When the young Vivainne became tall, sharp as a tack and keen as mustard. She decided to fashion herself a brave and ventursome Knight, because it was all so unfair, dull and vicious with it. She asked her Mother, who was also a Knight. No, she wasn’t, she said. I am not, nor can ever be a Knight. Why aren’t you a Knight? Asked Vivainne askance.
Can I become a Knight now? Inquired Vivainne. Ask your father, said her mother.
Vivainne asked her father, May I become a Knight tomorrow? I want some armour with lyrical engraving and gilded epaulets. I need a sharp and proper sword, with a horse and all the leather stuff. Maybe a Skien doo.
No, said her father, Women cannot, said he. Women are not quite so something as men, but I can’t quite remember what.
You gave me a wooden sword! Cried Vivainne, you led me to believe and you have led me astray. Now I feel let down in a big way. Could I be a small knight or half a Knight?
No, he said, A thousand times, No. There are limits, but I don’t know why.
In secret, Vivainne knitted a bomb proof suit with silver lining from cooking foil and dipped her wooden sword in a metallic hue. She set the world upright with bravery, skulduggery, decency and a wry sense of humour. She travelled widely, she travelled left and near, she travelled far and down. In the west she saw suffering and injustice, she saw wild animals in the trees to the east. In the north, she thwarted the evil king and, in the south, she laid off her metal suit and melted in the lazy oceans.
I am become a Knight, muttered Vivainne, I shall sit with the downtrodden in cellars sipping strong liquor and converse with the under nourished over a bowl of fragrant rice.
She, in turn both Guardian of the Cave and Knight Exemplar all at once, practised, in secret and persistently, all the arts. Piano, Swordfish and Shield, Culinary delights, Bravery in the field and Leading an angry bull out of a China shop. Origami, Undergami, Kendo, Szechuan Pepper and First aid.
She gathered a steadfast group of Exemplars, to become serious with, whom act and felt quite Knightly. In quiet, acting in concert, they kept their counsel. Nothing to write home about, nothing to see here, let it lie.
I shall write a letter to another Knight, said Vivainne, To my Father Knight and my Mother who should be a Knight.
Dear Parents,
I am become a Knight, despite the protest. Father, gluing yourself to the drawbridge was ridiculous. Just don’t hang a banner from a bridge on my way home, don’t stop the traffic or withdraw your labour, don’t write an angry missive or throw paint in the gallery. I am not sorry to break your spell, I shall hence forth quest in the wild lands beyond your ken. Thanks for all the fish,
Cordialement
Vivainne de Segur
In the spring, all day long, at the end of the day, when all is said. In the Winter when there was no day, only songs of summer remembered, it was told. In Summer, covered with growth and a little confused, life happened without pause. In the Autumn, time of wild harvest and loud parties, before the hibernation closed. Vivainne, face to the future and ready for anything. Knight Exemplar.
The Guardians of the Cave 