Before too long they heard the bells toll for the half hour before noon and rushed back to their inn. Hurriedly, Talon changed into his best clothes and prepared himself for the visit to the Palace of Count Roger de Tranceval, the Count of Carcassonne.
There were hurried introductions as Talon met the Master of the Temple, Sir Gualhart, then they were off at a brisk walk to the palace. The Knights wore their ceremonial garb, which consisted of white tunics known as surcoats with the red cross sewn onto the left breast over a full mail suit. They both also wore a white woolen cloak with red edging and again a red cross sewn onto the top left corner. The only difference it seemed to Talon was that the Master wore the same badge of office on his cloak as had the Master of Mas-Dieu. The two men wore pointed helmets that left the face clear, and had a distinctive eastern look with a cotton cloth wrapped around the helmet's base not unlike a turban. Templar dress had changed much since the beginnings, Philip informed Talon. They were among the few allowed to carry a sword into the council chamber of the Count.
Talon wore his green tunic with a new doublet his mother had cleaned up. It was well brushed and darned, but he was self-conscious in his tight-fitting hose. He wore neither cloak nor sword but carried a dagger hanging off his belt. His old calf-length boots were scruffy to say the least although he and Anwl had tried to bone them to some kind of a sheen with some goose fat and a goose thigh Anwl had obtained from the kitchens.
After a perfunctory examination they were admitted by the guards at the gate of the huge building. It was a fortification within the city walls themselves; and once again it was the Templar uniforms that were their passports.
Talon was struck by the beauty of the stone work. Craftsmen who knew and understood stone had done magnificent work on the arches and pillars that lined the passages within the confines of the palace. Everywhere he looked there were chiseled decorations on the pillars and over the doorways. There was wealth here; it was quite unlike the castles of the Holy Land which were massive, stark, defensive fortresses. Talon realized that this was a palace that was designed for living. Thus, while it had formidable defenses; within it people enjoyed the luxuries of life.
They continued through several more arched doorways, each with its liveried guards standing in full chain mail and helmets, pikes at the guard. Soon they came to a slightly smaller door that was made of thick, well carved oak, with two men standing in front of it wearing swords. They were not ordinary guards; instead, they were knights wearing the Count’s livery—the same colors and forms that he had seen on the banner above the walls. After asking their business the one on the right opened the door and spoke quietly to someone within.
“This is the council chamber for the Count,” the Master said in an aside to Philip.
The door was opened and they were announced loudly to a gathering inside the candlelit room. It was smoky and stuffy inside, and there were many people standing around on either side of the aisle they now walked down. In the dim light he noticed crowded aisles to the sides and that there were many pillars supporting a high, wood-beamed roof from which hung in great profusion banners and flags of different colors and insignia.
The Master of the Temple strode forward with Philip just one step behind, while Talon walked two paces behind them. They had to skirt the huge fireplace where smoldering logs burned.
At the far end of the hall sat a heavyset man on an ornately carved wooden chair raised on a dais. Standing in attendance were several knights, also a richly dressed man in clerical dress comprised of an over-cloak of fine dyed red wool with Church insignia. There were several other men in rich court clothing standing nearby. They all looked very important to the bemused Talon.
On either side of the aisle were men and women in the height of fashion. Many were dressed for riding—presumably the hunt in the morning had just finished—while others wore clothes befitting an elegant party. Talon became acutely aware of how shabby his clothing was by comparison, but he did not have much time to worry about it—they were fast approaching the man seated on the throne.
There had been a low murmur of voices as they entered which hushed as they came up to the throne.
The Count was an imposing, solid-looking figure; to Talon he seemed more suited to riding a horse than sitting at a table strewn with papers. His thick forearms, presently encased in tight-fitting silk sleeves, were lying at rest on the arms of the chair. But his strong hands were holding a parchment, not a sword. Talon thought he would be able to twirl a heavy sword should he have to.
