The Royal Me

Since starting on The Ax and the Vase, I've thought a lot about the point of view and asked myself about it more than once.  First-person is an essentially modern way of telling a story - though it's unquestionably valid, there's a vanity inherent in "I" which is in a way disingenuous to the period.  (It's also something I've been working for years to scrub in my personal life - an ironic observation to make in the ultimate form of *self*-indulgence, a blog, I know.)

First person limits the omniscience of storytelling - but, in Clovis' case, the limitation serves the character in unexpected way.  The limitation provides those blinders a monarchical ruler almost necessarily wears, whether by their own donning or not.  "Must is not a word to be used with princes" Elizabeth I said - and yet, must may be imposed upon them.  Through direct action of those surrounding them, or through the simple working of power - there are those things a prince cannot see.  Will never know, either simply because even the life of a sovereign is subject to mortal capacity - or because not all knowledge may be shared.

There is a plot thread, in Ax, in which a young girl is raped.  Clovis never speaks of her before this event, we don't know her, we scarcely know her existence even provides her a name.  Then, one day, she becomes the crux upon which relationships central in the king's life are forever changed.

We don't really see this girl (her name is Tetrada).  The crime takes place "offstage" and she has not one iota of dialogue.  Before it occurs, she is unimportant to the plot, and afterward she sets in motion things which do not answer to her nor even, after a point, affect her existence.

Tetrada is a catalyst, not a character.  Clovis speaks of her not one bit, and I have wrestled with whether to increase her presence in the novel.  Over time, I have come to the conclusion this should not be done.  (My readers are invited to disagree, of course.)

But here is why I have not developed her.

Clovis is king.  While she is a kinswoman, she is not a living *presence* in his life.  He does not observe her thoughtfully at table, nor consider her relationship to him.  Even in her victimhood (which is in fact itself indeterminate - from the POV of Clovis, she must be the recipient of a rape ... yet it is possible that, objectively, Tetrada participated willingly), the outrage is that anyone WOULD touch the relative of the king.  The law of wergeld sets a high value on her as a childbearing family and community member - but it is her position within the family of *the king* which gives rise to the umbrage and dissolution set in motion by the crime.

First person POV allows me the freedom to leave Tetrada's individuality in doubt.  It doesn't matter - to *the king* - whether she was seduced, lascivious, or raped.  First person provides - even demands, perhaps - the arrogance of egocentricity.  It removes objectivity, and clarifies brightly just how compromised - and biased - the position of a monarch is.


When I first started writing Ax, I questioned whether using first person was a good idea more than once, and never did quite "justify" it in my mind as I completed the manuscript.  The only conclusion I came to about it was that it did not *fail* to work, and after a certain point I considered myself committed to the choice.  Now, looking back, I can reverse engineer all sorts of excuses onto the decision.

At the end of the day, though, it comes down to an author all to familiar with arrogance and vanity - writing a character whose position positively demands a certain level of personally pre-eminent thinking.  A monarch, outside the niceties and protocols of The Royal We, is in the end entirely about "I".  I think it worked, both to bring Clovis to immediate presence - and to provide some of the bias, limitations, distortions, and self importance necessary to the character of a reigning (and, indeed, acquisitively *conquering*) monarch.