Jester Leaps In: A Medieval Mystery (3 page)

I took the club from her hand and kissed her.

“I prize them too highly to cheapen them by wagering,” I said. “Let’s go pack.”

Never approach a goat from the front, a horse from the back, or a fool from any side
.

JEWISH PROVERB

I
greeted the following dawn on horseback, riding Zeus through the northwest gate of the city.

“Good morning, Feste,” called the guard. “No swim today?”

“The problem with having a horse is that he expects to be ridden once in a while,” I called back. “And this one has to be ridden at the gallop. I’ll see you later.”

He waved, and I loosened my grip on Zeus’s reins. He charged up the road that would eventually take a traveler to Capodistria. The forest soon enclosed us. I reined him to a walk, glancing back to see if we were followed. When I was certain that we were not, I cut through the woods on a little-used path that emerged on the northern road near the cemetery.

A man stood in a small clearing, holding a sorrel mare by its reins. I slowed Zeus to a halt and dismounted.

“Good morning, Malachi,” I said.

“Good morning, sir,” he said, bobbing his head. “The Duchess instructed me to bring her horse to this place, and to turn it over to you. She’ll be joining you for a ride sometime later.”

“Very good, Malachi. I’ll look after the creature. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Yes, sir.” He looked away for a moment. “When you see milady . . . ,” he said, hesitating slightly. Then he cleared his throat. “Tell her that I wish her a pleasant ride.”

“I will,” I promised.

He began walking back to the town, then turned toward the cemetery. “Might as well visit my family while I’m here,” he called, and I waved good-bye.

A small, round, bearded man emerged from the woods and watched him go. Then he turned to me, tears running down his cheeks.

“Explain to me, Fool,” said Viola, for it was she in men’s garb, “why it is that I am sadder to part from my chief servant than I am from my own children?”

I didn’t know the answer, so I kept silent.

She pulled out several saddlebags from her hiding place, and we loaded up the two horses and mounted. She looked down the hill toward her home. “Oh, God, Feste. Am I making the right choice?”

“There’s no way of knowing,” I said. “You can still turn back.”

She shook her head quickly, and spurred her horse north. I caught up with her and we galloped on, side by side.

We had decided that it was safer to travel as two men, rather than as a man and a woman. I knew how capable Viola was with the sword she wore, but your average ruffian lacked that knowledge. Two men, like it or not, would seem slightly more intimidating to those who would seek to waylay us.

“Besides,” she had said when we reached this conclusion, “if things get to that point, I’d rather die quickly as a man than slowly as a woman.”

As the northern ridge rose in front of us, we came to a path that went east. We rode along the base of the ridge until we came to the upper bridge over the river.

“Why did you want to take this route?” she asked as we crossed.

“I didn’t think your loving sister-in-law would approve of us running off like this,” I replied. “She’ll send Captain Perun after us as soon as she finds out. I figure that he’ll follow my lead to the northwest, while we, in the meantime, will be cutting down to the south road.”

“I see,” she said, slowing her horse to a walk. “There’s just one problem with that plan.”

“What’s that?”

“That’s Perun waiting for us up ahead.”

The captain was seated on a piebald steed. Both were in full armor. When I first returned to Orsino, Zeus and I had beaten him in a race. I heard that afterward he spent half a year’s wages seeking a superior horse. I suspected that this one could match mine, stride for stride.

Perun was alone. This frightened me more than if he had the entire guard with him. At least there would have been witnesses. There was no love lost between us, despite a hard-earned respect for each other’s abilities. Indeed, his appearance in our chosen path moved him up another notch in my estimation.

As we approached him, he saluted us. We came to a stop, our horses almost nose to nose with his.

“Good morning, Fool,” he said. “And milady, I believe?”

“Captain,” acknowledged Viola.

“I thought you might wish to partake of a little something before you left,” he said. “I took the liberty of preparing a light repast. Forgive the meager choice, but I had such short notice.” He pointed to his left. There was a table set up, a cloth draping it, with settings for three. He dismounted and stood by the head of the table.

