~Roland ✧ Chapter II~
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Quietly sit I in this private, sequestered corner of the large garden, enclosed within a copse of fine birches and roses red. Such a mixed concoction of emotions doth this place stir within me: at once, a deep unease, as it was this place where, long ago, I committed my great transgression, my grievous sin…and yet, regardless, a soft fondness do I still feel for it. Its modest nature, the aromatic flowers whose colors gleam so softly under the moonlight—no wonder this place turned me into a lovestruck fool. All that I hope is, now, I may be left alone, and that she shall not return here…
For some time I gaze upon the moon above, nestled within a blanket of clouds, praying to calm my mind from this most eventful of days. Ah, how melancholic it is, the way the common folk speak of the moon—it, too, gently reflects Our Lady’s light, as should we all… Why should they imagine it not merely a woman, but an unfaithful wrench who would thus abandon her duties for lust, no less? Why do they weave such wretched tales about that which is so beautiful?
There is one like that here—yet, it is surely not the moon…
I sigh, clasping mine hands within my lap. Perhaps I should soon be away from this place before His Majesty findeth me, and thus presume I have returned to my former ways…
As the thought doth come to me, no sooner the sound of soft footsteps resounds from the nearby path. Despite mine own good sense, I cannot refrain from quietly gasping—and thus do the footsteps cease, then turn my way. I bite my lip in trepidation, when—
“Ah—prêzjêne bon!” a familiar voice quietly calleth to me, the voice of an elderly man from across the sea. “A most unexpected acquaintance!”
“…I would say,” I grumble more coarsely than I would typically allow myself. Yet, I wish for peace from this lively day—and, if our previous meaning indicates anything, it is that this man will surely bring me anything but peace…
“Forgive me, Brother—would you prefer solitude?”
I ponder for a moment.
“You may join if you like; yet, please, disturb not the tranquility of this place.”
“No, never,” he replieth with a gentle chuckle. “I too desire respite.”
“Is that so?” I ask as he sitteth beside myself upon the stone bench. “Please, take this not with offense, yet—you appear so spirited, I find this surprising…”
At this, the man—Etsuo, I believe—once more laugheth, in such a manner strangely reminiscent of a songbird.
“Perhaps it is most unwise to disclose this, and yet…ah, I am afraid it is much a façade, Brother…”
“…That frankness you had shown was but a farce?”
“No, not quite,” he grins, but a hint of sorrow shroudeth him. “Yes, I am most grateful to be here: I have wished to visit this land for all of my days, and long abandoned the thought that I may be blessed to…
“But…already doth the longing for mine homeland, my kin, weigh heavily upon me; indeed, my duties, which under ordinary circumstances are scarcely a burden—already I feel I may snap as a twig…
“My, forgive me, Brother,” he saith with a sigh, and covers his face with his hands. “I said I would disturb not your tranquility, yet here I am, doing precisely this. I will be silent—”
“No, you need not,” I reflexively reply, unable to contain the pity which swiftly has sprouted within my chest. Perhaps it is a mere miscalculation—I know him not, truly, after all…yet, an air of innocence does cling to him, and I can help not but find myself drawn to it. The sinful drawn to the sinless… I almost pray this impression is false, for surely I deserve not such a friend.
“Perhaps we may make conversation, to divert your mind from its troubles,” I say. At this, he gazeth to me, his earthen eyes glistening under the light of the moon. “Do tell me, if you wish—how did you come to learn of our land, our tongue? Why had you wished to come? You speak more eloquently than many of your peers.”
“Ah, that was my grandfather!” he replieth softly, yet with much enthusiasm. “He was a merchant, who especially dealt with those sailors from this land. As a youth, always did they surround me—so fascinated was I by those strange people and objects—”
“Your grandfather was a merchant? Are you not a true chronicler, then?” I ask, somewhat taken aback. If he is not noble, then why would one of his position be—
“Ah…your people still hold to the old ways, yes?”
He speaketh this in such a natural manner, yet…
“Brother,” he goeth on, “Know you not the origin of our two kingdoms?”
“Of course I do,” I scoff, though I pray my tone is not too impertinent. “What of it?”
