right about that,” Konrad said, in response to the trio’s reaction. “And now I’m certain. Which suggests I must reappraise my general view of the female sex. So you see, brother dear, we have interrupted nothing more than a sisterly embrace.”

  “Sire, you are mistaken— ” Jouglet began voicelessly.

  “No I’m not, Jouglet, and you will prove it now,” the emperor said firmly. “It will save your life.”

  “Your Majesty is going to extraordinary measures to protect the new empress’s reputation,” said Jouglet, voice high with tension. “Let us not descend to the level of farce. If you will exonerate Her Ladyship, I will accept the fate of being a fugitive minstrel.”

  “Accept? I can force you easily, Jouglet,” Konrad warned. “I would rather not have it appear to Paul as if you had anything to hide at all.”

  Jouglet said nothing.

  “Brother, this is ludicrous,” Paul said, and took a step toward the door. Swiftly Konrad stepped in his way and Paul backed down, knowing here too he would lose the fight.

  Konrad turned to Willem in annoyance. “Save your lover, Willem. Tell us what is under the tunic.”

  Jouglet looked at the floor and cursed under her breath.

  Willem made an expression as if he’d eaten something that tickled the inside of his mouth. “A minstrel, sire,” he said.

  “Do not choose this moment to attempt artfulness, Willem, it is not your forte,” Konrad scolded. “This is Jouglet’s life at stake.”

  “Forgive me, sire,” Willem said, bowing his head and recovering himself at once. “But if you are after preserving Jouglet’s life, I think you should banish the man.”

  “Willem!” Lienor cried. “How can you say that? Jouglet, are you mad?” Jouglet was giving Willem a look of rueful gratitude. Lienor shoved her slightly in frustration.

  “I would not have Jouglet caged, Lienor,” Willem said quietly. Looking unhappy, he paced to the darkest side of the small stone room, away from the altar and the lamp.

  Paul had recovered from his astonishment and was watching these interactions with alacrity. “Even if you banish Jouglet, the empress has been found alone with him in his arms. Your marriage is over, brother.”

  Jouglet turned on Paul ferociously. Finally freed from Lienor’s hair she leapt toward him and with an outstretched hand, a finger pointed, she snarled, “You! You are always the source of my headaches and misfortunes, you pudgy spiritual midget. After all that’s happened to bring about this wedding, I shall not let you undo it. Very well then, yes, I am a woman. Shall I prove it?” Her hands energized by her fury, she untied her breeches quickly and briefly revealed herself to him. Paul looked dismayed. Konrad, she noticed with appreciation, averted his gaze entirely. “Is that enough for you?” she said, tying the belt up again and straightening her tunic with irritation. “Will you cease this stupid prattle? What objection can there possibly be to a woman’s embracing her dearest friend on her wedding day?”

  “You were doing more than that I think,” Paul said, recovering. “What you were doing may not be treason, but it still falls under the church’s censure.” With a happy insight, he grinned. “This is even better than your being a man— as a man you merely jeopardized his marriage, as a woman you jeopardize his entire court!”

  Lienor made a worried sound and sat down on the chest, but Jouglet laughed scornfully. “Oh bollocks,” she said dismissively. She began to untie her purse and reached into it for something.

  “If His Majesty surrounds himself with deviant, loose women who go about dressed like men and meddle in state affairs— “

  “His Majesty surrounds himself with innocent Burgundians who deserve a little vengeance,” Jouglet corrected and pulled out a large gold ring in need of polishing. She shoved it in front of Paul’s face; he pulled his chin back a little, making a distasteful expression, but when he realized what he was looking at he gasped. “Where did you get that?” he demanded weakly.

  “You know where I got it,” Jouglet said with angry satisfaction. “I stole it from you. Shortly after you stole it from your father on his deathbed.”

  Paul’s face went chalk white and he fell to his knees, as Jouglet, despite herself, hooted with laughter.

  “What is it?” Konrad snatched it out of her hand, recognized his father’s signet ring, and gasped, dumbfounded. “You?” he demanded of his brother. He turned back to Jouglet. “How long have you had this? Why have you never brought this to me?” he asked angrily.

  “Because it was stolen by a girl, sire,” Jouglet said quickly. “And I have not been a girl until just a few moments ago.”

