The Not-So-Romantic Finale of Twain's Medieval Romance
In 1222 Medieval Germany, Conrad, a young man, ascends to power. But he has one little secret, Conrad’s a woman. At the age of twenty-eight Conrad’s father, the Barren, revealed to him that he has been lying to Conrad along with the rest of society for Conrad to inherit the throne. Just like any society, medieval Germany is governed by a set of laws. The most influential law is that if no male heirs are born to the duke, then the throne will be passed onto his brother’s, the Barren, son. The duke had only barren a daughter, Lady Constance, therefore as Conrad is a “Man,” he shall inherit the throne. There is one other thing the Barren tells Conrad, he must not sit upon the Ducal Throne before he is crowned, as law states if a woman sits upon the throne before being crowned her fate will be death. Conrad reluctantly accepts the duties of becoming the duke. After Conrad leaves, Lord Barren discusses another scheme he has created to ensure Conrad's position, he has sent Count Detzin to impregnate Lady Constance.
Conrad soon wins over the people's hearts and the Old Duke as he rules with mercy, wisdom, and modesty. This frees him of his sorrows, and he feels himself filled with content at his current situation. By this time, Count Detzin had fulfilled his duty and disappeared leaving Lady Constance to find comfort in Conrad's company. Lady Constance confesses her love to him. Conrad cannot reciprocate her feelings. The guilt compounds on him, not only has he taken her throne, but he has broken her heart. Time passes; Constance gives birth to her child. By law, she is being put on trial. The Great Duke commanded that Lady Constance's trial shall be judged unbiased by Conrad himself. The hall was filled with a crowd of nobles alike, and unbeknownst to Conrad his father attended with glee. As Conrad sat upon the premier throne next to the chief justice his eyes filled with tears, his heart with sadness. He tried to make his decree from the Premier Throne, but the chief justice insisted that he could only make his judgment from the Ducal chair. Hesitant but not willing to cause suspicion, sits on the throne. Conrad makes the decry that unless Lady Constance confesses to her child's father, she shall serve the penalty.
Lady Constance, with hatred towards Conrad, decrees “Thou art the man!” And after Corad and Lord Barren faint from shock then...well that is where it ends.
Written before Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer, A Medieval Romance is a never-finished short story by Mark Twain. As he admits, he's gotten his characters into quite a predicament, so much so that he cannot finish the story. Twain washed his hands of the whole ordeal. But luckily, I intend to finish what Twain could not.
Mark Twain
CHAPTER VI. FREED, AT LAST!
Conrad lay sprawled upon the cold stone floor, his breath shallow and ragged. Gasping whispers and murmurs filled the hall, a storm of outrage swirling through the air. His father, groggy from the shock, stirred as an attendant bent low to him. “Lord! My lord, art thou with us?”
The old lord blinked, slowly regaining his senses. His thoughts, heavy with the weight of betrayal, flickered like dim embers. What have I done? It struck him suddenly that his years of manipulation, his careful orchestrations of others' fates, had unraveled, leaving his only son—or rather, his daughter—facing the consequences.
Lord Barren, overcome by the reality of the moment, rose unsteadily from the pew, drawing all eyes to him. His knees trembled as he stood before the assembly, the weight of his years pressing down upon him like a millstone. The chief justice, standing tall amidst the chaos, turned his gaze to Lord Barren. "My lord, do you have ought to say?"
“Please, hear me!” Lord Barren cried, his voice cracking with urgency. “My son—could not have fathered the lady's child! She is a liar!”
A ripple of disbelief passed through the gathered lords and ladies, their eyes widening with shock. The chief justice raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with suspicion. "What say you, my lord? Are these not your words that now come back to haunt you?"
Around this time, the men who had been tending to Conrad’s unconscious body hastily splashed freezing water upon his face, causing him to jerk awake with a start. “Duke Conrad! You live!” one of them cried. “Arise! You must explain yourself!”