The three men halted. Talon took his cue from his uncle and went on one knee and bowed his head, then they waited.
Roger de Tranceval, Viscount of Carcassonne, Razés, Albi, Nimes, Bézier and Agde, a man of enormous power second only to the Viscount of Toulouse in this whole region, observed the three men standing in front of him in silence for a moment or two; and then he said in a deep voice, “Master Gualhart, I greet you. Who is this you have brought with you today?”
The Master of the Temple straightened. “Greetings, Sire. I have brought one of my brethren of the Temple, Sir Philip de Gilles, who has of June this year arrived back from the Holy Land. With him is his nephew, Talon, who distinguished himself against some pirates who would have taken their ship. He thwarted the attempt with great courage and aforethought.”
Talon heard a murmur on interest from those nearby who had heard the exchange.
The three of them were now standing in front of the seated Count.
“Greetings, Sir Philip, and welcome to my court. I look forward to hearing of the Holy land,” said the Count, then glanced at Talon. “Stand forward, Talon, nephew of Sir Philip, so we can see you.” Talon stepped forward in front of the Master and Sir Philip and bowed low.
“Why, he is a very young man, almost a boy,” the Count exclaimed.
“Sire, this ‘boy’ killed many of the pirates and saved me, my sergeant, and many pilgrims from certain death or enslavement by his quick thinking,” Philip stated. “He is well able to take care of himself and others with him.”
The Count looked interested. “You shall have to recount the tale to me later today, Sir Philip. Is he yet a knight?”
“No, Sire, he is not. Although it is within the purveyance of the Master of the Temple to knight him, we have brought him to you for that honor. I stand before you to testify that Talon De Gilles, son of Hughes de Gilles, has distinguished himself in battle satisfactorily and shown leadership in combat. I am here to petition you, my Lord, to knight him and to accept his fealty to you as his father owes it to you today.”
It was a long speech for Philip and left a stunned Talon rooted to the ground, staring up at the Count, who regarded his surprise with amused eyes.
The Count smiled but then turned to the Master of Templars. “Do you concur with Sir Philip, Master Gualhart?”
“I do, my Lord,” the Templar Master rumbled.
The Count stood up, “Bring me my sword.” he ordered. When it was in his hand, he said, “Kneel, Talon de Gilles.”
Talon crashed to his knees.
“Do you, Talon de Gilles, swear fealty to me on your father’s honor and that of your high-ranking sponsors, Master of the Templars Sir Gualhart and Sir Philip de Gilles? Do you swear to be my vassal and to protect my lands from all my enemies even to the loss of your own life?”
“My Lord, I do,” Talon croaked as he gazed up at the Count’s stern visage.
The Count placed his hand on Talon’s shoulder and held the pommel of his sword in front of his face. “Give the kiss of fealty to my sword.”
Talon leaned forward and kissed the hilt of the sword. As he pulled away he received a buffet along the side of his head that made his ears ring.
“Let this be the last blow you receive unanswered, Sir Talon.
“Then rise, Sir Talon de Gilles, Knight of Carcassonne and liege knight to my name.”
Talon stood shakily to his feet and looked straight into the gray eyes of the man
who stood before him. He saw a smile on the scarred face as that man assessed him from up close.
“Yes,” he mused, “you might be young, but I sense that you are indeed a fighter, Sir Talon. You have that look,” the Count murmured below the sudden noise of the crowded floor as he embraced him.
“I am honored, Sire, deeply honored,” Talon said. He took a step back to join the other two men.
“I expect to be given a detailed report of how you left events in the Holy Land at supper tonight,” the Count said to Sir Philip. “Again I bid you welcome and invite you to the festivities this evening.” He turned to one of the men standing near his shoulder. “My son, take the young Sir Talon and entertain him this afternoon. Show him our palace and introduce him to your friends.”
