#jerott

In Which Lymond Makes Executive Decisions No One Is Happy About (Least of All Us) and Jerott and Marthe Descend Into Their Own Personal War/Hell. Le. Sigh.

WHERE ARE THESE PLACES?

Zakynthos

        Aleppo

     Well, now we know.

OK. So Aftermath of the Battle ensues - in Malta, where the Dauphine and Gaultier and Salablanca and Marthe and Onophrion (why can't I spell his name properly? I just had to correct it three times...) are.

That is to say... a lot of talking.

Salablanca and Jerott: Recap. Salabanca (?), Jerott, Lymond, Gaultier and Marthe: Save Philippa! Save the kids! Split into two groups! (???)

Of course, Lymond gets his way after seriously browbeating both Jerott and Marthe into doing what he wants. [And I can't remember why Lymond wanted the both of them to goooo.... sooo... I'm looking forward to finding out why. Maybe he knows what Marthe's up to. Well, he's the descendant of Nicholas and he wasn't born yesterday, so Lymond prolly does know...]

Marthe and Jerott: THE BEGINNING OF A LONG, LONG, LONG, LONG WAR OF THE SUBTERFUGIC WORDS.

I just made that up: subterfugic. But it's true. You know it is.

Marthe is (in a way) on her default setting of discontent. If Francis had glided into the harbor with glad throngs and happy trumpets, she would've been derisive. As it is, he does not and appears to be setting motion other plans, so Marthe settles for....... derisive.

"Are there no balloons, no bunting, no dancing round bonfires? Does the machine not make festival when the great Gabriel is dead? Or is the whole programme a farce, clicking from item to item, and none of it real? Is there such a person as Gabriel? Did he live? Is he dead? And after him we have Child One; and another to seek; and who knows, yet another and another: this man will traverse Europe, a crazy Pied Piper drawing waifs, flotsam, lagan and dodands in his train. Is Philippa Somerville lost? Or safe at home in England with Fogge...? Tell us, Mr. Blyth. If he is mad, I can agree with him."

First observation: she sees Lymond as a machine. Why? I think she recognizes an ability for manipulation and efficiency equal to her own abilities and in calling him a machine, Marthe is also defining herself. People so often define themselves solely in opposition to their "enemy".

Second observation: Look at those semicolons. Wow. Dunnett can use semicolons without fear. I'm afraid of them like you have no idea....

So here starts the beginning of the long saga of Marthe and Jerott's relationship. We all know how this is going to end... (Checkmate) So, for me, it's a pitiless, brutal unfolding... Sigh.

Alright. So now there is a further split in the splendid company which had set out from Europe. I'm feeling like I'm caught in Lord of the Rings.

Dauphine: Getting all prettied up (thank you, Onophrion) as well as arriving at Zakynthos and chatting with the Venetians and et cetera there to discover...

"A faint spirit half-slipped betwixt the skin and the flesh, till they sent him to Prince Dragut's to recover. Then in October came back this same Kuzucuyum, beautiful and bright in the colour of his body, and energetic and firm in his soul."

OMG. So, two boys, born in two places, taken from their moms, sent to Dragut's and then... WERE THEY SWITCHED? DOES PHILIPPA HAVE THE RIGHT ONE AFTER ALL? OH THE HUMANITY.

"One child born of Oonagh at Djerba. One child born of Joleta here at Zakynthos. Both in Dragut's harem. One had come back to Zakynthos and joined the Children. One had gone with Oonagh to be sold to Al-Rashid the camel-trader, and finally to the silk-farmer of Mehedia and his sister's terrible house. Which?"

THAT IS THE QUESTION OF THE HOUR WE ARE ALL FREAKED OUT ABOUT. OH THE HUMANITY.

And then we get a rare Francis monologue:

Considering everyone's position.... a) Gaultier - let them both die b) Philippa - save them! (if she knew there were two) c) Marthe - save them, I guess? (asking after the kid but with no real concern) d) Jerott - save yours, kill Gabriel's 3) Me...................

He's not sure what to do. An interesting moment for our Gary Stu, resulting in some philosophizing and more semicolon usage.

"This child; this unknown son of his blood, was worth one life: his own. From its unmindful genesis, its heritage from birth had been suffering; an evil not to be tolerated: an evil outweighed only by the greater evil of Gabriel's survival.