Conrad, disoriented and drenched, was pulled to his feet and thrust into the Ducal chair. His heart pounded with dread. No, not the chair! He thought. This cursed seat. It seals my fate—death, dishonor, everything I fear most. The dampness clung to him like his very guilt. I am a thief, a liar, a usurper. He had stolen Lady Constance's birthright from her, taking the throne that rightfully belonged to her, and now, the truth was becoming known. If he told the truth, would he be killed for his deceit? Or would death bring him the peace that living in lies never could?
His father’s voice shattered his inner turmoil. “She lies!” Lord Barren cried again. “She is jealous of my son for taking her throne! He is barren!”
A gasp spread like wildfire through the hall. Whispers of scandal filled the air, but the chief justice silenced the crowd with a sharp gesture. “Enough! The lady herself has done no wrong! But the truth lies in your hands, my lord. What say you of the child born of Lady Constance?”
Lord Barren, desperate to protect himself, fumbled with his words, struggling to untangle the web of deceit he had woven. “I… I sent the man to her. Count Detzin. I thought them betrothed—’twas to be a marriage to cover up the truth that my son was not a true man… He is barren!”
The room was stunned into silence. Whispers began again, but now they were directed at Count Detzin, who had long been rumored to be involved with Lady Constance before Conrad's arrival. The truth began to unfold before their eyes.
Lady Constance, her heart torn asunder by the revelation, felt tears well in her eyes. Anguish, grief, and betrayal washed over her like a violent tide. Had the man I loved, the father of my child, lied to me all along? Her heart now held a hatred for Count Detzin, but her rage burned hotter for Lord Barren. What right did he have to manipulate her life and emotions for his gain?
In a voice trembling with emotion, she cried out, “Then why? Why did Conrad deny my love? If we were meant to marry, why did he crush my heart so? He is the father!”
The eyes of the court turned to Conrad, whose gaze darted about the room in confusion. He was met with the broken, tearful eyes of Lady Constance, and the pleading, accusatory stare of his father. Conrad’s gaze fell upon his hands, clenched in his lap. What have I done? The weight of the Ducal chair upon him felt heavier than ever. He had ruled for but a moment, and yet it had cost him everything. But could he even have a chance to reclaim his honor now? What choice remains but to speak the truth?
With a deep breath, Conrad rose, his legs unsteady beneath him. He glanced once more at the assembled lords and ladies, at the somber faces of those whose lives he had shattered.
“If any man is to die this day, it should be me,” Conrad spoke, his voice steady despite the storm within. He met their eyes, each one of them, daring them to blink first, to turn away.
“I must do what my father cannot. I must tell the truth. I am not a man, but a woman.”
A shockwave ripped through the room. The chief justice stood frozen, and Lady Constance’s face turned pale, her breath catching in her throat.
“I have lied all my life. I sat upon this throne and lied, I stood before you and lied. I am not the father of Lady Constance’s child, and I am not the rightful heir to this Duchy. I know not who the true father is, but I do know this: Lady Constance’s love for me was pure, and I wronged her by not facing the truth.”
“I have stolen her birthright, and for that, I am truly sorry. As for the lies my father continues to weave, I can only guess his motives. He sought to protect me, to shield me from the shame of my true nature. But in doing so, he damned us all. Lady Constance, you are the true victim here.”
The crowd stirred, whispers of disbelief echoing throughout the hall. The image of Conrad, their once-proud Duke, now a woman exposed before them, tore at their very perception of the Duchy’s future. How could their noble Conrad, their beloved leader, have been a lie from the very start?
Lord Barren collapsed to his knees, his face ashen, his hands trembling. The justice raised his hand to silence the crowd. “Order! Order!” he bellowed.
If what Conrad says is true, the only one who can settle this is the Great Duke himself,” the chief justice declared. “We must awaken him.”
The Great Duke, roused from his slumber by the young court justices, entered the hall reluctantly. He had no understanding of the turmoil that had unfolded, but he knew he was needed. As he took his place upon the ducal throne, his eyes scanned the room, first resting on his daughter, then his brother, and finally on Conrad. The chief justice hastily explained the events, while the duke took his seat, his expression unreadable.
The crowd held its breath as the duke surveyed the situation, each of them awaiting his judgment.