Talon bowed again to the Count. He turned to his uncle, who was beaming hugely at him. He grinned and reached out to grip his uncle’s arm. “You are full of surprises, Uncle. Thank you, and also you, sir. I am deeply in your debt.” He addressed the Master of the Temple with a deep bow who gave a short bow in response and smiled.
“Your uncle thinks very highly of you, lad,” he said quietly. “We hope one day to have you as a Templar.”
Talon turned, aware that someone was just behind him. He saw that the son of the Count was the young man he had locked eyes with at the fair in Albi. The recognition was mutual.
Then rose the riot and the din,
Above, beneath, without, within.
For, from the lofty balcony,
Rung trumpet, shalm, and psaltery:
Their clanging bowls old warriors quaff'd
Loudly they spoke, and loudly laugh'd;
Whisper'd young knights, in tone more mild,
To ladies fair, and ladies smil'd.
- Sir Walter Scott
Chapter 13
Recognition
“We meet again, Sir Talon,” the young man drawled, but he smiled as he said it.
“Indeed, Sire. Well met,” Talon said. He bowed respectfully.
“You may call me Roger, Talon. I like it that way. Come, we should leave the Templars to talk to father; it will be about money, I am sure.”
Talon bowed respectfully to the Count, but he was deep in conversation with the Master of the Temple with Philip with several of his advisers in attendance. He did not notice them leaving.
Roger walked Talon down the aisle between the company of lords and knights who called to him, asking him to tarry and introduce the new knight, but he waved everyone off with a smile.
“I want to hear all about the battle where you distinguished yourself so well and also to introduce you to my circle of friends,” he said as they left the noise of the hall behind.
They went by way of numerous corridors and passages, manned by men-at-arms with liveried servants hurrying hither and thither while they strolled along.
Roger questioned Talon closely on the action with the pirates. The young man at his side applauded his plan to use pitch; Roger was delighted with the story.
They came to a medium-sized garden with large, well-tended hedges and lawns. There was a small fountain in the middle that Roger pointed to with pride. “We took the idea from the Moors in Spain. They seem to know how to make good gardens and they know how to make this kind of ‘fountain,’” he said proudly.
Talon looked at the fountain and stopped still, memories threatening to flood him with desolation... but he had no time to reflect. A group of other young people came running out of the doorway they had just exited and rushed toward them.
“Roger!” one of the two young men called out. “We saw you leave and then we lost you. Introduce us, m’Lord.” They ran breathlessly up to the two standing on the path.
“Why, this is Sir Talon de Gilles, one and all, newly knighted by my father,” Roger exclaimed. “Sir Talon, this is Lord Andreu de Béziers, whose father’s lands are within the Duchy. He is one of my cousins. Then there is Lady Elena, his sister.” Roger was exaggerating their titles, an impish smile on his lips. Talon decided that he liked the young Count.
Talon bowed to both the newcomers, aware that the girl was watching him curiously with wide, gray eyes.
Roger went on to introduce the other three as Lord Donate de Baucaire, Lady Galiana de Castres, who was visiting the Count with her father—a baron who held Nimes for the Viscount—and Lady Sybille de Foix, also on a protracted visit with her parents.
They were all of an age with the young Count, which was the same as Talon. All were well dressed in the height of fashion, eager and full of interest in the newcomer in their midst. He was forced again to describe the battle with the pirates to which they listened with excitement. They were unabashedly glad that the pirates had perished the way they had, exclaiming on his strategy, and asking more about the Welsh archers he mentioned in his report.
“You've lived all your life in the Holy Land, Talon? Tell us more of that land. We know almost nothing of it and who's doing what at any time,” Elena asked.
Talon hesitated. “It's true I lived there all my life, my Lady. But I can't tell you much of what happened in the Holy Land for the last five years... as I was not there,” he finally said, reluctantly.
There was a stir among them. “Then if you were not in the Holy Land, where were you?” Roger asked, obviously intrigued.
“I was captured by the Ismaili, who are known also as the Saracen, and taken to Persia.”