“Why, look at the tale,” says he. “Our kingdoms were one once, until a pair of twins were born—a son and a daughter. The elder, the son, was to inherit the kingdom—”
“Until he lost his birthright,” I interject. “His father felt him unfit for his station, and his sister was thus graced with the crown…
“And when civil war did erupt, and tear their kingdom apart, his sister was allowed to keep that which she had been given, and Our Lady led him to these very lands—this very city—to rule however he pleased.”
“Yes—and this is how we live even now,” Etsuo says. “We must earn our title through trials and tests; even our sovereign chooseth their heir, whomever of their blood is most suitable.”
I furrow my brow and gaze to the side in quiet contemplation. “So blood scarcely mattereth in your lands?”
“Oh, it certainly does—perhaps more,” he laugheth softly. “In a sense, I was blessed, perhaps, raising my family’s station to something notable, something worthy of a title—I envy not my peers who could not rise to their previous heights, forever bringing shame upon their name…
“Perhaps you, too, are blessed,” he continues on, glancing to me with a winsome smile. “It appeareth that in these lands, it is perhaps simpler to remain in good graces—”
I can help not but interrupt him with a snort. “Aye, perhaps we need not take a particular test or some such thing—but one can certainly lose their station still. Thus why I am here now.”
“Hmm…” he hums, placing his hands within his lap, “If it is not impertinent to question—how did you come here, then? Do you not wish to be a monk?”
“No…that was always my desire,” I say quietly, glancing down, “But it was my fate to be a knight, as was my father, and his before him…”
“You were the eldest son,” Etsuo interjects.
“No…but I was the last son, the only one to continue his legacy. And so I did, until I was allowed no longer…
“Forgive me, Etsuo,” I hoarsely mutter. “It is a painful tale, and I…wish not to sever your goodwill so soon.”
“My,” he speaketh after a moment, “You believe it so dire?”
“Yes—I suppose that alone doth damn me already…” I sigh, closing mine eyes.
“Well, perhaps this is unseemly to request of you, yet—I would wish to know the true nature of the one with whom I shall hereafter spend so much time with…”
“Then…I suppose I shall relate it to you.”
As I say this, a terrific pounding resounds in my chest, beating with the ferocity of a prisoner in his cell on the eve of his execution. It is unimportant, truly—this man is a mere acquaintance, from nearly the end of the earth. I suppose his opinion of me mattereth not. And yet…
“It is said that a knight must bear many virtues: fidelity, integrity, charity, piety…but this is all rubbish. Only a single virtue must a knight hold, and this must penetrate to the very ground of his being: hardness.
“The hardness of one’s blade, and the armor which adorneth his person; the hardness of his body, the muscles and bones which must grow strong, unbending like a pillar of stone—but, most of all, it is his heart, and the shining Star of his soul—that is what he must truly make hard…should he not, he shall shatter like glass.
“Already is this an unsavory state of affairs, which leadeth one to act in a manner which is…unrighteous,” I nearly whisper. “When one’s heart groweth too hard, he may commit all manner of atrocities. Yet, ever more tragic still…many a knight, regardless, still longeth for gentleness, softness, tenderness, that which maketh us…human.”
I pause, noticing the tragic irony within my statement. Still, I continue.
“Thus, it is common for a knight to seek love; yet, in his desperation, he may do so in a way which is…sinful. Not merely the love of family, of fellowship—but also a ’love’ ensnared in lust… Many a knight doth turn his gaze to his lady—that is, the wife of his lord, whom he also serveth…”
“Aye, I have read such tales before—the knight eternally devoted to his beloved, whom he may never hold within his grasp…”
“Indeed,” I sigh. “These are meant as mere tales; or, at least, such a love—as much as it may be given such a noble title—is never intended to be consummate…”
“Then I take it you broke this custom?”
I merely nod to him, too ashamed to speak it aloud.
“With whom, if I may be so curious?”
Subtly I look to him once more; to my true astonishment, his face showeth not anger, nor disgust, nor any emotion appropriate for a confession such as this. Rather, it doth almost seem that he to gazeth upon me…mercifully.
“Who else? It was…Her Majesty, the queen.”
At this confession, his eyes grow large; yet, still and silent is he.
