Res Publica Christiana - 10. The Black Knight Part I

Aelfric Elias Tudor, my lord and lover, asked that I commission this secret journal for posterity to future generations. However, I believe Lord Eli desires to have Robert read these in our waning years for personal pleasure rather than posterity. My tales are those of infamy and shadowy work, not the story of gallant battles or righteous deeds, but Lord Eli and Robert find interest in them.

At the age of 22, I left my lord Elias Tudor’s side, but I never abandoned my lord in my heart or soul. I know our children and the people of England remember me as a great man through fabricated stories and actors with beautiful features, but I was not always a great man. In physical ability, I was not as strong as the triplets of Prudence, Pippen, and Peter. To my knowledge, my ability was limited through the death of others, but I could not cause their demise as my friend Puck. However, my ultimate rival and at times interest in ability was Lord Robert Dudley. He was similar to me in age, held abilities to create materials with a mere thought, and held the love of our Lord Eli through many lifetimes. As I was descended from the fair folk bloodline of western England, the revelation that Lord Robert was none other than our forefather and greatest mage, Merlin, complicated my relationship with him. As I did not have abilities of my own to compare to his, my feelings of inadequacy toward Lord Eli, the object of my devotion, grew. As I was not a strong man with mental fortitude, I accepted that I would never enjoy the pleasure of Lord Eli’s bed and body. Despite Lord Eli appreciating my obedience and submissive qualities, like other male and female lovers in the past, I would be discarded as the orphan child of a former royal retainer. Beyond my expectations, Lord Eli had asked Robert to copulate with me. I had never engaged in such things, but I knew that ancient peoples had such interactions, especially the Greek followers of Dionysus. By doing this, I found another person I can consider a lover and companion equal to my devoted lord.

As time passed, Lord Eli rose to power, becoming the supreme Duke of western England through battle and industry. My lord had asked that I study individuals who specialize in military tactics, mathematics, swordsmanship, and martial arts. In particular, he asked me to study a foreigner named Momochi Seiemon, I had no understanding of the language within those memories, but I copied the physical training and motions, including the throwing of daggers and silent barefoot attack style. Lord Eli attempted to teach me the language, he called Japanese, but it was very difficult as the foreign language had no connections to English or connected ancient languages like Latin and Greek, so I was only able to learn greetings and simple phrases. I was also studying other languages of Europe, such as Cornish, Basque, and Flemish, among others, which were prioritized due to immediate needs. However, Lord Eli was very enthusiastic about the foreigners known as Japanese, so I wanted to hear more about them. Lord Eli recounted grand stories called manga and anime concerning fantastical heroes like Himura Kenshin and Uzumaki Naruto, who triumphed over assorted villains and had unimaginable skills. It was akin to hearing folktales of Beowulf, but Lord Eli stated that the experience he directed me to gain would make me an unrivaled asset. Though it felt odd that Lord Eli would ask me to train in such things, I obeyed without question. My body and mind developed as a result. During the years of King Edward’s reign, Lord Eli directed me to train troops at the Seahawk military stronghold in Cornwall, many Royal Marines became my disciples because of countless encounters in the woods, when my quick strikes left entire squads unconscious.

Upon the reign of my lord’s sister, Mary, I was sent away to Navarre, a kingdom southwest of France and north of Spain, rival nations who had sided with Mary to attain the English throne. As my ability to garner intelligence through the deaths of others was invaluable in developing intelligence, I can understand why I was sent to Navarre’s court. Additionally, Navarre’s king, Henry II, was in bad health, and his Queen, Jean, was a worldly woman with anti-Catholic sympathies. These circumstances made Navarre a perfect place for someone with my specialty. Lord Eli’s chief reason for sending me to Navarre was to safeguard the young heir to the kingdom of Navarre, a cousin of the sitting Valois king of France, Henry Bourbon. In the history of Lord Eli’s world, this newborn child would one day become England’s greatest ally upon taking the French throne, along with a Flemish nobleman declaring independence of his lands, forming a triple alliance that countered Habsburg and Papal interests on the continent. As such, I was given letters of introduction to become a scholar of the small royal court of Navarre. As I had studied for years in classical fields, it was simple for me to assume the role of a scholar, transcribing Latin, and Greek to French, Spanish, and Basque, the primary language of Navarre.

