The Nonexistent Knight

“Agilulf Emo Bertrandin of the Guildivern and of the Others of Corbentraz and Sura, Knight of Selimpia Citeriore and Fez was certainly a model soldier, but disliked by all.”

Agilulf is the ideal knight. He may have no body, but he is utterly dedicated to the chivalric code which teaches how to be a knight. Importantly, this code (and the ability to adhere to the code) does not make Agilulf likable. In actual fact, the other paladins resent his dedication to the code as it undermines their own honor. Agilulf’s existence and the other paladins’ resentment reveal the hollowness at the heart of the chivalric code.

“It’s all so different from what I expected.”

Raimbaut is introduced to war through the lens of disappointment. He has read about warfare and knights but, on reaching the army camp, he is saddened that the chivalry of legend is nowhere to be found. The army of Charlemagne has conquered vast swatches of Europe, but the legends and myths of brave honorable knights are as vapid and as empty as Agilulf’s suit. Raimbaut dares not criticize the army yet, but he will acknowledge its difference from his expectations. To criticize would be to admit that he overly invested himself in the impossible legend of chivalry.

“He felt a vague sense of discomfort come over him at knowing himself to be outside all these rules of a game.”

Raimbaut wants to become a follower of the chivalric code. At this stage, he is on the periphery of the systems of rules and principles which supposedly govern the lives of knights. In the same way, he is on the outside of Agilulf’s complicated games, trying to discern their meaning from the outside but unsure of the exact correspondence between idea and action, between rule and effect. This unknowing sense of being on the outside fills Raimbaut with discomfort, reminding him that the systems which he believes to be governing the world are obtuse and inscrutable.

“He’s just a person who exists and doesn’t realize he exists.”

Gurduloo is the mirror of Agilulf. The knight thinks he exists, even if he does not, while Gurduloo does not realize that he exists, but really does. Between them, they have incorrectly divided the principles of existence. They diverge in many other ways, however, as Gurduloo does not feel beholden to the laws of the land, even though he exists, while the nonexistence knight is beholden to (and embodies) the chivalric code. Their opposing characters prompt the question of the meaning of existence.

“A verbal statement by the emperor has the validity of an immediate decree.”

Agilulf takes Charlemagne’s irony joke about Gurduloo to heart. He makes Gurduloo his squire, quoting the technicality of a legal system which does not account for irony. A statement or suggestion by the emperor, he says, has the effect of being a legal demand. Regardless of whether Charlemagne was joking, his words become law. Agilulf, through his relentless commitment to legality, reveals the inherent absurdity of the imperial system of law.

“Apart from religious ceremonies, triduums, novenas, gardening, harvesting, vintaging, whippings, slavery, incest, fires, hangings, invasion, sacking, rape and pestilence, we have had no experience. What can a poor nun know of the world?”

As Sister Theodora introduces herself by name, her character becomes clarified through her rhetorical devices. She employs irony heavily, asking her audience how a nun—who has experienced much from the long list of crimes she provides—could ever know about the world. The irony of this is twofold. Firstly, there is the contrast between the supposed innocence of nuns and the horrors to which they are subjected. Secondly, Sister Theodora, in her past life, has been a knight at war, so she is lying to the audience through facetious reasoning. She is not just a nun, but nor does she believe that a nun cannot understand the world, contradicting the received wisdom of her age and audience.

“The animal would have crashed to the ground long before had not the iron pieces around his flank and legs kept it rigid, as if rooted to the spot.”

Raimbaut’s horse dies during the battle. He does not notice, however, as the animal’s thick armor keeps it upright in an affectation of life. In this moment, the horse resembles Agilulf, a nonexistent entity which feigns existence from within a suit of armor. The horse has no moral code to embody, however, so it cannot continue to exist. The dead horse represents a counterpoint to Agilulf, illustrating the force of will and commitment required to empower a set of armor with life where there should be none.

“The only way to cope with him is to give him a clearcut job to do.”

Agilulf has taken Gurduloo under his guidance as a squire, but his comments about Gurduloo’s teaching could equally apply to Raimbaut. After avenging his father’s death, Raimbaut feels disjointed and lost. He does not know what to do with himself, so he wants to become a knight. Agilulf’s first instinct is to teach Raimbaut how to survey the food in the tents and then order him to help bury the dead. Like Gurduloo, Raimbaut has no idea about his true identity, Like Gurduloo, Agilulf is quietly addressing this identity crisis by assigning him clearcut jobs to give his immediate existence a purpose from which he can derive an identity. Raimbaut may resent these chores, but Agilulf is silently helping him.

