CHAPTER 30: The Council
Alanna snuggled deeper into Myles' overstuffed chair and eagerly flipped the page of her book. She had enjoyed this week following Jarinth's funeral, mostly spent reading or playing chess with Myles, and however much she knew all good things had to come to an end—and usually did so quickly, for her—she wished it could go on for at least a little bit longer.
But the peace did end when Timon, Duke Gareth's servant, arrived with an urgent message for Alanna that requested her immediate presence in the King Jasson's Throne Room.
"What in the Chaos would they want with her there?" Myles demanded.
"I bring His Grace's apologies for the inconvenience of the short notice, but he begs that you come looking as decent as possible—"
"Well, what does he think, that she'll show up naked?" Myles turned to Alanna, noticed her confusion, and his hassled look softened. "The King Jasson's Throne Room is where His Majesty holds audiences with his nobles when he wants a word with them. Do you have anything extremely sophisticated and conservative to wear?"
"Umm…."
Twenty minutes later, Alanna paced anxiously behind the doors of the King Jasson's Throne Room as a maid attempted to fuss with her hair. Though she didn't look quite as elegant as her convent teachers would have hoped, she didn't look terrible, either, after jumping into a dress, dumping cosmetics on her face, and throwing up her hair. Her fashionable but modest gown provided the most reassurance, because she knew the nobles of the court would approve and maybe would forget her usual outfit of breeches.
Two guards stood on either side of the door, though they could have been statues for all they moved. The herald smoothed his sleeve and sipped from a bottle of water he kept hidden under his tunic. Myles stood beside her, trying to convince himself as much as Alanna that everything would go alright. Alanna tried to soothe herself with his words as she continued to pace.
Then, two bangs resonated from inside, and Alanna realized guards standing just inside the doors had knocked the butts of their spears on the ground to announce something. It took her a moment to realize what that something was.
"Good luck," Myles whispered as the doors swung open.
"Lady Alanna of Trebond," the herald proclaimed.
Oh guide me, Mother, Alanna prayed fervently. I have no idea what I'm doing.
She stepped inside the room and blinked at the splendor spread out before her. In a room of gold frames, a carved ceiling, and majestic portraits of past monarchs, there stretched a long glass table lined by forty no-nonsense noblemen. At the head of the table sat King Roald, decked out in the formal robes of a monarch complete with a large crown on his head. Duke Nathaniel and Duke Gareth sat on his left and Jonathan on his right.
Everyone stood when she entered, and she curtsied in acknowledgment. Then, as the doors closed behind her and shut her off from the protection of the rest of the world, she stepped forward. As one, the men sat.
"Lady Alanna of Trebond, would you swear allegiance to the royal family, to protect it against all enemies, even if there were no hope of survival?" Duke Nathaniel demanded.
Only just refraining from jumping at the sharp voice and wondering in complete bewilderment if this was a dream, she answered clearly, just as she had been taught, "Yes, Your Grace."
"Would you protect this land, the nation of Tortall, no matter the personal loss it may require?"
"Yes, Your Grace." Would someone really answer "no"?
"If you were to be given the chance to take the Ordeal of Knighthood, would you take it?"
Alanna stared at him. "Wha—?" Then, she swallowed and responded a little more coherently, "Yes…." What kind of question was that? This would completely ruin her reputation! Then again, her reputation as a lady had a gone up in smoke years ago. She answered firmly, "Yes, of course, Your Grace."
He nodded and turned to King Roald, who announced to the entire room, "As we said before, Lady Alanna has consistently, diligently, and honorably served the crown and Tortall for the past six years. She saved my son, the Prince, from the Ysandir of the Black City in the Great Southern Desert. She rescued Lady Rowanna of Disart from the cruelty of an abusive husband. She duelled the Tusaine knight, Sir Dain of Melor, to save the face of not only our knights but also that of our entire country. She rescued Lady Jarinth of Marinstha from a fatal, magically-induced illness. She freed thirteen Tortallans and two Carthakis from an illegal prison. She discovered and countered a plot of regicide. Over and over again she has demonstrated the chivalrous ways of a knight.
"Now, it is our duty as well as our pleasure to reward her for these actions. The question is how. Duke Roger of Conté has suggested that we offer her the chance to become a servant to the crown by way of the Ordeal of Knighthood. Can I have a motion to approve the proposal of allowing Lady Alanna of Trebond to take the Ordeal of Knighthood?"
