All Things Are Lights | Page 9

be a
troubadour."
"But how can I know that?"
Cardenal's face came close to Roland's, and Roland smelled the wine

on his breath. "You know you are because I tell you, and it takes a
troubadour to recognize another troubadour."
The stocky man clapped him on the shoulder. The heavy blow hurt, but
it made him think of the moment when, at the touch of his seigneur's
sword, a squire becomes a knight.
"I could be a troubadour?" Roland felt light-headed, as if he were
floating above the balcony, drifting toward the stars.
Cardenal snorted. "Do not be so quickly overjoyed, boy. It is not an
easy life. Singing for your supper, that is what it comes down to."
"Yes," said Roland in a small voice, wanting to disagree but afraid to.
"There is something more important to a troubadour than singing and
playing," Cardenal went on.
"What is that?"
"Love. Even before he is a maker of songs, a troubadour is a man in
love. You are too young to know love. But you will, and your love will
be as vast as the ocean. Sometimes it will hurt worse than the torments
of the damned. Love unlocks the deepest places of the heart. You need
a lady, a goddess, to inspire you. Without her, you will be nothing."
Roland had heard countless love songs, had sung them himself. He had
some sense of what it was that drew men and women to each other. But
this talk of Cardenal's confused him. He said nothing.
"In love is the highest happiness known to man," Cardenal said. "And it
is given to troubadours, of all men, to see deepest into this mystery
whose laws have been in the keeping of women since time out of
memory. Remember what I say, but think no more about it for now.
Your father will tell you when you are ready."
Moments later, Roland wandered through the darkened great hall on his
way to bed, his head a melee of thoughts, frightening and joyful. I must

love always, he thought. Yes, I understand that much. A troubadour is a
man in love.
He saw in his mind a girl-child with red hair and transparent skin
looking at him and saying, "You will be wonderful!"
Yes, he thought. It is Diane. I may be too young, but I love her even
now, and when we are older I will tell her. I will be her troubadour, and
I will love her for all of my life.
But now Diane had taken herself from him, had chosen to become one
with those who lived between this world and heaven. Her choice was
the consolamentum, not the song of the troubadour. And as he watched
her moving among the last of the wounded, he realized how much finer
her goal was. He had no right to feel any claim upon her now.
His attention was draw to the bishop, who had finished his
ministrations and returned to his chair. Spreading out his arms, he
beckoned the men and women who were the flower of his church.
"My children, this battle we have lost tonight must be our last. The time
for fighting has past, if ever there was such a time. Our people should
never have taken up arms. It only provoked our enemies to greater
violence. Now I intend to order our knights to surrender. "
From everywhere around him Roland heard sighs, groans, quiet
weeping. But he heard no protest. They have accepted their fate, he
thought. Perhaps they even welcome it.
With a sad smile Bishop Bertran looked about the hall. "Diane. Please
come to me, my child."
She approached, lovely and stately, and Roland felt the breath stop in
his throat. She bowed her head, her flame-red hair glowing.
"Diane," he said softly, "perhaps God has sent this brave man for a
purpose. There are messages we must send to the outside world. We
have hidden much of the wealth of our church, and word of the hiding

place must be carried to our brethren who will survive us. You must
carry it, Diane."
Diane opened her mouth to protest, but Bishop Bertran silenced her
with a gentle wave of his hand. "You will also take with you our Holy
Vessel and the ancient books that were brought to us from the East.
Prepare to leave, my child."
Diane again bent her head. "Your will must prevail over mine, good
bishop. But I envy you your martyrdom. And perhaps because I envy
you I am not worthy of dying with you."
But Roland's heart gave a mighty leap. Diane would be coming with
him.

II
DIANE'S HEART FELT LEADEN AS SHE PREPARED TO LEAVE.
EACH FACE she looked at, she knew she was seeing for