Eifelheim - Michael Flynn [132]
The chaplain celebrated the Mass, while Dietrich and brother Joachim sang Media vita in morte sumus in choir. The choice was meet; for while the words reminded the young men that death lurked always in their chosen life, the tonalities of the fourth mode lessened the choleric yellow bile, which a warrior must ever restrain.
After the Mass came the schwertleite. Eugen and Imein placed their swords upon the altar and promised their services to God. In his homily, Father Rudolf cautioned them to imitate the knights of olden days. “In these degenerate times, knights turn against the anointed of the Lord and lay waste the patrimony of the Cross, despoil the ‘paupers of Christ,’ oppress the wretched, and satisfy their own desires with the pain of others. They dishonor their calling and replace their duty to fight with lust for booty and innocent virgins. You must demonstrate instead your honor, loyalty, justice, generosity, and especially your balance—avoiding all excesses. Honor priests, protect the poor, and punish criminals, as in days of old.”
Dietrich wondered whether the knights of olden times had been as pure and upstanding as they were now remembered. Perhaps Roland and Ruodlieb and Arthur had been men no better or worse than Manfred—or von Falkenstein. And yet, was it not a good thing to seek the ideal, regardless how poorly it may have been practiced, to imitate the ideal Roland and not the fallible man he may have been?
Father Rudolf blessed the two swords. Then Manfred dressed Eugen in a double-stitched shirt of linked mail, shoes of iron ringlets, a topfhelm with windows, and a shield bearing Eugen’s new device: a white rose crossed by a thistle. Once Imein was similarly accoutered by Thierry and both were kneeling before the altar, Manfred took up each man’s sword in turn and laid the accolade upon his shoulder. Formerly, this had been done with a hand-slap across the face, but this new French custom had lately become popular in the Germanies.
Afterward, a banquet was laid in the great hall. An ox roasted upon a spit outside the manor house, and serfs hurried in and out with great platters bearing haunches and sausages. Laid out were pepper cabbage, candied songbirds baked into pies, eggs pickled in red beets, baked ham in black vinegar sauce, grated sweet beets and carrots combined with raisins. The iced cream and sorbets were also drizzled with the black vinegar sauce. Feasting was accompanied by juggling, mimes, and song. Peter Minnesinger performed a passage from Hartman von Aue’s Erec describing the rage of his fellow knights against a count who had beaten his young wife. Dietrich wondered if Manfred had ordered the passage as a gentle reminder to his daughter’s betrothed.
The bohorts took place in the afternoon. The contenders and their ladies progressed about the field while the spectators admired their colorful surcoats and livery. Eugen was especially remarked, for he was well-liked. The villagers hooted Imein lustily when the two newly raised knights took their positions at opposite ends of the field.
Dietrich watched with Max and Hans from the stands, distant enough that the horses did not smell the Krenk. “We played a game much like this at Paris,” Dietrich remarked.
“What!” said Max. “You? At lances?”
“No, it was the game of obligations. One student was assigned to be the interlocutor and another to be the respondent. The interlocutor’s task in the debate was to trap the respondent into maintaining a contradiction. The respondent’s task was to avoid the traps. It helped us develop nimble wits.”
Max grunted. “Hah, hardly as fine a display as this!” He swept his arm around the curial grounds.
“Ach, but the Church disapproves of such displays,” Dietrich said.
Hans clacked his mandibles. “Small wonder! To risk life for sport!