The Story of Silence

by Alex Myers

  Silence had to admire the chancellor’s composure for, throughout this proclamation, Merlin, in all his dirty nakedness, had been writhing about on the floor, and, managing to get the gag loose, had resumed his raucous laughter. ‘Haw! Haw!’ The knights and nobles in the front of the hall stirred restlessly, unsure of whether to be amused by the madman’s antics or vexed at his interruptions.

  The king, however, was clearly not amused. ‘I begin to think my queen is correct,’ he said. ‘It was you yourself, Merlin, who prophesied that none but a maiden would ever capture you and break the curse. How is it that you come to be in my court today, captured by Silence?’

  Merlin merely carried on with his laughing and rolling about.

  King Evan shot to his feet and yanked his sword from its scabbard. The whole hall gasped – bare steel in the king’s hall! ‘Speak your prophecy, or I will run you through,’ the king growled.

  Merlin spat out the last of the gag. He shook himself, wriggling in his bonds, which fell away from his wrists and ankles. The crowd shrieked at this sorcery. And though he was naked, and though his hair hung matted and lank, his beard a hopeless tangle, he seemed not shabby in the least, but glorious as he raised one finger with its long yellow nail and said, ‘Very well. But you must be prepared to hear the whole of it.’

  ‘Speak,’ the king said, putting away his sword and falling back into his chair.

  ‘There are two deceivers in the hall today. Guilty of similar deceptions. But you must not punish them similarly. For though the deceptions bear close resemblance to each other, yet one is a crime and the other is noble.’

  ‘Riddles and rubbish,’ the king said, his hand on the hilt of his sword. ‘Speak plainly and resolve what the chancellor put forward as the charge.’

  ‘There are two deceivers in the hall today,’ Merlin began again. ‘Is that clear enough? Your Majesty?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere.’ Merlin licked his lips. ‘First. That nun who stands beside your queen. She is most unlike all other nuns in the world. Do you know why?’

  King Evan merely scowled and gestured for Merlin to continue.

  ‘I thought not. That nun is a woman in clothing only. Beneath, she is a man. And not any man, but your queen’s true lover.’

  A hubbub arose in the great hall as knights and nobles digested this and passed it back to those who had not heard. ‘Liar!’ the queen shrieked. ‘Drunken liar!’

  ‘Quiet,’ the king roared and the chancellor banged his staff until the dais shook. At last the tumult subsided. ‘And the other deceiver?’ the king said, his voice grating like stone against stone.

  ‘Yes, the other deceiver. Recall what I said. The deception is the same, but the intent rather different. And I hope we’ll agree that intentions matter more?’

  ‘Who?’ the king said.

  ‘Silence,’ Merlin replied, ‘is most unlike all other knights in the world. For beneath that tunic and hose, he is a girl. And not any girl, but one who is noble and honest and of the highest virtue.’

  The clamour and outcry from the hall was even louder and the chancellor’s banging of his staff did nothing to quell it. Then Merlin raised his hands over his head and clapped them together once. The hall fell silent.

  ‘So you see, King Evan,’ the wizard continued, ‘Silence is completely innocent of the charges against him. In truth, the queen wished to sleep with Silence, and Silence refused her. She was angry at being spurned and sought vengeance by besmirching his name. That he is a she should only further prove his innocence in this matter.’

  ‘He is a she,’ the king said. ‘And she is a he.’ He looked at Silence, at the nun, at Merlin, at the queen, and at last, turned to his chancellor. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’

  ‘I’m not certain I do either,’ the chancellor confessed.

  ‘It’s simple,’ Merlin said. ‘Nature molded Silence to be a girl beneath these clothes. But Silence was Nurtured entirely to be a boy, a ruse by Earl Cador to preserve his inheritance. What began as a disguise is, I would say, a disguise no longer. Silence’s true nature shows forth, honest and brave and kind, no matter what clothing covers what body.’ He waited for Evan to offer a hesitant nod. ‘Quite in contrast stands the nun. By Nature, she is a man beneath these clothes. A minstrel, if I’m not mistaken, and by Nurture a man as well. This habit is lately put on to allow him greater access to the queen’s chambers … ah, you get my drift.’