Silence reigned for a moment, in which Alanna thought for sure that she was going to faint. Her mind spun horrendously as it tried to accept the existence of the meeting. They were discussing allowing her to become a knight! And what in the world was Roger doing suggesting such a thing?
"I move to approve the proposal of allowing Lady Alanna of Trebond to take the Ordeal of Knighthood." Alanna's stomach flipped when she realized these words came from none other than the famed and well-reputed Duke Nathaniel.
"Is there a second?" Roald asked.
"I second it," Duke Gareth spoke up. Alanna could have hugged him.
"The floor is open for discussion," Roald announced.
A stiff man Alanna did not recognize at all immediately jumped in. "We closed the choice of knighthood from women a century ago for a reason. They proved weak, incompetent, and distracting on the battlefield. Tortall has run smoothly ever since we made that improvement to our society. If we let Trebond become a knight, then other girls will want to too, and our society will crumble."
"I beg to differ, Baron Perrin. Knighthood was only closed to women a century ago because the current ruler, King Jonathan III, was upset with his wife, Queen Matilda, who was a knight. His argument with her was spurred by her shield, and so he announced that the queen should not be allowed to be a knight. She argued that if the king could be a knight, then why shouldn't the queen? His answer was that women in general were not fit for knighthood. A hundred-year tradition was started by a marriage feud."
"And King Jonathan was right! Women can't be wives, mothers, and knights at the same time."
"Queen Matilda had no trouble balancing her duties, Baron, just as male knights have no trouble being husbands and fathers. Their problem was that Matilda had bested her husband in a swordfight."
"A terrible problem, to be sure! Where would society be if our wives weren't trained in obedience and modesty?"
"Are you implying that if you can beat someone in a swordfight, you cannot be obedient or modest?"
"Women will not know how to be subservient to their male superiors if they know how to fight."
"How would you know? We are subservient to our male superiors because we are trained how to fight."
"Women can't fight!" Baron Perrin roared.
"Have we not been through this already?" Duke Nathaniel barked back. "Queen Matilda was in trouble because she could fight, and look at Lady Alanna! She's here because she saved your nephew, I believe, from having his head chopped off by a Tusaine knight."
Perrin froze along with the rest of the room. Apparently Nathaniel had touched a sore spot.
After a moment, another man spoke up gently, "We need our women at home, to look after our households while we are at war."
"No, you don't," Duke Gareth countered. "Many noblemen and their wives live here at court. Who is defending their households then?"
"And statistics show that raiders are more likely to attack a fief when the lord of the land is traveling," Nathaniel continued, "which we can assume means that they think the fief is defended only by the lady of the house, a weak creature. If it were made clear that women are just as capable as their husbands to defend their fiefs, then the amount of barbaric attacks may decrease."
"Plus, if women were trained in more areas than just Care for the Family and Fief by a bunch of Daughters, they would understand more," another man—Alanna excitedly noted that she had a stranger on her side—mentioned slowly. "If a woman knew what it feels like to be a warrior, then she would know what the soldiers under her command while defending a castle would be feeling, in which case she would know how to rally their support and so on."
Alanna knew that she could not expect them all to agree that women were capable knights, simply because they had all somehow experienced incompetent female warriors, or it went agaist their natures to conform to new ideas, or—a purely political reason—they had enemies that they did not want to get along with that were for female knights. But, still, she felt some men were already converting.
"But Baron Perrin was correct in saying that women are distracting on the field. Historical written works show how men made stupid mistakes to save their female coworkers. Love relationships caused trouble too, where a commander would order a woman soldier to do something, and her lover would object either because he wants to keep her safe, or he finds his dominance over her being questioned because someone else can give her orders just as easily. Or perhaps the commander is commanding his lover, in which case he puts her in a safe spot and puts someone less compotent than she in the spot where she should be. We have solved this problem by splitting the genders, with men fighting and women with families. If we were to split it the other way, with women fighting and men with the families, then we would have a terribly insecure army in that the soldiers may not be able to fight because of pregnancies. If we made a law that said our female soldiers couldn't get pregnant, then our population and therefore our economy would suffer."
"A very good point, my lord. However, it would not be our worst of problems. We could easily explain the matter to our soldiers and make it clear to them that relationships only get in the way of their training. And it's not as if there is no punishment for arguing with a commanding officer. Any couples who find their relationships more important than doing as they are told may be invited to leave. And I should hope that we have better commanders in our military than those who would put themselves and their relationships before their men. We would make it clear to them that if they find themselves tempted to make ill decisions because of people under their command, they should ask either to be reassigned or to have the women bothering them reassigned. Also, it wouldn't be hard to take your point into account when we choose our commanders. If a soldier has a history of flirting with the ladies or treating one gender more kindly than the other, then he should not be regarded as commander material."
