That Long Tourney to Love

"I do not understand why you insist, Hiss; you have nothing to prove."
"I have everything to prove, Iseult."

Several years ago, I was re-watching Disney's 1973 Robin Hood and, though a wonderful and likeable film, it is unfortunately lacking, mainly due to the point that it related little to the original ballads, so I decided that I'd like to do a "re-telling" of the story, making it more literarily/mythologically/historically accurate as well, scissoring in other related literary works (such as Sir Walter Scott's Ivanhoe, Anthony Munday's Huntington plays, William Shakespeare's King John, etc) as well as best aspects of film and TV, from The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938, starring Errol Flynn), The Story of Robin Hood and His Merrie Men (1952, the criminally underrated live-action Disney film, which the animated 1973 version was heavily inspired by), The Lion in Winter (1968, starring Peter O'Toole and Katharine Hepburn), Robin and Marian (1976, starring Sean Connery and Audrey Hepburn), Robin of Sherwood (1984-1986 British TV series), Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991, starring Kevin Costner), etc.

Special thanks to my dear friend nuriaabajo for her love, assistance, and interest in this project.  She is my co-writer and co-conspirator for this romance story, which developed through our long, loooong conversations and discussions.  She made me love this couple, more than I ever could without her! 

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Like most marriages of the time, the union between Sir Hiss of Newbury, Lord Marshal of England and Minister of the Crown, and Iseult of Clare, Countess of Pembroke, was a political one.  It was "King" John, usurping his brother's throne while he was out fighting in the Third Crusade, who arranged his right-hand reptile to wed the avian heiress.  Through the alliance, Hiss would be brought from being a landless knight of minor nobility into one of the richest men in the Realm, acquiring estate claims in England, Wales, Normandy, and Ireland; he also would receive the title of "1st Earl of Pembroke" through the second creation of the Pembroke Earldom and be legitimate in-law to the royal family, as she was the ward of the late King Henry II (father of Richard and John).  Only a fool would refuse such a prestigious offering and, while the prospect of an arranged marriage was indeed unappealing to him, the serpent yielded.  Following the ceremony, however, the scheming (now-brother-in-law) John revealed that Hiss would not gain automatic overlordship of his new wife's properties, nor would he gain the peerage of the Pembroke Earldom jure uxoris ("by right of [his] wife"), without the permission of the King, which technically meant Richard or until John himself officially claimed the throne, leaving him in the position of his wife's "consort" rather than "husband," and thus ensuring his absolute loyalty to the Crown.

Humiliated, Hiss avoided his bride by immersing himself into his work at the Tower of London.  He slept in wicker basket separate from the "love nest" she had built as their martial bed, ignoring her affections, in the hopes of that an unconsummated marriage could lead to an eventual annulment — if approved by the Church, of course.  However, despite his "cold-blooded" treatment of her, Iseult of Clare knew Hiss of Newbury was not as "cold-hearted" as he so ardently desired to appear.  At her urging, they agreed to a "cordial friendship" during the long-drawn wait for the Pope's mandate:  Together, they read and conversed passionately about literature:  She had a love for poetry, language, and folklore while he had a love for history, myth, and legend.  During the day, they would swim together in castle moat or play sports — from quoits, horseshoes, shovelboard, and skittles — or attend the occasional tourney.  At night, they would sit and play board games — from chess, backgammon, draughts, and rythmomachia — until the wee hours of the morning.  She enjoyed playing music and he enjoyed singing.  He taught her how to "snake dance" with her neck and she taught him how to "carole" without feet.  They had jugglers, acrobats, musicians, and troubadours entertain in their home at times of celebration.  He would surprise her with trinkets he would purchase at the marketplace.  She would gift him her own feathers to be used as quills for his work.  He would slither away from the drudgery of his desk when she would surprise him with cornucopian picnics.  He would frequently annoy those around him with his idle prattling of "the Countess says this" and "the Countess told me that," to the point where "King" John himself locked him in a collection chest to silence the insipid serpent.

