Rouen, the Bishop’s Cathedral
The night had grown deep. The only sound was the faint whisper of wind seeping through the cracks of the windows, murmuring in Eric’s ears.
His consciousness was hazy, fatigue and sleepiness warring within him.
He was half-slumped on a pew, his head tilted slightly back. He clutched a pocket-sized Bible, open to the middle, a sign that its owner had perhaps been reading it earnestly just a few hours before.
Suddenly, just as he was about to fall asleep, Eric shot upright, his gaze sweeping toward a particular direction.
Soone had appeared in the empty Church: Sesil.
"What are you doing here? Oh, no, I an—Your Highness, Princess Sesil."
Noticing the princess’s distinct frown, Eric imdiately corrected himself, rising to his feet and giving her a slight bow.
"Hmph. I am a Nun. Why shouldn’t I be here?"
Her brow relaxed.
However, she was not wearing a nun’s habit today, but the long dress of a noblewoman.
’I don’t know how she found the courage to say such a thing in front of the Holy Image.’
"Robert sent . He said it was inconvenient for him, a Duke, to keep you company. He said you were all alone with no family, and that it was too pitiful for you to spend the night before your knighting ceremony all by yourself in the chapel. So he told to co pity you and tell your miserable self what you’re supposed to be doing."
Sesil finally stated her purpose for coming.
It was customary for friends or family to accompany and guide a squire during their vigil in the Church on the eve of their knighting ceremony.
Robert had specifically requested that Eric’s old uncle, Ambel, attend, but the old man refused to co early, stating that the agreed-upon summons date had not yet arrived.
’Eric could more or less guess the real reason: his uncle was afraid of the extra expenses that would co with arriving in Rouen early. After all, he had several sons, and this war would be their first battle. He had to invest his limited funds where they would count the most.’
’Eric didn’t bla him. After all, his grandfather’s few plots of land were, frankly, nothing special.’
"Well, thank you so much, Your Highness."
"But of course."
Sesil lifted her chin, then turned her gaze to Eric.
"Why haven’t you changed? You’re still in your Monk’s Robe."
Sesil then walked to the Holy Image, where a set of Chain Armor, a Helt, and a Longsword were laid out—the equipnt Robert had prepared for Eric.
She pointed at the items and said, "Also, you can’t sit tonight. You must spend the entire night standing or kneeling before God."
Then she slowly walked toward Eric, her arms outstretched.
"Then, at dawn, a Priest will co in to perform mass for you."
"Is it possible that I am a Priest?"
Eric raised a finger, but he stood up nonetheless.
"Is it possible that this Priest is to beco a Knight tomorrow?"
"Just like Bishop Tulin in the Song of Roland. When he was fighting the Saracens, he shouted, ’I am a Bishop, and I knight myself!’"
"I don’t like the Song of Roland. I hate all that fighting and killing. Only big oafs with nothing but brute strength enjoy that sort of thing. There are clearly better ways to solve many problems, but everyone always wants to use the most violent thod," Sesil said, her hands on her hips, her tone implying that everyone else was an idiot and only she was clever.
"Yes, there are better ways. That’s why I’m sitting here, and why I haven’t changed my clothes. None of this ans I lack Devotion to God. Conversely, those who follow all these rules do not necessarily have Devotion to God, either."
"Twisted logic. Everyone thinks that way, which is why no one takes God’s laws seriously anymore. You can stay here and pray for your own good fortune. Let’s hope God finally gets fed up and doesn’t let you see the light of dawn. I’m going back to rest."
With that, Sesil ignored Eric and walked toward the door.
A sudden gust of cold wind made her shrink her neck.
"Did you co alone?"
"How could I? I’m a princess! You faithless Cultivator."
Before her words had even faded, the Church door closed.
’Is that so.’
Eric’s gaze drifted involuntarily toward the Holy Image before him.
Ti passed quickly, and at dawn, an old man dressed as a Priest ambled in from outside, swaying on his feet. It was hard to tell if he wasn’t fully awake or was still drunk from the night before.
Eric suspected it was more likely the latter.
Behind him followed two choirs. The acolytes at the very front of each line swung censers, releasing the scent of frankincense. A fragrance like milk quickly spread through the damp, cold Church.
This Priest had a thick tongue, and his Latin was halting and clumsy. Eric couldn’t stand it. He took the Bible from the man and quickly recited the scripture over his own Sword and armor.
[O God, we beseech You to hear our prayers. We ask that You bless this sword with Your majestic hand, which Your servant wishes to be girded with, that it may protect the Church, widows, and orphans, and all Your servants from the ravages of the Heretics. May it strike terror into the hearts of the wicked, and may it serve the dual purpose of defense and battle.]
Afterward, Eric walked out of the Church and headed toward the castle.
The choirs followed close by his side. The thick-tongued Priest, now mostly sobered up, looked at a loss. He scooped up the armor, Longsword, and other items from the altar and hurried after them toward the door.
At that mont, the morning sun broke through the clouds, casting rays of light onto the street. Along the road leading to the castle, all doors and windows were shut tight. The only sound that filled the silent street was the chanting of the choirs.
"Glory to the Lord of Heaven in the highest, and on earth peace to the people He loves..."
"When the lamb awakens from the nightmare, the sword-bearer remains vigilant, for they must rember, they must always have faith in Christ, for..."
They proceeded all the way to the castle courtyard, where a magnificent banquet was already laid out. Nobles stood in attendance with their swords at their sides, and a Holy Image had also been placed in the courtyard.
Robert stood before the Holy Image. Eric walked slowly up to him and knelt on one knee.
"Now, in the presence of God, tell truly your na and your vow."
"I, Eric Outville, swear before this holy altar in the na of the Lord. I shall abide by the laws of God and the order of n, and pledge my fealty to my master, the generous and rciful Duke of Normandy, Robert. I will love whom he loves and hate whom he hates.
So long as my master upholds our covenant, treats well for my submission, and grants what I am due, then my every word and deed, my every action, shall be guided by his will, without question or defiance!"
"I, Robert, Duke of Normandy, do hereby accept your oath! May the one true God grant you Courage."
At this mont, the Priest, panting from his run, put on a final burst of speed and reached Robert’s side. Robert took the Longsword from him.
He tapped the flat of the blade on Eric’s shoulders.
Then Eric rose to his feet. Robert presented the Longsword to him, and Eric took it with both hands, fastening it to his waist.
An Attendant to the side equipped Eric with spurs, Chain Armor, and a Helt.
Robert fastened the Red Cloak on him.
From a distance, an Attendant led a horse over. Eric vaulted into the saddle, took the offered Lance, and charged toward a target that had been set up in the distance. The target was made of branches tied into the shape of a human.
The Lance, backed by powerful montum, pierced its chest in the next mont, sending it flying.
In a flash, Eric accurately and precisely struck down four consecutive targets.
Cheers erupted in the courtyard.
"Let us celebrate! A toast to this Knight, a gift from God! To the Lord, the Lord of Heaven, the King of Heaven, the almighty Holy Father! Let us now cry out, God is with us!" Robert raised his cup and shouted.
"God is with us!"
"God is with us!"
After the cheers, the solemn and silent atmosphere vanished, replaced by a revelry unique to Knights.
Eric dismounted, and Robert handed him a cup of wine.
"The Lance Soldiers and fleet from Flanders will arrive tonight. The supplies have been procured. I plan to set out the day after tomorrow."
"What? Why the hurry? Didn’t you say next week yesterday?" Eric took the cup, looking at Robert in surprise.
"News ca last night."
Robert’s expression was grim as he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his coat.
"The Earl of Hereford has been arrested. The charge is treason."
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