"But why should we do this?" yet another man demanded. "Lady Alanna is one out of thousands of women in this country, and she is the only who has shown the slightest interest in fighting."
"Not to mention that we have enough warriors right now anyway. It's not like we're struggling to win a war and are in desperate need of women to fight for us," someone else chimed in.
"The question is not whether we need them or not," another stranger responded. "The question is if they should be allowed."
"Saying we shouldn't train more troops because we're not fighting is the equivalent to saying we should stop having children because the populace is big enough as is. Do you agree with that statement, Baron Carson?" Nathaniel asked pleasantly
"No, of course not" was the shocked reply.
"And the answer to your question, Lord Gregg, is simple: the women of our society have been muffled. Even if they did express a wish to fight, you probably would never have heard because their mothers and elder friends scolded them for the idea. If we start teaching our women that they are capable of fighting, then, I assure you, you would hear much more about it."
"But this is suicide! The next thing you know, women will be wanting actual power."
"And what's wrong with giving them power?"
"They don't know how to use it!"
"Have you tried teaching them?"
Silence.
"Even dogs learn what they are taught, Your Grace. To say a dog can do more than your wife may foretell difficulties in your marriage."
"To say that anyone can do anything, though, Duke Nathaniel, is asking for trouble. Soon we'll be faced with peasant revolts, because they are capable of having power too."
"That most certainly will not be accepted. Men who fight for rights instead of working to earn them do not deserve any power, whether they are capable of having it or not," Nathaniel answered sternly. When he was a met with silence, and the silence continued, he sighed. "We have sidetracked. We were discussing Lady Alanna of Trebond."
A shiver shot down Alanna's spine. Back to her.
"Lady Alanna is only seventeen years old and does not turn eighteen until next year. She would only take the Ordeal when she is eighteen, correct?"
"I assumed so." Duke Nathaniel nodded; others offered sounds of agreement.
Then silence.
Finally, "I move that we end this discussion."
"Is there a second?" King Roald asked.
"I second it."
"We will decide to end this discussion with a vote. If the majority of the present council agrees to end this discussion now, we will move on to vote on the proposal of allowing Lady Alanna of Trebond to take the Ordeal. All those in favor of adjourning, please stand."
Alanna's stomach started churning when all but two of the council immediately rose to their feet.
"Thank you. Please sit. All opposed to adjournment, please rise."
The two leftover stood. Alanna didn't recognize either of them.
"Thank you. Please sit. Our results are as follows: thirty-eight in favor, two opposed for the adjournment of this meaning. We will vote on if Lady Alanna of Trebond should be allowed to take the Ordeal. If the majority of the present council agrees to allow her to take the Ordeal, she will take it at eighteen years of age. All in favor, please rise."
Roger, Nathaniel, and Duke Gareth stood up immediately. To Alanna's surprise, Jonathan—who, she realized, had not said a word—paused, and then rose with a disgruntled expression on his face. Three other men stood up quickly too. Then, another—his face white and hands trembling—joined them. Two more followed, and then another two, and then one, and then three stood up in quick succession.
Five more, Alanna prayed. Goddess, please send five more!
It took two minutes, but, finally, five stood up.
Alanna almost fainted.
"Thank you. Please sit," King Roald asked, his face white as a sheet. "All opposed, please stand."
The remaining nineteen jumped up immediately. Two stood so vigorously that their chairs toppled backwards to clatter on the floor—servants immediately appeared out of nowhere to set them right before disappearing again—and one man even banged his fist on the table for emphasis.
The amused look on Duke Nathaniel's face—the one that chided, "No matter how much noise you make, boys, there will still only be nineteen of you, and twenty-one of us,"—was comical. Duke Gareth scrubbed at his mouth, erasing a smile. Roger simply looked smug. Jonathan was scowling.
"Thank you. Please sit." To keep his hands from trembling, Roald gripped the table with white-knuckled hands. As hard as he tried, he could not cover the shock in his voice. "Our results are as follows: twenty-one in favor, nineteen opposed. Lady Alanna of Trebond will take her Ordeal of Knighthood the Midwinter of year four thirty-seven."