Despite the scant amount of coin for such a high position within a kingdom, Queen Jean was a wonderful host, who held no airs about her noble rank. In some ways, she reminded me of Lord Eli, especially after King Henry II of Navarre died in 1555 and she became Queen regent for her infant son. I knew that Queen Jean and Lord Eli had begun exchanging coded letters after Lord Eli was released from the Tower of London, they were making plans. Unlike Lord Eli, Queen Jean was a seasoned politician and diplomat in her own right, meaning she was skilled in maneuvering options to be the most optimal for her family and her kingdom. I watched her feasting the French and Spanish ambassadors every night, then offering diversions to them in the day with music, wines, and exotic lovers suiting each desire. Queen Jean had to turn her court into a common brothel and even become a barmaid, serving these men to their heart’s content, but neither France nor Spain attacked Navarre as a result. Despite being allies, they could not agree on a common policy towards Navarre. If it were not for Queen Mary Tudor of England, Queen Regent Mary of Guise of Scotland, and Queen Regent Catherine of Medici in France, then she would have been the greatest Queen of our era. Yet, her sacrifice to the Spanish and French only saved her nation on its face, but the nearby nobles of these nations were free to pillage and rape to their hearts’ content. Of course, these nobles will receive absolution from an ordained Papal priest. At the same time, I’ve seen Navarre suffering peasants begging for coins and bread in front of their parish churches, but they received only jeers and kicks for tarnishing a house of God. I may not share Lord Eli’s hatred due to abuses in a prior lifetime, but any church based on the belief that evil can be cleansed through payment or abandons the weak in their time of need deserves only scorn. The same can be seen in the nobles of England, who call themselves Protestants, but prey on their tenant farmers and craftsmen for quotas on goods and taxes in the name of divine ordinance. However, I did not act against these vile villains for the common good immediately, since I had my mission to protect the young Henry Bourbon and gather intelligence for Lord Eli.

The event that began my infamy as the Black Knight of Navarre began in 1556. I traveled as a scholar to the town of Irouléguy at the foothill of the Pyrenees mountains, I encountered a band of Spaniards. I wore my usual black clothing and traveling cloak with copper buttons, so I appeared like a mourner making a pilgrimage home to visit a deceased parent. Such individuals were common on the road and other travelers avoided mourners due to bad luck, especially soldiers who wanted to avoid death.

At a simple inn, I was seated in a dark corner furthest away from the fireplace, a location I preferred at inns due to how inconspicuous it could be. It was a quiet evening at this inn, the only patrons, who entered later, were a group of four Spanish soldiers escorting an overweight bishop speaking broken French. As I heard the man converse with the soldiers in Spanish and Italian fluently, I knew the priest was a Papal envoy with new annual quota requests for crop exports to the Roman Papal state from Church lands in the French realm. They must have crossed the Pyrenees to reach the Aquitaine region.

The organization of the church within various nations was like autonomous fiefs that served a foreign lord. While many argue that King Henry VIII was a womanizer and adulterer, he was one of the few rulers in Europe who understood this intrinsic threat to nations’ integrity. Unlike nobles from the kingdom, none of the lands would produce taxes to the kingdom they were within, but inversely, they drew in peasant farmers and craftsmen from other lands in the name of faith. This unequal relationship allowed parish priests to be equal to Knights, Bishops to be equal to Counts, and Cardinal to be equal to Earls with no ties to the people or lands. French king Francis I did not understand this threat when he allowed his son Henry II to marry Catherine de Medici, a scion of the Pope’s family. Now, his kingdom has fallen completely. In comparison, stronger monarchs, like Emperor Charles V and his son, King Philip of Spain, negotiated fair terms with the Church, forcing their priests to submit to their courts, tax revenues to be divided, and peasants to be shared. We knew the secret was due to their military technology, abundance of transmigrated consciousness, and plentiful cores. England and its territories refused to acknowledge these rules, so King Henry VIII of England purged Papal rights from the kingdom, strengthened ties with the Welsh and Cornish, and prepared for a long war. Though England was weaker than the church and its allies, the church and their forces lacked the resources at that time to confront us and quell a decades-long civil war in the Holy Roman Empire. Sadly, kingdoms like Navarre did not have that luxury.

