Barry Unsworth - The Ruby In Her Navel

I was roused from this half-dreaming state by being asked my opinion as to the merits and defects of the excrement of the two animals. The huntsmen had brought specimens of these fumées, as they were called, and we gathered wisely round a table to compare them. This also requires a great deal of study, the points of comparison being in the thickness of the turd, its length, and the hardness of its consistency. The palm was finally awarded, the defeated huntsman took himself disconsolately off and the victor was told to have his lymers ready for the next day.

After this I set off again to look for Alicia, but did not find her, and supposed she would be resting; she would not venture much into this hot sun of afternoon. I thought of her fairness, the pale brows: she had taken care to keep her face from burning in Jerusalem, and so she would do here.

I found my own chamber very sweetly smelling when I returned to it; in my absence they had come and strewn the floor with dried mint, and I think other herbs mingled with it. I lay on the bed and thought of the events of the day and became drowsy as I did so, so that impressions were jumbled together and lost all order of sequence, the turning mirrors, the servitude of the brass Saracens, the false smiles of Adhemar and the sad eyes of the Abbot, the strange distortions of the shadows on the walls, Alicia waiting for me in the shade of the pavilion, the kisses we had exchanged – I seemed to feel them still on my lips. I remembered the change in her face as I tried to speak my gratitude, and how for a moment she had seemed at a loss, perhaps unsure whether she should confide in me. She had seemed afraid as she spoke of her brother and his spying. But that brief look on her face, when she had raised her fingers to my lips to prevent me from speaking, that had been more like distress than fear. Pale hands, pale as ivory… some words that might be the beginning of a song came to my mind.

Her honour and her good shall be my care.

I am her liege-man and her lover.

Wherever I may be…

Her liege-man and her lover, her lover and her liege-man. Which had the best fall? The first was more lyrical, the second had more weight on the end syllable… Before this problem could be solved I drifted into sleep and lay lost to the world while the sun waned and sank and the evening came and the light softened. There were already the first grainings of dark in the air when I descended, and I saw that fires were already burning on the farther shore of the lake.

These fires it was possible to reach in one of two ways, I was informed by the chamberlain, who seemed to be permanently stationed in the hall below: I could leave the island by means of the causeway, then make my way on foot round the edge of the lake until reaching the fires; or, if preferred, there were little pleasure-boats, I could paddle across. I said I would prefer the latter, and a gardener's boy was summoned to show me where the boats were. Only three now remained, moored at a little landing-stage, though this sometimes stretched away and the boats were multiplied, according to the swing of the mirrors, invisible from here, the sunlight no longer betraying their presence. If one lived long on this island, I thought, one would lose for ever the capacity to trust in anything, even in one's own senses. Or perhaps one would simply become wary as to where he set his foot. There were zones that were free from these bewildering reflections, like the gardens surrounding the pavilion and the pavilion itself, but it was not possible to know where the borders were. One step farther and the world stretched and yawned and the distinction between the one and the many was lost.

The paddle-boats were built for calm water, with gilded prows and cushioned seats. They were small, yes, but quite big enough for two, and it was now that a certain idea came to me: if I could make myself master of one of these boats and prevent it from being taken by anyone else, it might provide the means of having Alicia to myself for a while, and defeating Adhemar's vigilance.

With this thought in mind, I did not paddle my boat directly to the mooring posts on the opposite shore, but tied it to a waterside tree at some distance away, then scrambled ashore and made my way on foot through the trees to where the fires were burning and the people were gathering. Tables had been set up and there was a smell of roasting meat. I took a place, and bread was brought to me, and soon after a cut from the breast of a duck was brought on a dish, and this was very tender and good, the bird had been well chosen and turned long on the spit. The wine-cup came round to me, made of silver and very deep in the bowl so that it was heavy and had to be raised with both hands. I drank and passed the cup to my neighbour, a knight I had met that morning and who had been at the Assembly. We spoke together for a while about the clearness of the night weather, the promising starlight, and the prospects for the hunt next day. As we were speaking a minstrel came forward and sat facing us with the firelight on his face. He struck some notes on his viele and began with a song of King Arthur, singing in French, a good strong voice and perfect in the words. My neighbour told me that this was Renart the Jongleur, the famous singer who travelled and performed in many places and was welcomed in the houses of the great, and could sing in Breton and Provencal and Latin with equal ease.

He had been brought here by our host for this occasion. Now I too knew many songs and could accompany myself on the viele; I listened carefully to this singer and it seemed to me – nay, I knew it – that my own voice was the equal of his in its range and tone. "He has a good horse and a full purse," my neighbour said. "He goes from one court to another. If he complains of mean treatment he brings shame to the one he complains of, and so he is always treated well."

"Well," I said, "generosity is a virtue, however it comes about."

I was constantly looking around for a sight of Alicia but did not see her. This distraction made me a little inattentive to the young knight's words – he was younger than I, he looked no more than twenty. He was speaking of Bertrand's patronage of him and how this had advanced him and how Bertrand believed that those of Norman blood should be united, since only if they spoke with one voice would the King see their loyalty and devotion, and bring them closer to him, and send away the false counsellors that surrounded him.

I answered him as best I could – these were views I had heard before.

After a while longer, with some friendly words about our riding together next day, he quitted the table. I was rising to do the same when Abbot Alboino came and took a place on my other side, obliging me to resume my seat.

He asked about my activities of the day and listened and nodded with head inclined, in the same kindly but very serious manner I had noticed in him that morning. I did not speak of my meeting with Alicia in the pavilion and if he knew of this he gave no sign. "I was hoping to have some talk with you," he said. "As I told you this morning, my niece has spoken of you in very high terms. You were childhood friends, were you not?"

He was looking closely at me as he spoke. Once again I was struck by the sorrowing expression of his eyes. I could not tell if this was feeling in them or an accident of their setting. It was as if they testified to a life quite different from the one that was lived by his body – he had twice my years but he was robust and confident in his bearing. It came to me that he was inviting my confidence, while at the same time knowing more than his words suggested. "I was heartbroken when she left to be married," I said. "I was sixteen, no longer such a child." I took care to smile and say these words lightly, so that it could still seem an extravagance of childhood.