  ‘Impossible,’ the king blustered. ‘A girl cannot simply put on men’s clothes and be a knight. You are a madman.’

  Merlin crossed his arms over his skinny chest.

  ‘Guards,’ the king said at last, his voice loud but not quite firm. ‘Seize him.’ He pointed to Merlin, and two burly guardsmen stepped forward, one clamping hold of each arm.

  ‘Most unnecessary,’ Merlin said, but he stood still in their grasp.

  ‘Sir Morgan and Lord Chambers,’ the king called. ‘Bring the nun forward.’

  The two knights came up from the crowded hall and pushed and prodded the nun to the front of the dais. The queen whispered something in the king’s ear, but Evan waved her away. ‘Strip her,’ he said, and in moments, the brave knights had torn away the nun’s wimple and veil, rent her dress and pulled it off, until a sheepish, red-faced man stood naked before the hall.

  ‘Do you deny it now?’ the king roared, standing and facing the queen. ‘Do you? Is this not your lover? Have you not disguised him and brought him, under my nose, into your private rooms, you lustful, deceitful …’

  ‘I beg your mercy,’ the queen said, and crumpled to the floor. ‘But I swear,’ she wailed, ‘I swear that Silence forced himself upon me … that this one he names Merlin is a liar and no true prophet …’

  The king turned his back on the queen. ‘Sir John, Lord Chancellor, bring Silence forward.’

  The chancellor’s face was grim as he approached Silence. ‘Come now,’ the man said. Sir John stepped near on the other side, and Silence brushed away their hands, walking forward to the dais. Though they could feel their limbs trembling, the flush of sweat that broke out of their palms and forehead, they kept their voice steady as they whispered to the king, ‘What Merlin said is true. I am a woman by Nature. I confess it. I am that and more.’

  ‘Anything you say must be said to the hall,’ the king bellowed. ‘Else you’ll continue in your deceptions. Speak it now, show it forth. What are you?’

  Silence.

  The ladies’ skirts rustled and swords clinked in scabbards as those watching shifted their stances.

  ‘I am,’ Silence began, ‘what you have made of me. You.’ They gestured first to the king and then swept their arm out across the hall, at the men and the women gathered there, eager, waiting. ‘I am formed by your laws, your expectations. I am honest and noble and courageous and strong. I am a knight and an earl, made so by your own hand.’ They paused, calmed themselves with a breath. ‘And. I am what Nature intended me to be. Moulded by that force, cast in my mother’s womb, brought forth into this world by loving hands. Gentle and kind and patient and quiet. A woman, in my blood and my bones.’

  The king watched, mouth agape, panting slightly. ‘How can it be?’

  Silence faced the watching crowd. The knights they had fought beside, the ladies they had sung for. Silence undid their cloak and let it ripple in a pool of green at their feet. They unbuckled their belt, unbuttoned their jacket. Felt the cool air on their skin as they pulled down their leggings, the brief moment of blindness as they lifted their shirt over their head. Revealed themselves.

  And stood, still and quiet, on the dais. Not proud. Not afraid. But naked, as they had been brought into the world. Though now shaped by that world. Both.

  ‘There, there,’ Merlin said, in a voice pitched low, ‘nakedness isn’t so bad.’ Then he raised his voice, speaking to King Evan and the entire hall. ‘For one, deception had an evil intent. Deception to seduce, to cheat, to sate the q
ueen’s lust, to cuckold you. For the other, deception was for good. Deception to allow for nobility and courage, to honour a father’s request. Now you have the truth, and the cause of justice is in your hands.’

  The hall murmured. Silence kept their gaze level, staring out over everyone’s heads. They could not bear to meet Alfred’s eyes, nor even Griselle’s. Lifting their chin in the air, they felt the glowing tension Merlin had described on the road. Magic. Present, as they never had felt present before – always something had been hidden, disguised, secret. But no longer.

  Not a breath was breathed in the hall for what felt like a hundred years.

  Then—

  ‘I condemn the queen and her lover to death. Immediately,’ the king said, with no hesitation in his voice.

