Disclaimer: The Vision of Escaflowne is owned by Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended by this not-for-profit story, although the author would like to point out that this doesn't mean that others can freely copy this text and claim it as their own!
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PART TWO: BODIES
'To'our bodies turn we then, that so
Weak men on love reveal'd may look;
Love's mysteries in souls do grow,
But yet the body is his book.'John Donne, The Ecstasy
'I don't know why I agreed to come to this tournament,' sighed Marlene. 'Really, there's nothing more dull than watching a bunch of grown men hitting one another with swords.'
'Ssh, your Uncle Nueva will hear you,' Carenza hissed. 'I think it was very kind of him to invite us. Besides, he's probably worried about you, moping about in your room all day.'
Marlene picked at a bunch of grapes on the refreshment table laid out in the royal box.
'What else is there to do?' she asked.
'Your sister seems to keep herself busy.'
'Oh, yes, Miss Bossyboots Eries, sitting in on Father's meetings with his advisers, and poking her nose into everyone else's business.'
Carenza shrugged.
'Well, she is likely to be queen one day.'
There was a frosty silence. Marlene did not like to be reminded that her betrothal to Duke Freid had disbarred her from succeeding to the throne of Asturia. Before she could come up with a response, however, Duke Nueva plumped himself down next to them. He seemed oblivious to the awkward atmosphere between his favourite niece and her companion.
'I was just talking to the Master of Ceremonies,' he said, beaming. 'Apparently Balgus has brought back a young prodigy from the eastern swamps, and today is his first public tournament.'
At that moment the trumpets rang out, and a dozen young men dressed in elaborate tourney armour and blue cloaks, with their helmets tucked under their left arms, marched out into the arena. They stopped below the royal box and bowed.
'Ah, there he is!' the duke cried. 'The lad on the end with the yellow hair.'
The young knight, who was surely no more than fifteen, gazed up at the royal box with an expression of awed anticipation. Marlene gasped.
'I know him, I'm sure of it. Do you know his name, uncle?'
'Hmm, what was it? Oh yes - Allen Schezar.'
Marlene smiled in triumph.
'I knew I knew him from somewhere! He was at that ball, when was it ?...must have been five or six years ago. You remember him, don't you, Carenza? It was the ball Father gave in honour of the Prince of Fanelia.'
'Oh, yes,' said her uncle. 'I remember the prince. Sad business, very sad. Had a name like a bird of prey or something.'
'Folken,' Carenza murmured. 'His name was Folken Lacour de Fanel.'
Marlene stood up and pulled the gauzy scarf from her hair.
'What are you doing, my dear?' her uncle asked.
'A knight has to have a lady's favour,' she replied, and crumpling the scarf into a ball she threw it at the startled young man.
It fluttered down to land at his feet. Allen blushed prettily and stooped to pick the scarf up. He hastily wrapped it about his left arm and bowed to Marlene. Then all the knights bowed again, turned smartly, and filed back to the sidelines to prepare for their bouts.
'Hmm, well, I think we manage things better in Asturia, eh? Eh? Much better to let the youngsters practice on the field first. All very well to let them onto the battlefield in a guymelef, but fighting man-to-man...'
Neither of the girls was paying him much attention. Marlene was gazing after the retreating Allen, and Carenza was lost in memories of another young man of fifteen, practising his swordplay on a misty morning four years and half a lifetime ago.
Not long afterwards, Allen was dubbed a Knight of Heaven, the highest honour that Asturian chivalry could bestow. Marlene went about in a love-struck daze, and Carenza began to worry that others besides herself would notice.
'Is not the sky the very colour of his eyes?' Marlene sighed, one rainy afternoon. They were sitting at one end of the downstairs parlour, watching the rain cascade from the balcony above and bounce off the broad leaves of a potted camellia on the terrace.
'The sky is grey, like old pewter,' Carenza pointed out.
'It looks blue to me.'
Carenza shook her head in despair.
'You keep forgetting you are betrothed to another.'
Marlene turned to look at her.
'I forget nothing. But how can I be expected to love a man I do not know? And a man nearly twice my age at that.'
'Better that than a boy of fifteen, when you are a young woman of eighteen.'
'You are one to speak of boys of fifteen, Carenza Fassa.'
Carenza swallowed. Marlene was just trying to goad her into an argument. On the other hand, she felt compelled to defend herself.
'I was barely sixteen myself at the time,' she said. 'There was but a year's difference in our ages.'
'One year or three; what does it matter?'
'What matters is that I was not betrothed to anyone else at the time.'
'And I say that I cannot love a man who is not of my choosing. Do not all the romances, all the troubadours' songs say as much? The only true, pure love is one unbounded by marriage vows.'
She smiled knowingly.
'Marlene - what are you saying?' Carenza whispered. The last thing she wanted was for the princess to shout out a confession of illicit love for half the palace to hear. Fortunately Marlene took her cue from the older girl.
'It is traditional for a knight to love his lady, is it not?' she whispered back.
'Well, yes, but...'
'And do not the oldest songs describe that love in...carnal terms?'
'Yes.' She could not deny it, she who had sung those very songs at one time.
'Then Allen will be my lover. It is fitting and proper, in the most ancient traditions of chivalry.'
'Marlene, you can't...'
The princess rounded on her, her mouth a taut line.
'You cannot tell me what to do. No-one can tell me what to do, I am sick of you all!' She ran from the room, sobbing.
'What's the matter with her?' asked Eries when she came into the parlour a few moments later.
'Oh, you know your sister,' said Carenza, 'Up one moment, down the next.'
'Well, I suppose I would be unhappy if I were betrothed to an old man.'
'The Duke of Freid is hardly an old man. I doubt he is much more than thirty. And you shouldn't gloat. Your father might marry you off to someone far worse.'
Eries smiled smugly.
'I doubt it. Father does exactly what I ask him.' She wandered over to the fireplace and ran a finger along the mantle. 'I shall marry a man of Asturia and rule by his side.'
'Do you have anyone in mind?'
'There are a few...promising candidates, yes.'
Carenza raised an eyebrow. She wasn't aware that Eries knew more than a handful of people outside the palace, and she surely wasn't contemplating marriage to any of the king's advisers, most of whom were even older than Duke Freid. Unless...some of the advisers had sons, after all.
'One of these candidates wouldn't happen to be my little brother, would it?'
'Oh, please!' Eries laughed. 'I've known Dryden since I was a child; and besides, the King of Asturia should be a man of gentle birth. Someone noble, honourable, and chivalrous...'
She paused to examine a display of miniatures that hung on a velvet ribbon next to the fireplace, and lifted up a portrait of her father. It had been painted in his youth, before he became king, and showed him wearing the regalia of a Knight of Heaven.
The identity of Eries' chief "candidate" suddenly dawned on Carenza.
'You don't mean...Allen Schezar?' she asked.
Eries turned to her, smiling.
'Who else? He is the finest knight in the land. His father was, I admit, an eccentric, but his mother came from one of the oldest familes in Asturia. He would make a perfect king.'
Carenza groaned inwardly. Not Eries too? Allen was a handsome lad and popular besides, but it took more than good looks and charm to rule a kingdom. On the other hand, with a formidable young woman like Eries behind the throne, the king need be little more than a figurehead. Poor Allen! Did he even suspect the trouble his heavenly blue eyes were getting him into?