The sacks were heavy now.
'Shall we return to the Street?'
'One more,' said the old man, 'and it will be worth it.'
He stopped in a quiet street, in front of a high door, above which Astruc read the inscription HOUSE OF THE REPENTANT SISTERS OF ST MARY MAGDALEN.
A very old man answered their knock.
'Jacob,' said the old Jew. 'Come to ask whether you have anyone new.'
'Discretion forbids a reply.'
He winked and closed the door. Astruc picked up the sacks and prepared to go home.
'Not yet, Astruc.'
Five minutes later, the old porter opened the door and handed Jacob a large basket. 'I want that basket back, and do not tarry too long or you'll find I've gone to paradise.'
'God bless you, I shall not tarry,' said Jacob. 'Here or in paradise, we'll meet soon.'
'If I go first, I'll put in a good word for you. And God bless you too.'
'A friend,' murmured Jacob. 'No, don't look in the basket till we get home.'
And there, in the Street, Blanchette, Lea, Astruc and Jacob sat down that evening to the Friday evening meal. The Shamas had passed earlier, blowing his ram's-horn and alternating that sad and savage sound with his cry: 'Light up! Light up! The Sabbath begins!'
Astruc, tired and dispirited, thought how he had longed for the Sabbath meal among his own people, and now that I have what I wanted, he thought, I wish I were with Marie.
'Let's open the basket now!' cried Blanchette, and they crowded round it while Blanchette exclaimed over every item, some made from silks and velvets, some encrusted with gold thread. Astruc watched, bemused.
'I'll tell you, Astruc,' said Jacob. 'It's like this. Ricau, the old porter, and I were friends many years ago when he was a groom in the stables of the Pope not this one, the one before. He is seventy-five years of age. That is why he is allowed to hold the post of porter at the House of the Sisters. He guards forty young women in that convent, all young and beautiful. They're courtesans, but ladies, not like Jeanne the palace rat, and some were very rich. They are there once they have repented of the life they led. When they first come, they are isolated so they may reflect. After eight days, and if the woman is still of the same mind, she may ask to be admitted to the sisterhood. She then hears the Mass of the Holy Ghost and speaks her vows, promising obedience, poverty and chastity.'
'Why?' asked Blanchette.
'Hush,' said her mother.
'And then,' continued Jacob, 'she is protected from the world behind an iron grille.'
'How old are you?'
'I don't know, lord.'
Fourteen, I guessed. 'Does your father love you?' I asked.
That question puzzled him. 'Love me?'
'Kjartan. He's your father, isn't he?'
'I hardly know him, lord,' Sihtric said, and that was probably true. Kjartan must have whelped a hundred pups in Dunholme.
'And your mother?' I asked.
'I loved her, lord,' Sihtric said, and he was close to tears again.
I went a pace closer to him and his sword arm faltered, but he tried to brace himself. 'On your knees, boy,' I said.
He looked defiant then. 'I would die properly,' he said in a voice made squeaky by fear.
'On your knees!' I snarled, and the tone of my voice terrified him andf he dropped to his knees and he seemed unable to move as I came towards him. He flinched when I reversed Serpent-Breath, expecting me to hit him with the heavy pommel, but then disbelief showed in his eyes as I held the sword's hilt to him. 'Clasp it.' I said, 'and say the words.' He still stared up at me, then managed to drop his shield and sword and put his hands on Serpent-Breath's hilt. I put my hands over his. 'Say the words,' I told him again.
'I will be yout man, lord,' he said, looking up at me, 'and I will serve you till death.'
'And beyond,' I said.
'And beyond, lord. I swear it.'
Two of the best epic romances written between 1150 and 1400 were Lancelot, or the Knight of the Cart, written in northern France around 1180 by Chretien de Troyes, and a work of unknown authorship called Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, written in central England around 1375. What do nthese works tell us about the world of John of Gaunt?
In each poem the hero pusues a perilous quest alone, having left behind King Arthur and his Round Table. In each there arte amorous adventures with beautiful women. Lancelot succumbs to the women's charms, but Gawain does not. There are also many military adventures from which Lancelot and Gawain emerge triumphant or at least get off by fighting to a draw. Both Lancelot and Gawain return in triumph to King Arthur's court. Running through both poems is a strain of sadomasochistic sexuality. There is pronounced psychological sexual adventurism in both poems. This, along with the military adventures, is what grabbed the attention of the contemporaries who listened to these great romantic epics.
In many ways, John of Gaunt epitomised the ideals of these stories. In some ways, he surpassed them ...