But Gabriel was dead. As a man, this child would be one's offering to the future races of men. the burden of his upbringing, where it fell: however tiresome or onerous was of no importance compared with his living grasp of the future. This, one felt of one's son. Was it not also true of Gabriel?"

THE ANSWER IS, "NO, FRANCIS, IT IS NOT!!!"

"From that monstrous connection, a child had been born as blameless as his. Neither child, from reports was malformed or mentally maimed. Gabriel's son had escaped the physical risks of his heritage; other taints, it might be, had escaped him as well. What was original sin? Was it more than an arbitrary pattern set in the loom, of talents and weaknesses, picked out from the warp of one's forebears? Who could say then that, more than his own, Gabriel's house might not hold the potential of genius?"

And this is why Marthe sees within Francis a machine.

Well, there's a lot here... and altho it's difficult to pinpoint authorial intent and beliefs within fictional texts, one wonders at the dialogue that Dunnett is pointing to based on her own personal observations of people's ability to make their own destiny.

But there's quite a bit to unpack here.

1) There is an idea of ownership in relation to fatherhood and parenting and having kids. A notion that one's kids are gifts to the future and carry on oneself beyond one's death. This is echoed in Nicholas's story when Dr. Andreas basically tells Nicholas to not get another kid because the future has enough trouble children to carry on destiny. So, the question, initially, is do we (or Francis) want Francis to be carried on to the future - or Gabriel?

2) Then, there is this idea Francis has - that he is somehow responsible to/for this little person. Now, this is possibly a reflection of current societal expectations - and may in fact (altho I'm not certain) reflect a medieval notion that men are responsible for their progeny. Which is... well... Opinion time. Personally, I find the continuation of this idea within modern society hypocritical and disturbing. I mean, a woman and a man have sex. It is assumed that the woman has full right to dispose of her child (abort) without the agreement of her partner, BUT if she decides to keep it, in many countries, she can demand child support (oftentimes without DNA testing). Frankly, if women are all about "bodily autonomy" and "doing what they want without restraint" then they should take sole responsibility as well. End rant. Sigh. OK. So Francis is a good dad b/c he's looking for his son... but then...

3) Francis starts to look at it from Gabriel's point of view. Which is, IMO, stupid. Maybe I lack compassion. I mean, yes, I get objectivity. Objectivity is all. BUT IT'S A STUPID CONCLUSION. First off, if Gabriel really cared for his kid and the future, would he put his kid through crap? No. Second, who in their right mind considers: I wonder if the megalomaniac deserves to send his progeny forward to the future? Um. Well, let's see, Francis.... FRANCIS! On the other hand, we don't support the stigmatization or persecution of war criminals' descendants or the descendants of slave owners. Do we? Do we? This is a huge question to grapple with...

4) Then Dunnett (and Francis) start considering theological issues: original sin and the sins of one forefather's passing down through generations. I'm a religious person. I'm just gonna say it. I definitely do not believe in tabula rasa or any of that overly-optimistic, unrealistic, humanistic... stuff. There are tons of examples of kids doing crap things and good kids growing up to do crap things. When it comes to the human condition, I'm a pessimist through and through. Still, here we have a good question being posed here - once again asking whether kids are gonna struggle with the same things their parents struggle with. Going deep.

5) And with the third question, Francis decides he's not a believer of original sin or kids struggling with the same problems that their parents have done (although Francis himself is a prime example of that in relation to Nicholas...). This is kinda the quiet defining moment of the indie movie of PIF which I have playing in my head - because it is here that Francis in a sense releases his son intellectually and puts his son on equal level with Gabriel's.

It is here that Gabriel, little does he know it, has lost.

Meanwhile...

The Other Ship: Carrying stuffs. Unfortunately burdened with Jerott and Marthe who (sigh, sigh, sigh) are making their way in disharmony to Aleppo.

Jerott is really struggling with Marthe (/his hidden love of Francis) and is getting drunk. A lot.

"Marthe had not perhaps quite the purely detached ability to hurt which Lymond exercised with such care. But with Marthe in every other way it was far, far worse. The eyes, the mouth, the brain, the body through which she expressed her indifference and her contempt were those of a woman he wanted."

Well, see, we already established that Jerott isn't homosexual. He'd die before having sex with Lymond; he's that homophobic. (And yet, we still love him.) BUT... I do think Jerott does have a thing for Lymond. That is, he has a David/Jonathan thing or something even deeper.....? Homoromantic?

