In order to reflect more broadly on the various aspects of Flambard’s personality and to allow him the scope to speak in his own voice in private situations, I drew on the long-established custom of dramatic writers – to supply a confidant figure, someone with whom he can have unreserved private conversations which will reveal his thought processes, his instincts, inclinations and impulses. It is a standard practice for ‘showing’ character rather than ‘telling’ it. So I invented a fictional figure, Firmin, a boy rescued from poverty who is raised, trained and employed in a variety of tasks. Throughout The Remarkable Tale of the Bull and the Sheep and After the Arrow their conversations are designed to reveal character traits.
We overhear their first conversation in their lodgings in Windsor in the spring of 1093. As so often, it begins with an oblique question from Flambard who both sounds out and instructs opinion in his young servant. This habit of question and answer forms both the basis of instruction for Firmin and a form of amusement for Flambard. Having just discovered that a monk is writing the life of a ‘Saint’ he is sceptical of its purpose.
Firmin is occupied in writing while Flambard is at a loose end (The Remarkable Tale of the Bull and the Sheep, p. 70):
“Observing for a little while the concentration of his devoted acolyte, the pursed lips, the fixed eye, the studious husbandry of movements, he was seized with a desire to disturb it.
‘Firmin, let me ask you a question. If you were a monk writing the life of a great warrior or holy man, how would you begin?’
‘I don’t understand, master,’ said Firmin, putting down his pen. ‘With a preamble, I suppose.’
‘You would begin where they all begin, Firmin. You would begin with a lie. You would invent some fabulous story about a miraculous dream his mother had before giving birth. It would foretell a life of prodigy or sanctity. Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, the Emperor Charlemagne, St Dunstan, they all had imaginative mothers. Great symbolic dreams are what is needed, Firmin, everything else is easy to fit in after that. The life of a great man or a saint must be fitted out with the fabulous.”
As Firimin’s confidence grows, feels ready to ask questions of his master (The Remarkable Tale of the Bull and the Sheep, p. 162):
“Master,’ he said one day, ‘if you had a little spare money what would you do with it?’
‘In my view, Firmin, money is never spare,’ said Ranulf without hesitation. ‘What does it mean, “spare”? Pointless, ineffectual, without purpose? Such a term should never be used about money.’
Ranulf loved his own railleries far too much and was aware of it. But Firmin was used to them and usually persisted until he got an answer.”
As time goes on, Firmin becomes a useful member of Flambard’s team and a trusted repository of Flambard’s private opinions.
The location of an important conference at Rockingham Castle puzzles Firmin (The Remarkable Tale of the Bull and the Sheep, p. 189):
‘Why choose the chapel for the meeting tomorrow, why not the great hall? You can get more people into the great hall.’
‘Quite so, Firmin. But we don’t need numbers. We need concentrated minds.’
Ranulf Flambard was in a good mood. At Rockingham, the king’s first minister at last felt himself decently housed. A small apartment overlooking the inner bailey and a private garden were at his disposal. From the window, Ranulf could see, beyond the curtain walls, a great hunting park stretching into the broad expanse of Welland Valley.
‘The king loves to hunt here. The forests are stuffed full of deer and boar and many other of God’s creatures who will yield their lives to his shameless bow.’
‘Do you disapprove of the king’s sport, master?’
‘It’s a curious thing, Firmin, but I find myself in agreement with Anselm on the matter.”
The relationship between Firmin and Flambard continues to develop over The Remarkable Tale of the Bull and the Sheep and After the Arrow . I use each character to illustrate the other. The device is centred mainly on their conversations so that the ‘overhearing’ effect might enhance immediacy and drama. In After the Arrow, for example, the level of trust that has grown between them is strongly signalled.
Firmin elects to accompany flambard to prison, having already secretly taken care of his master’s treasure while he was ill (After the Arrow, p. 43):
‘Put me out of my misery, Firmin, what have you done with it?’
‘It is with the clergy of St Paul’s where you were consecrated. You will be pleased to know that they still consider you Bishop of Durham. I sent the chest for their safe-keeping, telling them that it was full of reliquaries and saints’ bones. A holy treasure which they must not part with except on your express command.’
Flambard was impressed.
‘Who else knows the true contents of the chest?’
‘No-one, master,’ said Firmin, showing him the keys.
Almost from that moment Flambard began to entertain hopes of one day engineering his own release.”
So, as Firmin’s character develops and grows we find out more and more about the character of Flambard. Through many following adventures, misunderstandings and dangerous enterprises, they grow in mutual understanding. Perhaps there is even something paternal in their relationship, as when Flambard becomes concerned for Firmin’s future and Firmin’s own wishes.
In July 1106 they are both at Lisieux in Normandy when, for the first time, Flambard broaches the issue (After the Arrow, p. 239)
“One day Flambard asked him outright what he had in mind for the future, since he was now adequately qualified to take holy orders. ‘A post of archdeacon in a bishop’s household could be yours for the asking, Firmin. What is it you want?’
Firmin looked thoughtful for a moment as if he had never given the matter any previous consideration. Then he said: ‘I want honourable employment by the side of a man I trust, master.’
‘Nothing more?’
Firmin shook his head. ‘No, nothing,’ he said. ‘Except an important job to do.’ After a moment he added: ‘Although I have always coveted some trivial unworthy things.’
‘Meaning what, exactly?’
‘An official title, a salary, a servant of my own.’ He hunched his shoulders and raised his palms. ‘No more that that.’
From that moment Flambard stopped thinking about an independent career for Firmin, and Firmin never spoke of it again.”
In a late scene, towards the end of After the Arrow, Firmin has a glimpse into the soul of his master, it is perhaps the moment they come closest, where their mutually revelatory characters touch and Firmin understands something about Flambard that the chroniclers have missed. They are in the Abbey of Westminster, it is dawn on August 2nd 1107, the anniversary vigil of the death of King William Rufus.
As is his customary practice, Flambard honours his former master and kneels in prayer (After the Arrow, p. 283):
“As the prayer went on, Firmin realised that this was not a shallow thing for Flambard. He was in earnest. Seven years after the devastating event, the sudden shock of the death was still with him, the shameful, hurried obsequies, the neglect of proper observances by King Henry whom he suspected, even now, of being deeply implicated in the all too convenient death of his brother. Flambard was one of the few men who had known the king well, known his flaws and weaknesses, his tempers and outbursts. Known too, his unqualified gift for living, his colossal appetite and energy. A difficult man, in every respect, as Anselm had found. But not the wicked reprobate of the chroniclers. What Anselm had sensed in him, what Flambard still honoured, was the magnanimity that many acknowledged and no-one could precisely locate. […] After a long pause, kneeling in perfect composure with his eyes closed, Flambard rose and made the sign of the cross.
Firmin felt surprisingly moved. He had witnessed something he had never seen before. Ranulf Flambard, on his knees, forgetful of the world, in full surrender of himself to God.”
Flambard was in his own time, and remains now, an elusive, shadowy, yet flamboyant character. He offers the novelist many facets of a complex nature, each reflecting something different. Firmin was developed to throw light on some of these extraordinary effects of a complex nature.