“To my young, foolish eyes, she had appeared as an angel, sent from Our Lady, bearing the blessings of the Sun… After some time had she began to plead to me, crying of her most woeful circumstance—she loved not the king, bound to him against her will; though his disposition was not unreasonable, cruel…she held no fondness in her heart for him, and this caused her great anguish. It was never her desire to be queen, yet duty demanded it.
“Thus, I believed, I was committing no sin—no…this is a lie. I had wisdom enough to know true Virtue…but lacked the will to follow her, to love her more than my mistress. I shunned that most beautiful angel, and thus gleefully proceeded down a path most wicked, to my damnation…”
“How did this lead you to your present station, Brother?”
“My boldness was…most incredible. His Majesty found us within his own bed, when we had believed him to be on pilgrimage to a remote part of our kingdom.”
At this, Etsuo doth gasp, and mine heart sinketh as a lightning-struck ship…
“The sole reason I yet live to tell you this sordid tale is due to the inconceivable mercy of Our Lady, who took pity due to my great piety—despite the distinct absence of virtue within my soul…
“Thus, after many a decade, my boyhood wish was granted; yet, now it was born not merely out of devotion…now, my service is not my pride, but my penance.”
“…I see,” Etsuo saith gravely. “I am sorry this did happen…”
Swiftly I turn mine eyes to him, somewhat aghast, my mind most puzzled.
“Whatever for? It is mine own transgressions which have brought me here—all my misfortune is of mine own design.
“Do you feel not disgust nor contempt?”
A look of great sorrow doth grace his face. “Would you wish I do?”
“No, yet—”
“Well,” he interrupts, “It is most apparent that you have thus grown from the affair, and appear to have quite genuine remorse; therefore, I see not a reason to judge you. That man appeareth not to be the same which I behold now before me.”
“My,” I sigh, and run my rough hands through the thin, long strands of mine hair. “What a queer creature you are…despite your great age, you appear not to have any sins which thus blight your soul, weighing and dragging it like lead…”
“What pleasant praises,” he doth chuckle, each one now steadily melting the frigidness of mine heart with its warmth. “Yet I am not so pure nor virtuous; I, too, have my faults, as any other.”
“Would it be improper to inquire upon this?”
“Well…” he muttereth, brows furrowing as if deep in thought, “Occasionally do I grow cross with others, and give them not the mercy of which they are deserving; I can grow inattentive and slothful, and thus fulfill not my duties to their proper standards—”
At this, I can help not but boisterously laugh, and he looketh upon me with much alarm, assuredly expecting not such a display from myself.
“Why do you laugh so?”
“Your denial only showeth the truth of my words—you appear to believe the shortcomings inherent to mankind are notable faults.”
“Would you say not that we should strive for betterment?”
“Yes, we should—yet, surely few would particularly hold such common blunders against you.”
“Hmm…” he doth hum, and then gazeth up to the moon above. “There is one thing which eateth at me; all say that it is noble, but within mine own heart, I am most uncertain…”
“What is it?”
“That I am here at all,” he sighs, closing his eyes. “Always have I wished to come to these lands, yes—and, too, doth everyone say it is a most marvelous, wondrous honor—”
“What is the issue with this?” I now chuckle, “How is it selfish to embark on such an arduous journey, all for the betterment of your lord and countrymen? To record their history, so that their memory may live into eternity?”
“Yes, but my family…” he whispereth, “I have abandoned them; and, with mine age, and the length of this journey—I may never again see their faces…”
“Have you none to administer your household? No wife, nor—”
“I do have people…my wife, no, she left this world long ago, and never had I interest in another—yet my eldest son looketh after it in my stead…
“Administration, mundanities, these are not what concern me, Brother, for anyone may do these things. But a father, a grandfather, and soon—or, perhaps already, beyond—it is a station now left barren.”
“From the way you speak, I take that none of your children are youths.”
“No longer, no.”
“Then what is the issue…?”
Etsuo doth chuckle at this, yet it is gravely mirthless—and I do believe I see a hint of tears form within his eyes…
“From your manner, and your tale—you have not kin, do you?”
Though I understand not why, with the almost accusatory tone he speaketh, suddenly quite guilty do I feel…
“No—my duty hath been to my sovereign and Lady alone…at least, that was the intention.”