So Marthe is like putting salt on an open wound. And, boy, does she know it!

Douche-Woman: Don't you wanna go on a pilgrimage and be like all those other idiots? Mr. Party Pooper: I don't need to do crazy stuff to be a person of faith. Douche-Woman: Hm. So even tho' you have a bad habit of worshipping people like Dark!Angel and GaryStu, you're a person of faith. Mr. Party Pooper: Never said I was. And you're the one who brought it up. Douche-Woman: Join Islam. You'll get a hot woman if you do. Mr. Party Pooper: And you're gonna be my woman?

And this is where things get more interesting. Ish. She says 'no' and adds:

Marthe: I mean, that although I despise the hanging jaw of hunger, I do not intend that the needy should look to me for their banquet. Jerott: To Kiaya Khatun then?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooo! Low blow, Jerott, low blow!

And caught his breath at the look on her face.

Then it changed; and her lashes covered her eyes. She said, "Francis Crawford has much to answer for, hasn't he? I break what is thine, because thou corruptest what is mine? You are wrong. Kiaya Khatun makes her own Paradise."

Of course, Marthe, being a person who craves power and agency, sees within Kiaya Khatun the thing she wants to own and wishes to emulate. This is why she can't understand Jerott - and when she learns Jerott (as Francis has before), Marthe can use him. But that's later on. It's so sad.

"[...] You have met her. Try to tell me you haven't felt the tug of the magnet."

[...]"No," said Jerott. "I felt no attraction."

The smile remained in her eyes. "That was because, perhaps, the magnet was turned in another direction."

Jerott then sees that Marthe is in a way like him. He understands that Marthe's love (or need) for Kiaya Khatun will never be fulfilled because Kiaya is all for Francis. In the same way, Jerott's love of Marthe (and Francis) will never be fulfilled because of Marthe's own desires. Yet, when he tries to comfort her in a friendly way, Marthe rebuffs him.

"He took his dignity and left her; and because he was vulnerable to her as he had been vulnerable to Francis Crawford, he found the same solitary and belligerent salve for his troubles: he drowned them."

And everything continues to go downhill from there.

Lots of Jerott drinking. Lots of wandering around. Lots of Marthe doing what she wants. Lots of troubles on the roads. Lots of bickering.

Marthe: I prefer you, I think, drunk to sulking. Consider. An angel descends with every drop of water and lays it in its appointed place. If it rains, you will be dry, or you will be wet. Why flinch or rebel? Jerott: Because, I'm not a bloody Saracen. Marthe: What a pity. Another difference, I fear, to divide us. Because I, of course, am.

And there we come to the saddest thing about Marthe. Not that she's a Muslim - but why she's a Muslim. Basically, she's a Muslim because they open and honest about the fact that they treat their women as being not equal to the men.

"What better hopes have I in Europe? I have no birth, no money, no inheritance, no future. I live from Georges Gaultier's charity, and the caprice of the Dame. No man of ambition will marry a bastard. To marry beneath me is to become a servant; to accept anything other than marriage is to become a plaything. I have little choice wherever I go. I prefer a society which accepts that I have no choice, and does not pretend that I have. I prefer a God who does what he wills, and rules as he desires, and enjoins on me not to prevent anything against its destiny..."

So, unlike Francis (and Nicholas), who will FIGHT TO THE DEATH to change their destiny, Marthe has "given in". I put air quotes around that because in some ways she has definitely not "given in" to her destiny. Now, Francis isn't a illegitimate woman, but Nicholas understands in part... and I think Marthe is really the dark side of Francis and Nicholas... and that is what makes her so sad. Like Adelina and Sophie, she gives into bitterness and despair. Many women in Dunnett's stories reflect historical reality for women - a lack of agency and power, particularly for illegitimate ones. Gelis, Katelijne, Philippa, Tilde and Marian all make their own niche in the world - but Marthe can't.

Because, Marthe of the no-hope, in a very real sense, doesn't see herself as anyone's gift to the future...

Things I Liked In This Chapter:

In Which Jerott and Francis Show Themselves To Be BAMF and the Turks Just Can't Touch This (Well, Aga Can, But Let's Not Go There) and They Blow Djerba's Popsicle Stand and Dinosaurs Raise Their Heads and Roar with Pain as Philippa's Most Recent Move Is Made Known To Francis

Well, let's be honest. During the excruciating Djerba not-so-holiday-stay, which involves questionable-douchery actions on the part of Francis, douchery on the part of Marthe, mimsy-douchery on the part of Jerott and etc, this is probably the highlight.