And yet the faithful day came when Hiss came to Iseult with the "good news" from Rome that a declaration of nullity could be finally obtained to dissolve the marriage; however, to much of her husband's bewilderment, she became upset and shut herself in her bedroom.  She refused to dine, to play (as it was game night), and to give him his morning kiss (atop of his head) before work.  Upon his return, he brought medicine for her sudden onset of "melancholic humour," but found that she was missing, so he waited and waited and waited.  Without word of her whereabouts, Hiss was left forsaken and fretful, fearing the worst for Iseult, unable to eat, sleep, or concentrate for many days, until a personal letter by messenger arrived to inform him that she was safe but without indication from where it was sent from.  With some persuasion (by the use of hypnotism), the messenger revealed that the Countess wrote from Nottingham Castle and was staying with her dear friend and fellow royal ward, Lady Marian of Dunmow, better known as "Maid Marian."  Immediately, the snake sent for a carriage to whisk him from London to Nottinghamshire — and was inexplicably robbed by bandits along the way — to find her surrounded by courtiers and, to his horror, suitors!

With the full attention to declare his love her and to plead for her return home, the serpentine knight approached the Swan Countess but lamentably flustered his words at the opportune moment.  Distraught at his failure, he was prepared "prove" his passions and "earn" her adoration through actions, if he could not muster words.  However, her suitor, the peacock Fulbright of Bellême, 3rd Earl of Shrewsbury, schemed against Hiss, for he desired to possess the heiress for his own amusement and advancement, and manipulated the two's insecurities to tear them further apart.  Frustrated with his rival, the reptile vowed to challenge the peafowl in personal combat in the local tourney.  Donning the helm and leg of a suit of armour, Sir Hiss of Newbury prepared for the contest of mettle much dismay of Iseult of Clare, as this was a blood-sport as lethal as warfare itself.  Yet the snake was indeed a formidable knight in his youth, using cunning rather than strength, and defeated larger, stronger knights by slipping under opponents' armour to strangle and/or hypnotize them into submission.  However, Fulbright of Bellême, wise to his tricks, entered the tournament stage with polished armour too tightly fit to sneak inside and its mirrored shine prevented Hiss from using his hypnotism, for he, too, would end up under his own hypnotic spell.

Their battle was furiously fought and equitably matched, for the peacock was stronger and the snake was quicker, yet neither opponent would yield to the other, despite injury and exhaustion that overwrought them.  After Hiss disarmed Fulbright's weapon, the bird threw dirt in the eyes of the snake and unsheathed a hidden dagger from his gauntlet and conquered Hiss to the ground.  But this victory lasted only moments, for Iseult of Clare charged from the stands into the tournament stage and struck down the dishonourable bird.  Fulbright's hidden dagger and Iseult's intrusion were motioned as "illegal" by its lead jurist, Lady Marian of Dunmow, and the fight was considered forfeit.  However, the result of the fight did not matter to Iseult and Hiss, who pronounced their love for one another at last, as the wife carried off her mangled-bodied husband from the arena.  After a spontaneous, if belated, honeymoon, they happily settled down together their home in London.  "King" John never noticed that Hiss was gone for those many weeks.

Then one morning, months later, Hiss awoke to find a clutch of ten eggs all crowded up their "love nest" — and promptly fainted!

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The relationship between Hiss and Iseult is unique, an atypical romance.  I wanted this particular story to be placed "outside" the usual legends of Robin Hood.  Since Sir Hiss is a character always attached to "King" John, I felt like he needed his own individual tale, because he honestly doesn't do much of anything in the original Disney film — and this was to be Hiss' big character piece!  Their marriage was political one, which was typical for the era, and their romantic courtship happened afterward.  Hiss simply believed a divorce would not change his life; he was under the delusion that, following the annulment, that Iseult and he would still live together, do everything they do together, nothing would change, and the prospect of her running off with another man never crossed his mind.  This resembles the relationship of Professor Henry Higgins in My Fair Lady (1964), better known as George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion, where the character had grown "accustomed" to her, treating her as an intruder first, without the realization that he unconsciously fell in love with her until she was gone.  It's strange that people just never appreciate what they have until it goes missing.  Also, in the story, I wanted "the girl to save the boy" and "she carry him off into the sunset," so there's a dash of Rocky (1976) in there.  Also, swans are rather "evil"; they are aggressively territorial.  If you ever been attacked by swan, you will understand!  I also like the idea of Maid Marian played the "confidante" whose shoulder Iseult cried on, as they are both wards of the English crown, and she then played personal "cupid" to the both of them, too.