  The queen let loose a wail; the false nun fainted dead away, hitting the floor with a crash. Guardsmen carried them off the dais, the queen’s wails growing fainter and fainter.

  ‘And Silence.’ Here the king turned, right hand on chest, eyes soft once more. ‘Again and again, you have shown yourself to be noble and loyal. You have served me well as a knight. But now … you can no longer be a knight to me.’ The king paused, staring at Silence, who heard these words as though from far away. ‘Before this day, no one in this court would argue with your virtue. This continues to be true. You are most perfect.’ King Evan stared at Silence, not in the eyes, but the body. Up and down and up and down again. ‘Most perfect. And most beautiful.’

  At this, Silence heard murmurings from the hall, a few shouts of approval, cries of She is! Quite beautiful! King Evan spoke again. ‘Silence: I would have you as my queen.’

  Numbly Silence remembered all the tales they had sung of maidens swooning at proposals. Suddenly the prospect made sense. Their heart beat wildly. Their head swam. Marriage? To the king? It was preposterous.

  ‘She’s overcome with gratitude,’ the chancellor said. ‘Let us make her decent and give her a moment to recover herself.’ And with that, the chancellor helped Silence off the dais and into one of the chambers alongside the great hall.

  Garments were called for, and someone helped Silence pull a shift over their head. Hands pressed them towards a wooden bench, but they resisted, looking about the chamber for Merlin, for Griselle, for some succour. ‘Wine, m’lady?’ a servant asked, offering a chalice. Silence recoiled as if burned. M’lady.

  Across the chamber, they caught sight of Alfred, unmistakable in his gaudy tabard. He’ll set this straight, Silence thought as they pushed through the milling servants and stewards. ‘Alfred,’ they called. Already he could imagine the two of them, mounting up and riding away, back to the fields of France, back to battle, the two of them cutting a swathe through … No, those days were done. But Silence could imagine the two of them quaffing wine, laughing about the whole incident. Alfred turned at Silence’s call and they locked eyes. A steady, long gaze. ‘Alfred,’ Silence said again, their voice emerging small, a whisper, easily pushed aside. Alfred’s face was set in grim lines, no hint of a smile; Silence had seen him wear such a look only when riding into battle, about to face the enemy.

  ‘Come now, m’lady,’ a servant urged, hands gently pulling at Silence, back towards the bench. They gave their arm a violent jerk and yanked free. When they looked up once more, they saw Alfred, still staring, shake his head slowly, once, side to side. And then turn away. In a moment, the crowd had swallowed him up.

  Silence stopped resisting and let the servant guide them to the bench, press a cup of wine into their hand. They might have sat there forever, stupefied, unwilling to believe that Alfred wasn’t – even now – preparing two horses to carry them away from this insanity, had Griselle, the seneschal in tow, not bustled in, pushing her way through to Silence. ‘Oh, my dear, my dear.’ She enveloped Silence in a hug. ‘To be the queen …’ she breathed, a dreaminess in her voice that made Silence go rigid.

  ‘Griselle,’ they whispered. ‘I cannot …’

  She kissed Silence’s hair and put her lips against their ear and Silence could feel her trembling. ‘Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous! But, my dear, you must pretend … until we think of some other way.’

  A gown arrived and Silence let Griselle put it on them. They buttoned it and stood up, gazing around the room.

  What different looks they got. So many of the men dropped their gazes immediately, though a few responded with a grin. They lifted their chin and tried to cross towards the knight – Sir Devon, was it? – who had given a most lascivious leer, the sort usually reserved for serving maids, but the chancellor held them back.

  ‘There, there, my dear. Sit down. You must be tired. If there’s anything you need, it will be sent for.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Silence said. Had the chancellor said my dear? And suggested they were tired? ‘What I need is time by myself. Or rather, time with Griselle.’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ the chancellor said and turned to the others and boomed, ‘Everybody out! The lady needs some peace.’

  The lady? In the quiet that followed, Silence reeled. ‘Queen?’ they said at last, as Griselle sat on the bench, stroking their hand. ‘What do I do? Can I say no?’

