Chapter 349: The Minstrel Chants

A stage was set in a hurry and the attendants were called. Of course Lily came too. Almost all the attendant maids would have come. And they all have bouncing faces. Many would have seen it once in the play, and compared with a play a minstrel chants alone, so I think it will not be that much. And I also know that when I think that kind of thing, it often rolls the other way.

When the audience side was ready the minstrel appeared. Among the Eisleben tribe maids some said kyaa! Meaning many know him. Indeed, coming from the Eisleben clan he is a handsome man with dignity and no coarse feeling at all. Just a sidelong look and the mansion maids raise a cheer.

The clan chief went near the minstrel, pointed at me, and said something. Something, surely he told him the protagonist of the talk he will chant from now is here. The minstrel’s expression stiffened for an instant, then returned at once to a gentle expression and he bowed his head to me.

Then at last the story began. The minstrel played an instrument like a lute, and all at once a song praising me began, and it became a love-story talk with Count von Kirchhoff’s daughter. An even more instant lover than in the play. And I was surprised that it was told with the real name as Count von Kirchhoff, not Keyhoff. It is a real name, but what about hiding personal information? I put that poke away inside my heart. Then he tore down Count von Kirchhoff as a cruel, lawless noble. He is not that terrible a human, I think, but no one says anything. It is fiction anyway, so whatever is what, is there no problem? Because we are far from the royal capital, is the thought that whatever you say is fine?

As the story advanced there were people who took the minstrel’s telling as true and shouted kill that bad one! Then people saying the same kind of thing appeared from elsewhere. I cannot say I do not understand that feeling, but in the setting that bad noble is my lover’s father. I happened to look at Her Majesty’s face. She had a very glad face.

In no time it became the clash, and then at last the scene of my duel with Agnes on the roof. The moment Agnes appeared a yan-ya yan-ya ovation rose and drowned the minstrel’s voice. Is a minstrel used to this kind of situation? He told on without hurrying. But about Agnes he praised her with every word, beautiful in form, clear in mind, talent and beauty together, pure and lovely, cherry blossoms in full bloom. Everyone listening nodded at this, and Agnes herself had no embarrassment or shame at all and listened proud! You, is there no such thing as being embarrassed or shy? What about Lily? I thought and looked at her face. A shiraa face. Well. She is a bit part. Her Majesty smiled bitter, fed up. Right? That is so.

Then when Agnes lost at the end of the duel a voice of disappointment rose all at once. You all know the result, yes? I wanted to ask. You know and can get that high!

After the duel Agnes made a monologue of her hidden love toward me, and the listening maids sniffled. Agnes was crying too. Lily was crying. Her Majesty was crying. In short I recognized that here is the point where women cry. I... cannot cry at all. Holding love after fighting only once, what kind of thing is that? And toward a child less than half her years? Is that an ordinary sense? I think.

Somehow Agnes’s monologue was long. A lovely maiden far from the person herself sniffled and told her love for me earnest. Lady Agnes herself I think has only a very small vocabulary, but the Agnes the minstrel told handled various words and spoke to me. At last my heart moved too, and I promised to answer Agnes’s feeling. Hearing that the audience was hugely glad and clapped.

Last I dropped the last boss Count von Kirchhoff, seemed to have forgotten the lover young lady completely, took Agnes’s hand and swore love. The talk ended with my extremely selfish action.

At my all-too-convenient action I who was listening was struck dumb. Lily looked my way and said nothing. Her Majesty, Anouk, and so on, the attendant people all know the protagonist is me, but will someone please put a complaint to the minstrel that it differs too much from fact.

The minstrel stood, bowed once, and a thunder of applause and ovation came from the audience. As entertainment it is good, but if this is thought to be truth it will be terrible, I thought, and Agnes herself spilled tears drop by drop.

"To tell the true thing this much..."

she said. You recognizing it, what then! In this instant fiction became nonfiction... Aaaaah.

Unlike the story the minstrel told, in fact I am refusing the confession of a very, very important princess (Agnes of course). I thought voices condemning a foreign ambassador who does not know his place would rise, but the Eisleben tribe people’s interest was a little off. Maybe because there are many men.

"Is jumping up to a three-story mansion true?"

"Is dodging the princess’s arrows fact?"

Questions gathered on that kind of martial skill. Before I said it Agnes said,

"Yes! What was told is the truth!"

and barked. This is what pouring oil on fire means. A talk rose that we must have that martial skill shown no matter what. In a blink the Eisleben tribe people’s opinion matched and it became a talk of please duel the princess.

Agnes, excited,

"Let us do it!! Lord Marie, let us show it no matter what!"

She had flown up. Setting fire herself and pouring oil further. I swore hard in my heart that I must never take this kind of person as a wife.