Knight's Fee. Like Geoffrey Trease and writing at the same time, Rosemary Sutcliff here picks up some of the political themes which were very much present in children's novels of the period (Bows Against the Barons, anyone? Hereward the Wake?) - integration, rebellion, resistance - and her own interest in wounded heroes, and of them makes this story. It's set in Norman England, just after the start of the Norman Conquest, and covers a rather longer timespan than most Sutcliff novels, taking half Saxon, half Breton dogboy Randal (Randal the Bastard, Randal the Thief,... ) from whipping boy to a knight with his own manor, the knight's fee of the title which is both reward and cost. Along the way, it encompasses some beautifully drawn other characters - Ancret, the wise woman, Bevis, whom Randal loves and serves, and the minstrel Herluin, who sells Randal to his first leige-lord, Sir Everard. Oh, and William Rufus' death. I'm not going to spoil it, but it's beautiful and tragic the only way Sutcliff can write, and I loved it as a child only second to Eagle of the Ninth.
D’Aguillon looked down at his tangle of pale hair with a kind of half-amused wonder, and said, ‘Randal – do you love me, then?’ ‘If you take a half-starved dung-hill whelp and bring it up to be your hunting dog and hearth companion, you’re likely to find in the end that the silly brute loves you!’ Randal wept, almost defiantly.
And:
Lewin said, 'You killed de Courcy?’ ‘Oh yes,’ Randal said very gently. ‘I killed de Courcy.’
Shipping? Eh, there is such a plethora of characters and a tangled mix of alliances and friendships and loyalties that almost anything could be written. Randal/Bevis is so near canon as to make little difference, but I ship, hard, post-canon Randal/Herluin.
Knight's Fee
Knight's Fee.
Like Geoffrey Trease and writing at the same time, Rosemary Sutcliff here picks up some of the political themes which were very much present in children's novels of the period (Bows Against the Barons, anyone? Hereward the Wake?) - integration, rebellion, resistance - and her own interest in wounded heroes, and of them makes this story. It's set in Norman England, just after the start of the Norman Conquest, and covers a rather longer timespan than most Sutcliff novels, taking half Saxon, half Breton dogboy Randal (Randal the Bastard, Randal the Thief,... ) from whipping boy to a knight with his own manor, the knight's fee of the title which is both reward and cost. Along the way, it encompasses some beautifully drawn other characters - Ancret, the wise woman, Bevis, whom Randal loves and serves, and the minstrel Herluin, who sells Randal to his first leige-lord, Sir Everard. Oh, and William Rufus' death. I'm not going to spoil it, but it's beautiful and tragic the only way Sutcliff can write, and I loved it as a child only second to Eagle of the Ninth.
D’Aguillon looked down at his tangle of pale hair with a kind of half-amused wonder, and said, ‘Randal – do you love me, then?’
‘If you take a half-starved dung-hill whelp and bring it up to be your hunting dog and hearth companion, you’re likely to find in the end that the silly brute loves you!’ Randal wept, almost defiantly.
And:
Lewin said, 'You killed de Courcy?’
‘Oh yes,’ Randal said very gently. ‘I killed de Courcy.’
Shipping? Eh, there is such a plethora of characters and a tangled mix of alliances and friendships and loyalties that almost anything could be written. Randal/Bevis is so near canon as to make little difference, but I ship, hard, post-canon Randal/Herluin.