“Conrad, you have spoken the truth, and truth cannot be silenced,” the duke said, his voice low but resolute. “Though the law may not favor you now, your courage in confessing the truth speaks louder than any title or birthright ever could. You’ve sat upon the ducal throne as a woman, but you bear the heart of the bravest warrior.”
He paused, glancing towards Lady Constance, whose eyes were filled with both sorrow and understanding. “As for Lady Constance, her honor, her virtue, and her love have been tested in ways none of us could have imagined. The sins of your father, and the turmoil within your hearts, should not fall upon her. But as I am too close to the matter, I shall leave this judgment to the people.”
He turned to the crowd. “The people shall decide. Should Lady Constance be held accountable for the sins of my brother?”
“Nay!” the crowd cried in unison.
“Should Lord Barren be punished for his manipulation?”
“Aye!” came the resounding response.
The Duke nodded gravely, his gaze never leaving his brother’s crumpled form. “Lord Barren, you will answer for your schemes. You will face judgment for the suffering you have caused.”
Lord Barren, broken and undone, could offer no defense. His lies, once so carefully crafted, had unraveled before him, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.
Conrad, though relieved of the guilt that had burdened her for so long, was filled with a new sorrow. Her father’s fate was sealed. He was to die.
But Conrad, in her final act of loyalty, spoke. “Please, do not kill my father. He did all this for me. I cannot bear to see him die.”
“The Barren's fate will not be decided today! Dear Conrad, your loyalty to your father is admirable, but has led to your demise, leave it be girl, at least presently!” The Duke's voice raised, you could feel his anger at the betrayal both Conrad and the Barren had perpetuated.
“There is a more pressing matter at hand. Who will rule this land and who will meet their end?”
The duke’s gaze softened; his eyes drifted to Lady Constance “Daughter, do you wish to be crowned?”
Lady Constance, kneeling, wiped her tears away. “Father, I... everything has grown out of hand. Both the men I have loved to have lied. Yet although I was angry, I must admit Conrad was a fine leader—man or woman. I have never...it was never even an option for me to rule. I would not even know where to begin.”
She turned to Conrad, her heart still raw with the pain of betrayal but now filled with an understanding of the depths of Conrad’s soul. “I am, truly sorry. I would be proud to see your rule. But I ask, may we rule together?”
The duke scratched his grizzled beard thoughtfully, then turned to the crowd. “Can two women rule this land? Should they have the people’s support?”
A murmur spread through the crowd. Could it be? Two women, once rivals, are now united in their shared destiny.
“Why not?” came a young voice from the crowd.
“We’ve made it this far!” an old woman cried.
“Let them be kings!” shouted a child.
A hesitant but hopeful cry of “Aye!” echoed throughout the hall.
The duke, his heart heavy with the weight of the decision, spoke once more. “As for Lord Barren, he will be imprisoned until my daughter decides his fate. As my final decree before I retire—may this land be ruled by those who hold truth above all else. Let justice guide us, not bloodlines or birthrights.”
The crowd erupted in cheers; their voices filled with hope. As the Duke left the hall, Conrad felt a sense of peace settles over her. Today, no one would die. It was a miracle, indeed.
Lady Constance, freed from her shackles, joined Conrad at the front of the hall. Together, they stood, not as adversaries but as equals, before their subjects. The setting sunbathed them in its golden light, signaling the end of one era and the dawn of another.
.....
The dawn of the dragon.
The Great Hall shook as a bone-chilling roar erupted. The hall drew silent once more, before stirring in fear. As the panic spread, the new leaders shared one thought, dragons.
Conrad and Constance’s problems were just beginning.
Work Cited
"Mark Twain." Biography.com, A&E Networks Television, https://www.biography.com/authors-writers/mark-twain. Accessed 19 Nov. 2024.
OpenAI. “Any suggestion to make this sound medieval, also can you edit for grammar?”, ChatGPT-4 Mini. OpenAI, 2024, https://www.openai.com/chatgpt. Accessed 19 Nov. 2024.
Twain, Mark. A Medieval Romance. American Literature. AmericanLiterature.com, https://americanliterature.com/author/mark-twain/short-story/a-medieval-romance/#google_vignette. Accessed 19 Nov. 2024.