  Griselle shook her head. ‘It would be impossible. And that gown is impossible. It doesn’t suit at all.’

  Just like that. For how many years had they wandered free? Even when they’d served Hob and Giles, they could have left at any time. Even in the courts of the Count of Nevers or the king, they could have begged leave or declared that they had a quest to fulfil and they would have been released. Now, a minute of being revealed as a girl, and they could not refuse?

  ‘I’ll die,’ they croaked.

  ‘I know,’ Griselle said. ‘We’ll think of something. Let me get the seneschal in here.’ She opened the door a crack, as if expecting the horde to be waiting, pressing to get in – to Silence’s horror, she seemed to be right. Before she could call for the seneschal, though, Silence saw a hand reach around the edge of the door, the fingers gripping the wood tightly, pulling a slip of a body through that impossibly small crack. The body resumed its normal proportions: Merlin.

  ‘You’ve done me a favour, you know, setting me free. And I feel as though I’ve done you an ill turn,’ Merlin said. ‘All I did was tell the truth. It is most unbalanced, that you should have freed me and I in return have imprisoned you, as it were.’

  ‘Can you get me out of this?’ Silence said.

  Merlin shook a finger at them. ‘You know how it works. Anything that is done for you – anything that is accomplished with relative ease – isn’t worth a bean. I can see … you’ll struggle, but you’ll emerge the stronger for it. You’ll lose a great deal, but you’ll find yourself.’

  ‘But I have found myself – I am Sir Silence, the knight, and also the Silence born to my mother, a minstrel and …’

  ‘You will keep on becoming. You will be, you are, this and many other things. You can’t stop it, you know.’

  Silence didn’t know. Or they weren’t sure what they knew. They shook away Merlin’s confusing words and focused on the initial statement. ‘So what will you do to right the balance?’

  ‘I’ll simply say this. A reminder, as I’ve said it before.’ He put his lips to Silence’s ear, so that Silence could feel the tickle of whiskers as Merlin whispered. ‘You stand at the proper juncture for magic. You fit the spaces between, the nowheres, the anywheres, wherein lies possibility. If you can get yourself loose of this, think of what you could become.’ He stepped back and spoke more loudly. ‘You know, though, that this,’ he waved his hand to indicate the gown, the room, the general situation, ‘is a true part of yourself. As true as being a knight.’

  Silence opened their mouth to protest but Merlin gave them a stern look, a surprise from a man whose eyes normally crinkled with barely suppressed amusement.

  ‘You don’t know it yet.’

  ‘Know what?’ Silence asked.

  ‘Yourself. Honest as you are, you would deny that
truth.’

  ‘I’m not a girl.’

  ‘That’s not what I said,’ Merlin replied. ‘Hmmm. I do not retract what I told you. But to own that power, you must first recognize what you are. All of what you are.’

  Silence answered, ‘I hear you, wizard.’ For they knew he was right. They knew that they were, by Nature, a woman and could be, by Nature, the queen. But they knew, too, that to choose Nature over Nurture – or Nurture over Nature – would be wrong, limiting. Would make them always half, never both.

  ‘Let us live in hope of meeting again.’ He bowed once to Griselle, once to Silence, went to the closed door of the chamber, and slipped himself beneath it.

  ‘Why couldn’t he do that for me?’ Silence fumed. ‘Just get me out of here.’

  ‘Very dirty,’ Griselle said. ‘He needs a bath. What was he jabbering about?’

  ‘I think it is the first rule of prophecy. Or magic. Know thyself,’ Silence said, the words shaking them. They fumbled with the buttons of their bodice, and tore off the gown and threw aside the shift as well, naked once more. ‘Help me into my clothing, please.’

  Griselle clucked as she picked through the dresses that the chancellor had called for. ‘This one won’t fit through the hips, I’m afraid …’

  ‘My clothing, Griselle.’

  ‘Child, I’m trying to find something that won’t make you look absurd. If you’re to be queen, you must try to please the king …’

  ‘My clothing. What I wore when I arrived at this castle.’

  ‘Oh,’ Griselle said and rummaged around for the discarded leggings and tunic and jacket.