“Or rather you have, you are this carcass, that which at times, in moments of despondency, I find myself envying in men who exist.”

Carrying the corpse of a dead man, Agilulf has an introspective moment. The man existed before, but now he does not. Agilulf wonders whether he envies this cycle, of living and dying, which gives a life shape and purpose. He decides that actions and deeds, rather than a corporeal form, are more important. If he does envy the dead man, he is only envying the appearance of existence which the corpse represents and which he lacks, rather than the dead man’s actual existence.

“In fact, no sooner was she armed than she became another person.”

The armor of a knight is an identity for a person like Bradamante. She may have grown up as a princess, but the suit of armor is a better expression of the person she really believes herself to be. She changes her identity when she dons the armor, becoming her real self. Inside the armor, she is freed from her untidiness and the social constraints of her gender. Instead, the armor allows her to express her love of order and chivalry, the values which, she believes, best identify her and which are represented by the armor. The armor is an expression of the real identity which Bradamante cannot project into the world when she is not armored.

“He longed for a time to fight and do prodigious deeds before her emerald eyes.”

Raimbaut not only wants to perform chivalrous deeds for the sake of glory; he also wants Bradamante to witness these deeds. Her witnessing his deeds gives them meaning and purpose, beyond Agilulf’s belief in chivalry for chivalry’s sake. Raimbaut has succumb to emotion, so that only love seems like a worthy justification for his actions. He is no longer content to become a knight. Now, Bradamante must witness his becoming a knight so that her observation might validate his deeds.

“Against all Imperial rules of etiquette, Charlemagne settled at table before the proper time.”

The code of chivalry is one of many systems of etiquette which supposedly govern behavior during this era. As with the paladins’ loose observation of the chivalric code, however, no system is entirely rigid. Each character (except Agilulf, who does not exist) treats these supposedly immutable systems as variable. Charlemagne is the ruler of the Franks. In his corporeal self, he embodies the empire and the values of the Franks. Yet he does not adhere to the rules which supposedly govern society. Even Charlemagne, the founder of society, does not feel beholden to the rules when they do not suit him. The system of etiquette is as hollow as Agilulf’s armor, just another broad falsity into which the society invests meaning without any enforcement.

“Anyway, violated chastity presupposes a violator.”

Agilulf is confident that he will be able to verify his account of his knighthood because he believes in ideals such as chivalry and chastity. To him, such codes are rigid and proof unto themselves. Providing chastity is a mechanical matter, which he explains with a linguistic formula. Agilulf’s naivety will be revealed, however, as his belief in these systems does not account for lies or deception. Sophronia’s chastity will be upheld, but not in the way Agilulf proposes.

“Charlemagne, as he rose from the banquet, rather shaky on his legs, heard of all these sudden departures and moved towards the royal pavilion thinking of days when the departures were of Astolf, Rinaldo, Guidon Selvaggio, Roland, to do deeds which later entered the epics of poets, while now the same veterans would never move a step unless forced by duty.”

The novel is set during the later years of Charlemagne’s life, during The End of Eras and the introduction of rapid societal change. His old age is the old age of the order he represents, the waning years of the chivalric glory. Once, great knights rode out on adventures which would become fodder for epic poems. Now, the bothersome knight and an illegitimate son are competing to establish the right side of an anecdote which hardly interests Charlemagne. The court, representative of chivalry itself, is an exhausted parody of what is supposedly once was, an empty suit of armor with nothing inside.

“Book, evening is here, and I have begun to write more rapidly.”

Sister Theodora addresses the book, rather than the audience. The subtle choice of address indicates that Theodora is not writing for a broader audience. The book is not intended to be published. It is a penance, a literary form of confession and atonement which is deeply personal for Theodora. The effect on the audience is to draw them further into Theodora’s confessional private world, as her role changes from simple narrator to a narrative focus. As the narratives converge and her identity is revealed, the private nature of her confession becomes more apparent and more important.

“I am a knight and it would be discourteous to reject a formal request for help made by a female in tears.”

