When I was notified that I'd been selected to attend the International Artists & Writers Residency in Orquevaux, France, my first thought was that I'd have two whole weeks to do nothing but write, and I might walk about in the early morning hours and take a few photos. I wanted to write something relevant to the experience, so I developed a story idea involving time and geographic travel, and based on Denis Diderot's novella "Rameau's Nephew" which is done completely in dialogue. My two characters would be Diderot himself (from the 18th century) and Robert de Brus (from the 12th century), last of the line to King Robert de Brus of Scotland to live in France. Through my research and writing I stumbled on a story by Chrétien de Troyes called Yvain, the Knight of the Lion, and I incorporated parts into the dialogue between the two characters, as philosopher Diderot set about to help lord de Brus reconcile a difficult decision he was about to make. I didn't think much of the fact that Chrétien was from the city of Troyes. In fact, I didn't even realize how close Troyes was to Orquevaux until a group of us made a day trip there. Still I didn't really connect the two. This photo was taken as I wandered the streets of the city, detouring into side and back alleyways looking for picture-worthy sights. While modern conveniences have been added such as water pipes and electric lights, some of the architecture and the buildings themselves do not appear much changed since those olden times (perhaps even as far back as Chrétien's time in the 12th century). While he and de Brus lived at the same time, its unlikely that they ever could have met, but in my story I like to think that Chrétien's writing in some small way influenced the dialogue between the two men. I don't know . . . a stretch perhaps, but what is science fiction if not a stretch of the imagination. Anyway, as I walked those ancient streets, I feel like I was, in a way, searching for Chrétien.
He: I . . . I am but an insolent knight who stands between a slain dragon and a grateful lion.
I: Ah, good sir, I know this reference. For what do you seek redemption . . . if I, too, my be impudent.
He: (after a pause during which each of the men contemplated the trustworthiness of the other) It is with excessive pride that I thought to secure my homage to the kings of the north, and in so doing I fear I have neglected my duties to the only one I could call liege lord. If I now must break the chain of fealty that I longed worked toward, it will cost me nearly everything.
I: A man who finds himself alone on a desert island--or on the precipice of this abyss as it were--without hope of escape and without trusted companions would no more contemplate ending his life, nor depriving himself of the usage of his reason, as he would be to cease loving and honoring his God.
He: Precisely so. And had it been King Arthur who came to sit among the knights instead of David crossing the Tees, I might perhaps have succeeded in my impassioned plea. But it was not, and I did not, and now I am left with the knowledge that I have allowed my greed for property and influence to take the place of my honor and fealty not only to God and king, but also to family.
I: Does not honor and fealty require that the one in which it is placed, be they prince or father, never command dishonorable acts.
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