An Audience with the King, Paris 1081
The eight young knights entered the great hall of the King. Anxious guards approached them and demanded their swords - ever mindful of the threat of assassination by agents of England or France’s other enemies. Hermant surrendered his sword with casual disdain, eyes firmly fixed forwards.
The company came on. From all sides, courtiers and nobles watched the eight young men approaching the throne. They were too young, too bold, too many, too insignificant, too uncouth, too impertinent, too … everything. But the King had indulged them with an audience and so they came on.
As they approached the King seated on his throne, they stopped and, in unison, went down on one knee, heads bowed in deference.
The King looked down upon the knights and eyed them severely, as if trying to take their measure from their protestations.
“Arise.” he intoned and with a wave of his hand, he beckoned them to speak.
Hermant stood up boldly and took one step forward. “Your majesty, my name is Hermant Mauvoisin and these are my brother knights - Simon de Montpierre, Gaspard de Neufville, Eloi de Montferrat, Gaetan de Rethel, Alexandre le Sueur, Loup de Gisors and Robert Bouchart. We are indebted to you for this audience.”
The King looked on, inscrutable.
“My Lord, have formed a brotherhood - sworn to fight for France and for you, in accordance with the standards of chivalry, and humbly petition for your patronage. My Lord, let me speak frankly - France is bleeding. The English occupy our lands and even dare to claim your throne. Rebel barons hold sway in the provinces of Burgundy, Acquitaine and Lorraine, leaving the true Dukes almost as exiles. Only the Duke of Bretagne resides in his province’s true capital and even then, he is cut off from the Kingdom, surrounded by English and the sea. Our people cry out for deliverance and trust to you to answer their call. We have come to serve you in this quest.”
Mauvoisin paused, wondering if he had presumed too much - painted too bleak a picture of France and caused the King to take offence.
The King frowned: “A touch melodramatic, young knight, but I am not one to refuse offers of service. Continue.”
"My Lord!" The voice of Simon de Montpierre hesitant at first grows louder with every sentence until an otherworldly shine can be seen in his eyes. "You are known to be a Fair Fighter and have upheld the virtues of Chivalry throughout your rule. You are a shining beacon of the ideals a French Knight should follow. Before we came here we all swore an Oath to uphold the virtues of Chivalry at all times. This Oath of Chivalry binds us together, binds us to you as our King!"
The King inclined his head gravely: “I have read the Oath, young Chevalier, and it is well said.”
Mauvoisin continued: “My Lord, I know we are young men of little distinction, but we aspire for great things for France and would be weapons in your hands as you fight to restore her to what she once was. At this moment, there are few of us and we bring only our personal retainers. But we are enough to form the vanguard of your army in battle. You have need of men-at-arms while Toulouse is still incapable of training companies of knights - let us fill that need. Under your command, or that of your Seneschal, we will strike the flanks of your enemies in battle and pursue them from the field. We will be the edge you need to cut through those who oppose you and pierce their defences.”
Gaspard de Neufville rose slowly to his feet and stood beside Mauvoisin. "Your majesty, do not be afraid to trust us. All of us would willingly die for such an honourable and faithful master as yourself. Grant us the little that we require, and you will have a body of faithful knights to maintain your kingdom"
The King nodded at Gaspard, preferring his plain expression of devotion to Hermant’s presumptuous circumlocutions. “As I said, I am not one to refuse offers of service. But what is it precisely that you require me to grant?”
Hermant responded: “My Lord, we require only your endorsement and that you consider us first when composing France’s armies in the field.”
The King replied: “I have heard of your Order and it seems an admirable venture. As for you being considered first when composing France’s armies, that is more a matter for the Seneschal but we are not so blessed with companies that you may fear being unemployed.”
“We are grateful for your endorsement, your Majesty." Hermant bowed and then paused, somewhat awkwardly: "If I may presume to go further - would you consider being one of the patrons of the Order?”
The King narrowed his eyes: “You have four patrons already - the Dukes. That is an achievement for so new an enterprise. Tell me this - what are the long term aims of your Order? You speak of France, but you are young men with hopefully long lives ahead of you. What are your ambitions for your Order? What would you see it become?”
Hermant replied quickly, as if this question was never far from his mind: “My Lord, we would not presume to foresee the future. Our aspiration is that one day, the Order be given an independent command - perhaps with some foot and archers - to serve you and your Seneschal. However, until that day, we desire only to ride into battle in your service.”
“You want the Order to become an independent army?! Ha! You have some nerve. Well, I asked for ambitions and so cannot claim to be disappointed. The day may come when a reliable standing army, devoted to France, may be useful to the Seneschal and to France. After all, the Seneschal cannot be in two places at once. But while the Kingdom remains as it is, I think the four Ducal armies and my own will be more than enough commands to cover our frontiers.”
The King stopped and then spoke with an air of finality. “Your Order has my endorsement, young knights. And yes, I agree to be its patron.” He laughed: “… all the better to keep an eye on your ambitions…”
The eight knights bowed and the King turned to other business, barely pausing to acknowledge their departure with a casual wave of his left hand. When the eight were out of earshot, the King muttered to his courtiers: “Young men dedicated to France and to chivalry, rather hard to say no to, really. I suppose, it could be worse. But I wonder where it will all lead? They say the road to hell … “
The King did not finish his sentence, but let the thought hang around the palace until all memory of the eight young knights had vanished.
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