Agilulf receives explicit warning of the danger posed by Priscilla, but his chivalric ideals compel him to help her nevertheless. She has issued a formal request for help and, as such, Agilulf is utterly beholden to her. He is captured by his own code, even against his better judgement, and his fervent devotion to this code is evident in the way he would rather place himself in danger than refuse a damsel’s request for help, thereby contravening his chivalric ideals.

“Between doing a thing and doing it badly we thought it best to do nothing at all.”

The old man reveals to Agilulf that Sophronia has been kidnapped by pirates. When Agilulf questions why the old man or the other locals did not help, he is given an answer which utterly contradicts the essence of Agilulf’s being (to the extent that he exists). The old man cannot even bring himself to perform the very basic tenets of the chivalric code, those which call on men to defend women. The old man believes that he should do nothing rather than do a thing badly, while Agilulf is so utterly committed to doing that same thing very well that he has overcome the biggest impediment of all: nonexistence.

“By now my paper is such a mess of lines going in all directions. Ah yes, here’s a line corresponding to Torrismund’s journey.”

The fateful meeting between Torrismund and Sophronia (a meeting which threatens to cause many problems but ultimately provides many resolutions) is not under the control of Sister Theodora. She is the narrator of the novel, but she is struggling to maintain control of her narrative. She has resorted to lines and maps to chart out the immensity of her narrative, as words alone cannot fully convey everything. The way in which Torrismund’s narrative line intersects with Sophronia’s line suggests that Theodora has no control over these lines, in spite of her role as their author and illustrator. The characters possess a free will and an agency beyond her.

“And they certainly never soil their hands with money, as they haven’t a cent. But they expect a lot and we have to obey.”

For the peasants who work the land, the knights are not chivalrous figures. They are far-removed from the legendary idealized version of knights, as they demand food from starving peasants without contributing anything of value to the land themselves. They are parasitic figures, living on the labor of others. At this tail end of the age of chivalry, the knights have been reduced from awe-inspiring heroes to pathetic leeches. This reduction is part of the novel’s deconstruction of the chivalrous mythology, highlighting the problems associated with Duty as an Idealistic Standard.

“It’s not I who am moving my feet. I am letting them be moved.”

The Knights of the Grail proceed along their path of enlightenment by surrendering agency. They allow the Grail to guide their every movement, meaning that they no longer have free will over their actions. These tired, pathetic knights claim that they are superior to others by abandoning their free will, a decision which is largely rejected by many of the other characters, who leave the Knights of the Grail to their own pursuits.

“Let us be led where the Grail takes us.”

As they flee the battle, after being embarrassed by the peasants and Torrismund, the Knights of the Grail shout out that they are following the orders of the Grail. In doing so, they reveal the vapidity of their beliefs. Rather than spiritually drawing inspiration from the Holy Grail, they are opportunistically using the Grail to justify their immediate needs. Taking food from starving peasants is the will of the Grail, attacking the complaining peasants is the will of the Grail, and fleeing after being routed by that same group of starving peasants is the will of the Grail. Through their shameful actions, the knights show that the Grail is simply an excuse for them to exercise their immediate, opportunistic, self-interested desires.

“They were free and happy years for me, compared with those awaiting me in the convent which I was forced to enter by the Duke of Cornwall.”

In Agilulf’s telling of events, he saved the virgin Sophronia from the shame of rape. In her version of events, his intervention forced her to abandon her carefree life with her half-brother to become imprisoned in a convent. Agilulf may have the technical details of the story correct, but he ignores the emotional damage that he has wrought on Sophronia’s life. His code does not accommodate her desire to live in such a manner, revealing the importance of subjective interpretation in relation to such strict claims to moral objectivity.

“Every time he hoped to find himself facing an emptiness, instead of which there was always a nose above a pair of twisted moustaches.”

The irony of Raimbaut’s fruitless search for Agilulf is that he spends his life seeking out a meaningful void, only to be disappointed by the permeance of the corporeal form. The physical presence of humanity has become a disappointment to him because he is seeking an empty space which cannot be found. To Raimbaut, this empty space represents the code of chivalry and a way of living which has been lost. Each human face he sees is only a disappointing reminder of how little reality aligns with Agilulf’s code. Raimbaut chases after emptiness in a desperate bid to add substance to his life.