“I am a bit hungry,” I said. I stood at the opposite side of the table. Viola joined me. There was a pitcher of wine, three goblets, a basket with a cooked chicken, and a loaf of bread.

“I am forced to be both carver and butler,” he said, pouring the wine. He lifted his goblet. “To your good health, and success on your upcoming venture.” He drained it, then looked quizzically at us and our untouched wine.

“Surely you don’t think me that crude,” he sighed. “Shall I be taster as well?” He picked up our goblets and took a sip from each. “Satisfied?”

“Yes,” said Viola. “I drink to the Duke.” She drank. I joined her.

“What venture, Captain?” I asked as he sliced the bread.

“I’m not sure, and I truly don’t care,” he replied. “My spies weren’t close enough to hear your little chat with that overdressed warbler. But my responsibility is for the security of Orsino. When the Duke’s mother reverts to her old habit of dressing as a man and then runs off with the village idiot . . . .”

“Fool, please.”

“Then the scandal could suggest to our enemies that we are weak, perhaps worthy of chastisement. Or even conquest.”

“A bit far-fetched, don’t you think?” said Viola, digging into the chicken. “I’m of no consequence here.”

“You’re the Duchess of Orsino and the Duke’s mother. Still of marriageable age, and therefore still of strategic value to the city.”

“Not anymore,” she said. “We’re married.”

He was unfazed by the news. “Odd. I don’t remember receiving an invitation.”

“It was a private ceremony,” I said.

“Conducted by that crazy hermit in the woods, I suppose. Such unions are of dubious validity, milady. Did you really expect to sneak off like this without any repercussions?”

“I left letters with my maid for each of my children. Mark and Celia will know everything within the hour.”

He reached inside a pouch and pulled out two scrolls. “You mean these?”

“You had no right!” she shouted. Odd to hear such feminine fury emanating from a bearded face.

“Nevertheless, I have them. Quite beautifully written. I was almost moved. I may even give them to your children.”

“When?” I asked. “What are you looking for? You obviously want something. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here alone.”

He nodded. “I was wondering when you would ask. It’s very simple. Right now, you are both under the Duke’s protection. How long that will last depends on how he reacts to the news of your happy nuptials. These letters certainly would help your case. Promise me one small thing, and I’ll see that they’re delivered.”

“What is it?”

“Wherever it is that you’re headed, Fool, stay there. Don’t come back to Orsino.”

“And my wife?”

He grimaced at the word. “She is the Duke’s mother. I’ll use my influence to guarantee her safety anytime that she wishes to return. Perhaps they’ll even let her wander in the courtyard on pleasant days rather than penning her up for this fit of madness. Go and have your little adventure, Duchess. You won’t last, I promise you. And then come back to us where you’ll be safe.”

Viola reached for the pitcher, poured wine for herself and me, then lifted her goblet.

“To our journey, my loving husband,” she said, and drank. I did as well. She turned to Perun.

“We thank you for your hospitality, Captain,” she said. “But
I think that you have underestimated my resolve. I take my leave of you.”

She mounted her horse. I swung myself onto Zeus, and we galloped off.

“Wait, I’ve packed you a lunch!” called Perun, and his laughter followed us out of the environs of Orsino.

“Well played, milady,” I commented as we picked up the south road.

“Thank you. Imagine his chagrin when he finds out those weren’t the real letters. I never did trust that girl.”

“Where did you leave them?”

“Celia’s is under her pillow. Mark’s is on his chessboard. He’ll have it before Perun gets back.”

“How do you think he’ll react?”

“He loved his father, but he loves you, too. I think he’ll like the idea, even though he won’t be able to admit it officially. And by the time we get back, he’ll no longer have a regent telling him what he can and cannot do.”

We forded the stream that marked the southern boundary of Orsino’s domains.

“Which way now?” she asked.

“We’ll follow the coast to Durazzo, then cross along the Via Egnatia to Thessaloniki.”

“Why not just cut west over the mountains? Wouldn’t that be quicker?”