“Yes,” he frowneth. “Never have I been a man of war, such as yourself, so—I suppose I have fostered not that ’hardness’ which you say so afflicteth knights…
“If we are speaking of duty alone, it is no question that this is the right action. Yet, it is not mere duty—or perhaps, it is some more nebulous, higher duty…
“I love my family true, more than my duties, more than myself—more than any devotion to anyone else… And it is this duty that thus includeth companionship, guidance; especially now, with all the years I have accrued in my life, and the wisdom which cometh with it…
“Especially now,” his voice wavereth most distressingly, “You know, when I had begun this journey—I had discovered my eldest granddaughter, perhaps sweeter and kinder than any other, was with child. For as long as I remain here, I shall know not whether they are well, whether she is well. Will she perish, just as my wife had so long ago, and I shall know not until long after it has transpired? And I have thus abandoned her, her child, and her mother, and—”
“Calm,” I mutter, brazenly placing mine hand upon his leg—yet he recoileth not at the gesture. “Tarry yourself not with worry; there is no need before you know. It shall do naught to change the outcome.”
“Yes…you are correct,” he sigheth with a shudder. “I simply wish it were so simple a thing as ’need’ which so stirreth these emotions.”
“Well…for the present moment, let us merely focus upon our duty, and leave no time for the beasts of worry to burrow too deeply.
“And…” I begin, yet hesitate at mine own words; it is rare that I extend such kindness as this—a poor reflection of my character, perhaps, but… “If the worry doth overtake you, and you find your duties dull not your mind, pull it not to tranquility—you may always come to me.”
“Truly?”
“Yes. I am certain we shall soon spend many a day together. And I am a servant of Our Lady: if I should be a vessel for her, to remind you of her light—that would be quite an honor indeed.”
At this, Etsuo doth grin widely; even through the dark, his eyes seem to glimmer, as the shimmering Star of his soul…
“Many thanks, Brother…you are truly a blessed man,” he saith with such reverence—how may he say this, while he knoweth my sin? I understand not…yet it would be a grave falsehood to say it is not most comforting.
“And…do forgive my forwardness, I know this is unbecoming—yet…you may call me Sushun, if you wish.”
“What is this?”
“Ah, well, you see…” he thus putteth his finger upon his chin, in quick contemplation, “Here, your people use titles alone to show your station, yet your name proper doth remain stationary, yes? If one calls you not ’Brother’, or some such other thing, you simply are ’Roland’—that is correct?”
“Yes…what other name might I have?”
“Well, in Folwêšiâ, our custom is different…” he saith, returning his hands to his lap. “We are given a name at birth, and another as we grow into manhood. It is this latter name which we use with others—for myself, this is Etsuo… Our first name is used only for those who have earned our trust.”
“Like if I were to refer to you as ’thou’?”
“Precisely. I know—I know this is most unorthodox; yet, your people have different customs, and I so miss hearing mine own true name—”
“Sushun, you said?”
“Yes…”
“Well…” I gaze away from him, uncertain how to respond to his request. “Knowing now the nature of this custom, I admit, it feels quite strange to refer to you in such a familiar manner…”
“That is very well,” he sigheth, clear dejection within his voice.
“Yet,” I continue, now turning his way, “As I have thus stated—we shall spend much time together soon, and…I mind not becoming better acquainted with you, so that after a time, this name may be proper.”
“Then I may wait,” says he with his strangely sweet smile. “Thank you for your companionship, Brother…it calmeth my nerves greatly to know the people of this land are so kind-hearted.”
How did I convince him I am such a person…?
“Well,” he muttereth, slowly standing, “I am growing tired, and the moon is quite far along on her journey now—so I shall meet with you tomorrow.”
“And…” he turneth to me, and I do feel a strange skip in my chest—yes, I believe, I am far past the age where my body taketh well to remaining alert so late…
Still, the moonlight shining upon his figure, alighting his silhouette, against the trees and the flowers…it is a beautiful scene.
“Speaking of names—may I call you by your own, or is your title more preferable?”
“Either is fine, yet you may use mine own name if you wish; I do believe it is quite clear enough what I am.”
“Indeed,” he doth chuckle merrily. “Yéškâ prêzjên sâze jéitsi!”
Until we meet again.
“…Yéškâ prêzjên sâze jéitsi, Etsuo.”
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