  Konrad too
k a moment to collect himself, staring at the ring. Then he glanced up at Jouglet and demanded, unexpectedly, “Imogen has fled with Marcus, hasn’t she? She’s gone forever?”

  Jouglet blinked. “Yes, sire,” she said in a voice of surprise. And then added quietly, gaze averted, careful to mask her frustration, “If Your Majesty knew about their mutual regard, I wish you had told me from the start. This past fortnight would have turned out very differently.”

  Konrad smiled. “I much prefer it this way.” He turned to his brother with sudden and absolute serenity. “I think we can now reach an understanding,” he said. “I shall keep your head and Alphonse’s attached to the rest of your respective wretched bodies. In return, you shall agree to all of the following: I am not a cuckold, my court holds no den of iniquity to write home to the pope about, and it never will. You will bless my marriage bed. You will not harm a hair on Jouglet’s head. You will inform Alphonse that all the land he stole, plus an extra thousand acres, will be returned to Willem at once. In addition, inform him that as he no longer has an heir, upon his death the office of Count of Burgundy will be passed to my most deserving vassal, knight, and brother-in-law, Willem of Dole. Let us hope this news hastens his demise.” He allowed himself the smallest smile and glanced at the astonished, elated minstrel. “Efficiently done, Jouglet. If somewhat tardy.” He saluted with the signet ring. Lienor chirped with excitement as Willem stood staring with his mouth hanging open.

  Paul turned a particularly unattractive hue. He tried to rise from his knees from the cool stone floor, could not quite manage it, and didn’t try again. “As His Majesty wills it,” he said through clenched teeth. “But may I point out, Her Majesty’s innocence requires Jouglet to be a woman? And Jouglet’s claim against me requires her to be a woman? And the assurance that you will not appear to be a fool by others discovering her secret some day requires her to be a woman?”

  “I know all that, clearly she will have to be unmasked as such tomorrow— no whining, Jouglet, it’s not manly,” admonished Konrad, seeing her elation vanish. At this announcement, Willem stirred from his quietude in the corner of the chapel. “And train your nimble wit on finding an excuse to keep me from looking like an idiot for not knowing all along.”

  “I’ve unmasked evil and promoted good and my reward is to be punished with a demotion?” Jouglet cried. “I’d sooner take the banishment, Your Majesty, I meant that and I mean it still.”

  “No, Jouglet— ” Lienor began, plaintively.

  “Unhappily for you, I don’t want to banish you, you’re the best musician I have.”

  “May I also point out,” Paul said with quiet viciousness, “that she will now be a detriment to the common opinion of the royal court.”

  “Nonsense,” Konrad said. “Any woman secretly trying to improve herself with manliness should be accounted admirable— I’ve even heard your brethren say so.”

  “But now she’s known to be a woman,” Paul said, with airless smugness. “Now you have an entirely untamed female fornicator in the middle of your court. Do you want that? Is it not better to throw her out?”

  “Yes!” said Jouglet heartily.

  Konrad was taken aback. He frowned. “You may be right.” He grimaced. “Yes, an untamed woman is a problem.”

  “Then throw me out,” Jouglet said emphatically. Lienor held out a hand in protest, but Jouglet brushed it away.

  Konrad gave Jouglet a knowing smile. “No,” he decided. “We’ll just have to tame you.”

  “No,” Jouglet said, understanding.

  Konrad glanced at Willem, sardonic. “Are you man enough for the challenge?”

  “I will not be married off,” Jouglet said angrily between clenched teeth. “I have not come so far to reach a…such an ordinary fate.”

  “Marriage to you would be anything but ordinary,” Willem said wistfully from the shadows, without meaning to say it aloud. Lienor sighed with relief and sat down on the chest.

  Jouglet looked toward Willem, and he smiled the sheepish, unassuming smile that revealed so much of what she liked about him.

  She looked conflicted, but after a hesitating moment, shook her head once firmly.

  “Just a moment ago he suggested banishment over keeping you caged,” Lienor reminded her, tugging at Jouglet’s sleeve. “He would not see you caged.”

  “Marriage is a cage,” Jouglet said quickly, pulling her arm away. With a bow toward Lienor she amended, “Very pretty if you are an empress, but otherwise a cage. I know how the world works, I’ve walked among its womenfolk. At court, wives are nothing but pawns, broodmares, and decorations.”

  Willem took a step toward them, out of the shadows. “The marriage would merely be for show. In private we would just keep having…whatever it is we have now.”