During the Middle Ages, a tournament (or tourney) consisted of mêlée combat (either on foot or mounted), which was free-for-all gladiatorial fight made to resemble warfare combat (and just as dangerous, too).  This was the standard between the 12th and 13th centuries; jousting was a later development.  The object was to capture opposing knights so that they could be ransomed, which could be a highly profitable business, as it was for Sir William Marshal, 1st Earl of Pembroke whom I used for a historical model for the character of Sir Hiss, and Hiss indeed made his own personal fortune this very way in my stories.  Also, in a world of sentient, talking animals, the Disney film had no animals riding mounts; the carriages were drawn by elephant soldiers, so I honestly don't think jousting exists within that universe.  (Of course, this brings up the question of what do the animals, specifically the carnivorous ones, eat exactly:  Do the talking lions and talking foxes eat talking chickens?  Would that be considered cannibalism?  In the Disney comics of Robin Hood, there are images of characters with a roasted turkey on the table, so I really can't say!)

The comical "leg armour" that Hiss wears is taken from a concept piece from Disney's Robin Hood (1973) by animator Ken Anderson.  When I first saw this, I laughed until I cried; while I have no idea where the Disney film would have incorporated this hysterical image, I knew I had to add it to mine.  Iseult's dress is loosely inspired by Rhonda Fleming's pink dress from A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1949), but it's difficult to shape it to a swan body and make it "sexy."  But one of the jokes of this interspecies couple is that snakes don't find swans physically attractive, expect their necks.  (Of course, everyone seemed to find Marian "beautiful"...)  In addition, all the games mentioned above, from chess to rythmomachia, were authentic medieval recreational games.  "Carole" is a type of medieval dance, usually done in a circle chain.

With Robin Hood tales are being told every year, modern writers are often forced to find new foes for the Merry Men to fight.  The British Robin of Sherwood (1984-1986) television series had the outlaw battle Baron Simon de Belleme, a sorcerer of black magic who sold his soul to Satan, was killed, and later rises from the dead by a cult of witches posing as nuns; Henry Gilbert's (20th-century) children's books had Sir Isenbart de Baleme, a villain who first threatened to bring fire and ruin to the Alan-a-Dale's sweetheart if she did not marry him and later murdered Marian, and he later appeared in E. Charles Vivian's novel as well.  These characters were all inspired the real-life Robert of Bellême (or Belèsme), 3rd Earl of Shrewsbury:  He was a powerful lord and knight who was described as "grasping and cruel, an implacable persecutor of the Church of God and the poor...unequaled for his iniquity in the whole Christian era"; he lived around the reign of William II and Henry I and was notorious for his alleged cruelty; and in 1102, Henry I (the great-grandfather of Richard I and John I) ordered Bellême into exile.  The stories of his brutality inspired the 13th-century legend of "Robert the Devil," a Norman knight who discovers he's the son of Satan and his demonic instincts propel him into a violent and sinful life, but he eventually overcomes them to achieve repentance.  For my own version of Bellême, Fulbright de Bellême, 3rd Earl of Shrewsbury, because there are waaaayyy too many characters named "Robert" already.  The name "Fulbright" (or French "Fulbert") means "full brightness," which befitted a peacock.  While he is a romantic rival of Sir Hiss', he is also an enemy of Robin Hood — and the old saying goes "the enemy of my enemy is my friend."  Therefore, as a loyalist to "King" John, both Sir Hiss of Newbury and Fulbright de Bellême become (later) begrudging allies.  Hopefully, I will reveal the final design for the Earl of Shrewsbury at a later date.

Iseult de Clare © Diane N. Tran
Sir Hiss © Walt Disney
Robin Hood © Disney, 1973