The inn was maintained by an elderly couple and a sullen young boy, who was their grandson. The boy, around eleven or twelve years of age, drew my attention as he also stayed away from the fireplace, preferring to hide in a corner, and wore mostly black clothing like my own. By staying silent in the corner of the room for several hours before the arrival of Spanish troops and the priest, I learned several things about the family as I sipped ale. The elderly couple took in their grandson after their daughter was left without a husband, destitute, and violated by the pillaging of a Spanish lord in the occupied areas of Navarre on the southern foothills of the Pyrenees. It was implied that the poor woman was sent to a convent by the local priest after sending her young son away to them. In the past, convents were meant to be a sanctuary for women, but in recent decades, they were rumored as places where noblemen would frequently visit for carnal pleasures that no prostitute would accept for any price. It was likely that the woman was chosen due to her exceptional beauty to become a plaything for the people who destroyed her family. I sympathized with the poor boy’s plight and the suffering of the peasants. I had a few hard candies that Lord Eli and Robert had given me before I departed Bristol for Navarre, which I shared with the boy. I may not be known for benevolence, but being an orphan as well, I find common cause with others who fall into similar circumstances.

I spoke in heavily accented Basque, “Mesedez, hartu txokolate bat. (Please take a candy)”

The boy nodded and gratefully took the hard candy, “Eskerrik asko, gutxi dira gure hizkuntza hain ondo hitz egiten duten atzerritarrak. (Thank you, very few foreigners can speak our language so well.)”

He did not speak again to me as he enjoyed the melting sweet candy in his mouth. When the Spaniards came in, he ran towards his grandparents. The boy began bringing large mugs of ale to the table, but he did not realize that the portly bishop was leering at him. The leers became inappropriate touches on the young boy’s hands, face, and buttocks after several more servings. The Spanish troops began to do the same after several drinks as the boy had some androgynous features at his young age to entice these men, who normally bedded women. The bishop in contrast was always lucid and open with his desires. After the sixth serving of ale, the young boy did not come back out upon the request of these patrons for more ale.

Bishop and his men approached the elderly grandfather, yelling in Spanish, “Saca al chico!”

The old man valiantly tried to fend off the Spaniards, but he was easily overwhelmed, and a sword pierced his abdomen. The young boy was dragged out of the backroom of the inn, where the cries of his grandmother ceased after a shriek of pain. They tossed the boy on a wooden table and began disrobing him, but unbeknownst to them, I had finished my preparations and brought out the ten throwing daggers and a curved 20 in. steel sharp sword that Lord Eli had me train with, called a Wakizashi. I wish I could have been a hero like those of Lord Eli’s stories, but it took time to bring out my weapons and prepare for the surprise attack. In a world of reality, normal human beings must sacrifice time for victory.

Before the overweight bishop could defile the boy, I threw two daggers aimed at the back of his head and neck, killing the corrupt filth as he stood. Then, I threw the remaining daggers at the shocked Spanish troops, who were wearing leather armor and helmets, so I aimed for exposed joints and shoulders to reduce their mobility. When all my projectile weapons were launched, I unsheathed the sword from the scabbard and dashed to the group of soldiers. With their limited mobility and heavy steel swords, I found many openings in their slashes and took them. The Wakizashi was unlike any sword that these men had ever encountered, the sharpness and curve of the sword was made for dismemberment. Hands and heads, which usually could not be removed without great effort with traditional European steel swords, began to fly off bodies. Blood was splattered in enormous quantities across this quiet inn by the northern foothill of the Pyrenees. All of this took place within ten minutes.

When all these ruffians were killed, I was drenched in blood and human matter. My dark shirt and pants were covered in the brownish hue of drying blood, which had lost their natural redness. It was the first time I used my new skills in such a way, the first time I killed so many people without being asked by Lord Eli. While I knew this action was unnecessary and harmed anonymity in developing an intelligence network for England, I would have done it again as I learned what the bishop had done in his lifetime to many young boys. Executing filth like him was worth these marginal costs and Lord Eli would probably applaud my actions.

I burned the bodies of the bishop and Spaniards. The grieving boy pleaded to join me, but I refused to take him in since I had a mission to accomplish for my lord. Instead, I offered him some gold from the bishop’s purse, which was considerable as he was a papal envoy. Then, we ventured to the home of an elderly tanner, who was a friend of the boy’s grandfather. I gave the remaining gold to the tanner, so he could raise the boy and make him his apprentice. Before I departed, the boy vowed to one day join me in heroic deeds.

He called me, “Zaldun Beltza. (The Black Knight.)”