“Not necessarily, and certainly more dangerous. There’s all manner of bandits and rogue soldiers up in the mountains. If we stick to the main road, we’ll be able to go from town to town in daylight, and spend the night under a roof. With luck, we may fall in with a group making a pilgrimage.”

She looked up through the canopy of leaves at the blue sky
and breathed deeply. “I don’t need a roof, you know. I’m a fool’s apprentice. I practiced last night.”

“How?”

“I slept on the cold, hard floor.”

“Completely incorrect, Apprentice. A fool never turns down the chance at a bed when one’s available. There will be all too many opportunities to sleep on the ground.”

The first arose that night, as it turned out. The road down the coast was relatively deserted, so we found a comfortable spot in a stand of pine, hobbled the horses, and ate. We didn’t bother making a fire. The food we had was fresh from the town, but we had laid in enough dried meat and biscuit to tide us over should we find ourselves far from taverns and hostels.

We spread out our bedrolls and settled down as the moon came up. Viola nestled into me. The nestling gave way to snuggling, which in turn led to an actual worrying. Finally, gasping, I gave in.

“But please, I beg of you,” I panted. “Take off the damn beard.”

Reality set in the next morning in the form of a rainstorm, but it failed to dampen our spirits in the least. I can’t say that the horses shared our happiness. Maybe we should have hobbled them closer together, but I took no responsibility for Zeus’s love life.

It was a new sensation, this feeling of contentment. A jester’s life tends toward melancholy abetted by drunkenness, and I had been a prime example in my time. Yet here I traveled with a loving companion in the middle of spring, singing as we rode, and I could think of nothing in the world that I’d rather be doing, including the events of the previous night.

The singing was by way of instruction, of course. While you can’t practice juggling on a horse—well, actually, I can, but nevertheless—it
was ideal for teaching her songs and dialogues, switching languages at a moment’s notice. Viola dropped her singing voice down to the low end of its range. I thought in a pinch that we could pass her off as a castrato, although the beard might present problems.

When we came to any decent-sized town, we set up in the market, and I entertained while she watched the horses and passed the hat. A short routine without tumbling, as I was still working my leg back into shape. After a few such performances, she picked up my lute and started accompanying me. I added improvisational composition to my growing list of her skills.

“You don’t seem to be in a particular rush to reach our destination,” she observed after lunch one day as we practiced some four-handed juggling.

“There’s no great urgency,” I replied. “Whatever happened to my colleagues happened six months before the Guild decided to send me. It will be eight months by the time we get there. I’m going there to find out what happened, not to save anybody in the nick of time.”

She looked at me through the flurry of clubs between us. “You think they’re all dead.”

“Most likely.”

“What exactly are we supposed to do when we get there?”

“Find out what happened. Make Constantinople a safe place for fools again.”

“If someone’s out to kill fools, then he’ll try to kill you.”

“Most likely. That’s one of the reasons the Guild is sending me.”

“Because they don’t like you?”

“No, Apprentice. Because I have a talent for survival. Besides, I’ll have you watching my back.”

“Won’t they try to kill me as well?”

“Perhaps. But you’ll have me watching your back.”

“What if they go after both of us at the same time?”

“Then we use Routine Eleven. Which we should practice some more.”

It was mid-May, the year of our Lord 1202, when we left Orsino. A week’s ride brought us to Durazzo and the Via Egnatia, which was still a good road these many centuries after the Romans built it to carry their armies east to conquest. Many armies have used it since, not all of them heading east and not all of them Roman. The people who build roads sometimes forget that they run both ways.

The ride east was almost without incident, but the incident that did take place was significant. We were riding through the most mountainous part of the journey to Ochrid when I motioned to Viola to rein her horse to a slow walk.

Two men blocked the road ahead of us. They wore scraps of armor, leather and iron, pieced together by thongs and cords, gleaned from whatever battlefields they had fled. Each had a short sword and a long knife at his waist.

“We’re in trouble,” I muttered.

“There’s only two of them,” said Viola softly.

“It’s not the two in front that I’m worried about,” I replied. “It’s the five coming up behind us.”

“Oh,” she said, glancing behind her. “We’re in trouble. How do we get out of it? Fight our way through?”