That was a new concept to Jack. “I never heard of such a man.”
“There are lots in France. I used to go overseas with my father when I was a child. I loved the jongleurs.”
“But what do they do? Just stand on the street and speak?”
“It depends. They come into the lord’s hall on feast days. They perform at markets and fairs. They entertain pilgrims outside churches. Great barons sometimes have their own jongleur.”
It occurred to Jack that not only was he talking to her, but he was having a conversation he could not have had with any other girl in Kingsbridge. He and Aliena were the only people in the town, apart from his mother, who knew about French romance poems, he was sure. They had an interest in common, and they were discussing it. The thought was so exciting that he lost track of what they were saying and he felt confused and stupid.
Fortunately she carried on. “Usually the jongleur plays the fiddle while he recites the story. He plays fast and high when there’s a battle, slow and sweet when two people are in love, jerky for a funny part.”
Jack liked that idea: background music to enhance the high points of the story. “I wish I could play the fiddle,” he said.
“Can you really recite stories?” she said.
He could hardly believe she was really interested in him, asking him questions about himself! And her face was even lovelier when it was animated by curiosity. “My mother taught me,” he said. “We used to live in the forest, just the two of us. She told me the stories again and again.”
“But how can you remember them? Some of them takedaysto tell.”
“I don’t know. It’s like knowing your way through the forest. You don’t keep the whole forest in your mind, but wherever you are, you know where to go next.” Glancing at the text of her book again, he was struck by something. He sat on the grass next to her to look more closely. “The rhymes are different,” he said.
She was not sure what he meant. “In what way?”
“They’re better. In ‘The Song of Roland,’ the wordswordrhymes withhorse,orlost,or withball.In your book,swordrhymes withhordebut not withhorse;lordbut not loss;boardbut notball.It’s a completely different way of rhyming. But it’s better, much better. I like these rhymes.”
“Would you ...” She looked diffident. “Would you tell me some of ‘The Song of Roland’?”
Jack shifted his position a little so that he could look at her. The intensity of her look, the sparkle of eagerness in her bewitching eyes, gave him a choking feeling. He swallowed hard, then began.
The lord and king of all France, Charles the Great
Has spent seven long years fighting in Spain.
He has conquered the highlands and the plain.
Before him not a single fort remains,
No town or city wall for him to break,
But Saragossa, on a high mountain
Ruled by King Marsilly the Saracen.
He serves Mahomed, to Apollo prays,
But even there he never will be safe.
Jack paused, and Aliena said: “You know it! You really do! Just like a jongleur!”
“You see what I mean about the rhymes, though.”
“Yes, but it’s the stories I like, anyway,” she said. Her eyes twinkled with delight. “Tell me some more.”
Jack felt as if he would faint with happiness. “If you like,” he said weakly. He looked into her eyes and began the second verse.
II
The first game of Midsummer Eve was eating the how-many bread. Like many of the games, it had a hint of superstition about it that made Philip uneasy. However, if he tried to ban every rite that smacked of the old religions, half the people’s traditions would be prohibited, and they would probably defy him anyway; so he exercised a discreet tolerance of most things, and took a firm line on one or two excesses.
