The Ballad of Sir Dinadan by Gerald Morris Page A

in the tale would really stand for something else! The hero would be a true Christian. I'd call him the Knight of the Cross—no, that's been used, hasn't it?—the Red Cross Knight. There, that's good. And the Red Cross Knight would fight against all sorts of sins and temptations."
    "So he'd fight against a dragon named Gluttony, or something like that?" Dinadan asked.
    "Well, yes, that's the idea, but I don't think the names should be that obvious. We'd have to call the dragon something else."
    "We could call him Culloch," Dinadan said, musing.
    "No, no. Let me explain. The hearer should be able to figure it out, but not easily. How about Grand-mangeur—from the French for 'big eater.' You see?"
    "No," Dinadan said bluntly. "If you want people to understand the hidden meaning, then why hide it in the first place?"
    "It's hard to explain, but that's just how it's done," Brother Eliot explained patiently. "I'd have the Red Cross Knight fighting for the deliverance of a beautiful woman who would be the one true faith. I'd call her Singulette. For 'One,' you know."
    Dinadan made a face. "Ugh. Sounds like an undergarment. Can't you just call her One Faith?"
    Brother Eliot shook his head impatiently. "You really need to read some of the writings of the Church Fathers. You've no notion how allegory works. You can't call her what you want her to represent. You call her something that will make your reader think of the word you want her to represent. I'll call her Una."
    Dinadan started to speak, then closed his mouth and frowned in puzzlement.
    "Look, it's simple," Brother Eliot said. "Suppose I want to have a knight who represents Foolishness. Well, I can't call him Fool."
    "Yes, I see that. He'd hate it."
    "No, no, I mean that would be too obvious. What we want is a name that will imply Fool."
    "How about 'Tristram'?"
    "Hush. Now we might disguise the word, maybe by turning it backwards."
    "Loof? Sir Loof? 'The Ballad of Sir Loof'?"
    Brother Eliot suppressed a grin, but shook his head. "Not the right feel. So we might use a word that means foolishness in another language. Do you know how to say 'fool' in French?"
    "No."
    Brother Eliot sighed. "Me neither. Well, there's always Latin—that's
stultus.
" He smiled, sheepishly. "At least that's what the Latin master always calls me. So he could be Sir Stultus." He frowned and fell into a reverie. "Or, if that's too obvious, we could turn that one about—Sir Stultus. Or what about Greek?"
    Dinadan interrupted good-humoredly. "I really don't think I have the knack of saying things by pretending to say something else. I just like to tell stories. You'll have to find someone else to write your allegory, and give him my best when you do. Do you think Tristram's awake?"
    "You can look."
    Dinadan stepped into the rough doorway, paused to let his eyes grow accustomed to the gloom, then spied a large bundle on the one bed. "Sir Tristram?"
    Tristram rolled over and looked at Dinadan. There was no recognition in his eyes. "How did you know my name? For I speak it to no one."
    "I met you up the road a few weeks ago. My name is Dinadan."
    "I know no one of that name."
    "Yes, I remember that. Well, we were only together for a short time, and then you got preoccupied fighting some knight named Lickamat or something."
    Tristram sat up with energy. "Sir Lamorak! He is a villain! I should have killed him!"
    "Didn't you?"
    "No, his lady appeared and ordered him to stop. Then she cast some sort of spell, and then next I knew I was alone."
    "Some other time, perhaps. Listen, Sir Tristram, I was wondering if you could answer a few questions. For instance, how did you ever come to love the Lady Iseult?"
    Tristram raised his chin in the air and looked forlorn. "Of that I may not speak. I've taken a vow—"
    "Yes, yes, I know all about that. It's just that it seems so odd. After all, didn't you kill her father's friend and champion, Sir Marhault? So how come she doesn't consider you a worm