Of course, Gaultier, Mr. Out-To-Lunch, isn't clued in whatsoever. Kiaya Khatun is surprised (and of course the Aga is too, although the Aga is probably more unhappy to lose his latest boy-toy).

It begins with the Aga Morat setting up some military display for the happiness of his subjects and Kiaya Khatun invites her prisoners guests. Jerott decides to get drunk with the help of a liquor seller (who is really Archie in disguise).

Pause a moment here for: ARRRRRRRRRCCCHHHIIIIIEEEE!!! Ahem.

Jerott and Francis get into a real fight which turns into a fake fight and the whole way through Gaultier is like, "what? what? what?"

Mr. Party Pooper: I'm gonna get drunk. Gary Stu: No, you're not. Mr. Party Pooper: Make me. *they wrestle in a manly fashion* Gary Stu: *whispers* Pretend to be drunk. Pretend to hit me. We're gonna blow this popsicle stand and run off to the sunset together. No homo. Mr. Party Pooper: Oh.... OK. *hits Gary Stu like Watson hits Sherlock but better because Mr. Party Pooper is also Medieval James Bond* Mr. Out-To-Lunch: Whhhhaaaaaaaaa-----?

Then, Jerott, doing an awesome job of pretending to be drunk (he's had a lot of practice), gets involved with the show. Francis joins. I'm surprised Marthe doesn't get in on the action.

After doing awesome Dunnett stunt work, the crowd is won over.

"It was Lymond, with six men on his tail, who leaned down from his stirrups like an acrobat and scooped two from the piled heap of quivers. He threw one to Jerott, nocked, and raced belly to ground for the mark, sending a stream of arrows into the target: as he reached it a man with a staff rode straight at him, and struck. Before he got there, Lymond was out of the saddle. The pole struck empty air, pulling its owner out of the stirrups, and Lymond, dropped under the girth like a spider, swung himself in the same movement into the saddle again, laughing, his hair tangled and soaking with exertion. It had been a boy's trick, Jerott remembered. Standing bareback on your father's horses; somersaulting, chariot-riding. Francis, buried in books, had never publicly attempted it. What private practice, Jerott wondered fleetingly, had gone into that?"

PRECIOUS FRANCIS MOMENT!!!

All together now - AWWWWWWW!!!!!!!

Then it's onward to escape!!! Francis snags Kiaya Khatun for good measure. No doubt he has realized that she likes him and wants to show her a good time. Except Kiaya Khatun wants to deal with Francis in her own good time and in her own way at her own pace. Sooo...

"Yes. You have courage," she said; and twisting, her arm raised like a bucher's, she plunged her blade deep in the neck of his horse."

KRAYKRAY KIAYA KHATUN! Move over, Sarah Conner!

Anyways, Kiaya Khatun achieves what she wants to achieve - she remains behind, she'll free Francis's people, she's delayed Francis long enough and she's sending Francis against someone she dislikes (Gabriel). Like Marthe, she achieves her goals, but I must say, with more style and panache.

Once on the escaping boat (not the Dauphine), it's time to regroup. Everyone is caught up to speed. Lymond hears the worst news of his life:

PHILIPPA IS ON THE RAMPAGE THROUGHOUT ASIA MINOR!!!!

Like the dying dinosaur, our favorite Gary Stu raises his head to the flaring sun and releases a roar of "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" (Like Tamaki of High School Host Club.)

In other words:

"You were under orders," said Lymond, speaking with fearful precision, "to escort Philippa Somerville to her home in England. You tell me know that you have left her among total strangers in a country quite unknown to her, and about to attempt a journey, by herself, into the wilds of Macedonia in order to buy... My God, I think you must be insane," said Francis Crawford; and for a second his voice split, lacerated by his nerves. "A child of twelve, let loose among Turks... what bloody daisy-field at the back of your mind persuades you she'll be safe? The whole thing is a trap. It must be...."

Blah blah blah ad nauseam and so forth.

If Marthe was here, she'd probably love to exacerbate the situation by pointing out that Philippa is in fact around 16. I know I would.

But Lymond's point is taken.

It's too late, however, to fix. They can only, like us poor readers, go onward.

Things I Like