  To this, Jouglet had no retort. She looked at him, mouth hanging slightly open, brows furrowed with confusion. Finally after a long moment she turned to the emperor and asked in a weak but desperate voice, “And if I refuse?”

  “Then you leave my court, but as a known woman whom I am banishing for deceit,” he answered. “In your disguise, which you confuse for an identity, you are too valuable a commodity. I must expose you for what you are.”

  Jouglet was affronted. “Sire, I would never betray this court, even as an exile!”

  “Technically you’ve betrayed it several times today alone,” Konrad corrected wryly. “But you’re missing the point, Jouglet. I don’t want you as an exile. And yet Paul is right, I cannot have some scheming female of no pedigree in my inner circle. If you were my brother’s clever wife, that would be quite another matter. Play the game, Jouglet,” he said with a small knowing smile. “You are so fond of games, and this one would last a lifetime. You know what you really are; your soul is not diminished one jot by what others call you.”

  There was a long silence, all eyes on Jouglet, who looked absolutely flummoxed.

  “You may continue your eccentric dress until you are a countess,” he offered. “You may continue as my musician whenever you are here with your husband at my court. And you may serenade and banter with my wife without fear of admonition.”

  She was still flummoxed. She glanced wildly around the room as if somebody— perhaps Christ above the altar— could give her some advice. “Answer this, then,” Konrad continued. “What were your ambitions for yourself?”

  “To stay your minstrel,” she said promptly. “And his lover. And her courtly wooer.”

  Konrad made a pacifying gesture. “And you may still have all these, in some form or other. You can’t always refashion life exactly as you want it, Jouglet.”

  She maintained the broody silence, appearing to absorb this news.

  “I will sweeten the pot for you,” Konrad said. “Paul will perform the marriage rites.”

  “I will not!” his brother said hotly.

  “Of course you will.” Konrad smiled. “The villain’s ultimate redemption: to reunite two souls he put asunder many years ago. It pleases the emperor very much.”

  “Poetic justice is not going to sway me,” Jouglet said with a small anxious laugh.

  Willem reached out tentatively for Jouglet’s hand. She took in a sharp breath at his touch, but she didn’t pull away. With absolute sincerity he said, “We will be precisely as married as our priest is holy— entirely in the public eye, and not a whit beyond that.”

  Jouglet looked up at him with a surprised expression of approval. “That proposal is as honest as you are and as slippery as I am.”

  He smiled. “So how can you possibly refuse it?”

  There was a long silence.

  A very long silence.

  And then Jouglet said yes.

  Author’s Three Apologies for Purists

  For the historical purist

  The Emperor Konrad of this story did not exist. He was inspired by the fictional Emperor Konrad in Jean Renart’s thirteenth-century Roman de la Rose, who in turn is generally considered a stand-in for the actual Otto
IV, of the Welf dynasty (for the information about Otto IV, I am indebted to John Baldwin, Aristocratic Life in Medieval France). Because I have not likewise made “my” Konrad a stand-in for Otto, the politics of my story do not correspond to the politics of Otto’s reign, although they do reflect the general timbre and mentality of the age. If you try to read this story with the expectation that it is “true-to-life historical fiction,” you may get quite exasperated, just as you might if you watched West Wing expecting it to feature the true-to-life president of the United States. Please don’t do that. Just read it and enjoy it. It’s a story.

  For the geographical purist

  The start of the name “Sudaustat” is homonymic to pseudo, and that is not a coincidence; those who know the region may recognize it as an unholy union of Sélestat (whose medieval shape it vaguely resembles) and St. Hippolyte (whose site it vaguely inhabits).

  On a broader geographical scale, the history of Burgundy is tragic, vast, and complicated. At the time of this story, there were two (physically abutting but politically distinct) regions both referring to themselves as Burgundy: one an independent duchy to the west of the Saône, the other a more variously defined area to the east, which in the late twelfth century had become part of the Holy (Roman) Empire. The first of these, the former duchy Burgundy, is equivalent to modern-day Burgundy; the former county/kingdom Burgundy, wherein lies Dole and Oricourt, corresponds to the area around modern Franche-Comté. For ease of narrative, I have simplified the history and terminology by referring to the more eastern county/kingdom as Burgundy and the more western duchy (aligned with France) as Bourgogne.

  For the linguistic purist