There was an audible gasp.
“How then did you escape and come to be here now?” Donate asked skeptically. “We hear of terrible things they do to their prisoners and none seem to come back when taken. We hear that they eat babies and rape and pillage wherever they strike.”
Talon laughed at this. “I think that they do as we do when they've taken a stronghold, they take booty and the spoils of war. It's a very long story; are you sure you want to hear it?” he asked. He was reluctant to tell his tale but it seemed too late now.
“Sir Talon,” Roger said as pompously as he could, “you whet our appetites and then would deny us the sustenance? Shame on you, sir! We want to know all.” He laughed. The others agreed loudly. They all looked for a place to sit and Roger sent Andreu off to find a servant to bring them wine and sweetmeats.
“We cannot have a story without wine,” he said to approving grins from the others. While the others chattered, Talon had time to observe the fine clothes these young nobles wore and to compare it to those of his family in Albi. The young maidens wore the bliaut, long dresses of many shades and colors. Elena had bands of elaborate embroidery at the high neck and the very wide sleeves that almost trailed on the ground when she let her arms down. The ladies’ dresses were made of fine imported fabrics instead of plain cloth; Elena’s was of creamy satin, sewn with pearls down the front which set off her slim figure and light features very well. He could see that the bliaut, worn over a chemise and laced tight, showed off every curve of the young noblewomen. Elena wore a gironee or separate skirt, and her companions wore full-length bliauts, which fell to the floor in many folds, and again of expensive material, silk or satin. They all wore a belt, the ceinture, but again these were woven with silver or gold thread. Peeping out beneath the dresses were silk sollars—slippers—with pointed toes but nowhere near as long as those of the men folk.
Although the maidens all wore a guimple or head veil of fine almost translucent material, it was much more casual than the average person he had seen in the town, and revealed their hair. Being noble maidens almost all had a band of silver or gold holding the guimple in place on their hair—which was in Elena’s case tressed—and fell down to their waists. Again Talon was struck by the elegance of their dress, but there was little in the way of jewelry on their persons except Elena who wore a broach.
The young nobles were no less elegantly dressed in tight hose that was of expensive silk or very high-grade English wool, with an over tunic of fine material with fur at the sleeves that were distinctly tighter than those of the maidens. T
hey all wore a cloak of brightly colored wool with ermine edging held in place by silver chains, or richly decorated leather with gold clasps. Their hair was cut more or less like his, straight across the front and long at the back. They sported richly decorated belts from which hung small purses and the inevitable dagger in a jeweled or silver scabbard.
Andreu hurried back with a servant and several glazed jugs of wine which were poured into leather mugs for the people seated all around Talon.
Talon told the story as simply as he could, the capture, the awful journey to Persia, the horror of the frequent executions, the training for the boys, and then the fight with the lion.
They exclaimed at this last, excited by his tale, but one of the girls reached to point at the long scar on his jaw. “Was that one of the scars put there by the lion?” she asked. She seemed excited by the idea of the fight with such a dangerous animal. ”How big is this animal? Is it as large as a horse? Does it look like the heraldic paintings of it?” she demanded to know.
“There are lions in Palestine and in the mountains of Persia and they are about as big as a pony, but with shorter, stronger legs and huge claws on their paws. They are very fierce and they eat goats and kill men if they are not wary,” Talon said, smiling.
“For a boy the age you were when you met the lion that is huge! Were you not a little frightened of the beast, Talon?” Roger asked.
“Roger, I was so scared I nearly drowned with terror. The animal landed on me after it had killed itself on my spear and carried me under the water.”
The others laughed merrily at this description.
“I doff my hat to you, Talon. You do not embellish but tell it as it was. For that you have my respect,” Roger stated, still laughing.
“We have bears and wolves in our forests and wild boar, but no lions,” Donate said.
“There are still dragons in the depths of the high mountains far, far to the east, are there not?” Lady Galiana asked innocently.
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