The Lark's Lament: A Fools' Guild Mystery (29 page)

“You certainly are,” said Julien. “But again, how did you know it was me?”

“Because only three men knew we were coming here,” I said. “Pantalan, but I trust him. Laurent, the Viscount’s seneschal, but he wanted me to come here so I could deliver a letter from him to the Countess. Then there was you. You learned on the morning that we left that we were going to Montpellier. And what occurred to me last night is that you tried to send us in the opposite direction to Toulon to find that ruined merchant. I have a feeling that that would have been a completely futile pursuit. Montpellier was exactly where we needed to go to get to the beginning of this puzzle, yet you tried to keep us from coming here.”

“It would have been better for you if you hadn’t,” he said.

“So it would seem,” I said ruefully. “It was you who killed that poor monk and used his blood to paint the line from Folc’s song, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” he said. “I would have happily used a bucket of whitewash for the purpose, but he ran into me and I had to kill him before he raised the alarum. And then I thought, why not put him to use? And that is answer for answer.”

“Hardly,” I said. “Mine was much longer. Besides, I knew yours, so I haven’t gained equal value yet.”

“The successful merchant always comes out ahead in an exchange,” he said.

“There you are,” I sighed. “Another reason why you’re a merchant and I am only a fool. I am left to guess at why you did all this. Avenging your sister, I suppose, for Folc’s tawdry little habit of deceiving her. But to follow it up by killing, just to keep me from finding out the truth? That seems excessive, to say the least.”

“Saying the least is not one of your talents.”

“Now, that’s something a fool would say,” I applauded. “There’s hope for you yet. I think that you somehow found out that Lady Mathilde still lived, and that you’ve been looking for her to kill her for her part in destroying your sister’s happiness. And each man you killed was to keep us from following your path to her.”

He smiled again. “No more,” he said.

“You never married, did you?” I said.

“What?”

“This devotion to your twin sister,” I continued. “There’s something unnatural about it. Folc took her away from you, didn’t he? Twice, now that I think of it—once when he married her, and a second time when he put her in orders. That must have killed you.”

“Enough!” he barked. “No more tales. Tell your wife and that girl to come out.”

“Why should I?” I asked. “You have come to kill all of us.”

“Tell them to come out, and I will make a quick death for them,” he said. “Resist, and I will give them to my men first.”

“That is your best offer?” I asked quietly.

“This is not a seller’s market,” he said. “Tell them to come out, and without weapons. Do it now, or we will put a few bolts into that tent and see what we hit.”

“Very well, Sieur, we have a bargain,” I said.

I turned toward the tent. The crossbowmen were aiming at the entrance.

“Come on out, ladies,” I called. “Everything is all right.”

A pair of arrows whistled out of the woods behind me. The crossbowman on the left went down, clutching his thigh and screaming. The one on the right fell with an arrow through his throat. He didn’t scream.

That left Julien and the other two swordsmen. They came at me quickly, leaving me nowhere to go but the fire.

So, I jumped through the fire.

Julien skidded to a halt just short of the ring of stones. I grabbed the ax that I had thrown to this side and hurled it with all my might back through the flames. Distracted by the fire, he didn’t see it coming until it buried itself between his eyes.

Claudia charged screaming out of the woods like an avenging angel, her sword reflecting the fire, her face a white mask of fury. The ruffian on the right might as well have been facing Saint Michael for all the good his sword did him. She took his head off with one swing.

The fifth man turned and took to his heels, an arrow barely missing him. He vanished into the darkness. Then we heard galloping hoofbeats receding into the night.

The only sounds for a moment were the moaning of the man Helga shot and the crackling of the sausages in the pan. Then the moaning ceased. I walked over and pulled the sausages away from the fire.

“I am afraid they’re burnt,” I said.

“That’s all right,” said Claudia, sinking to her knees. “I’m not hungry.”

Helga emerged from the woods, holding Portia in her arms. Her bow was slung behind her. “The other one got away,” she said.

“Let him,” I said wearily.

She looked at the man she had shot. “Theo?” she said.

I picked up Julien’s sword and went over to the crossbowman. He stared unblinking up at the night sky. I kicked the crossbow away and felt his neck for a pulse.

“He’s dead,” I said.

“But I shot him in the thigh!” she shouted. “I did what I was told! He wasn’t supposed to die!”

“He bled out,” I said. “It happens. It was a good shot, Helga.”

“Oh, God, I’ve killed someone,” she moaned.

“Apprentice!” I said sharply.

She looked up at me as if I had slapped her.

“Apprentice,” I said again.

“Yes, Master,” she said, standing straight and wiping her nose with her sleeve.

“You heard what they intended to do with us,” I said.

“Yes, Master.”

“Specifically, what they intended to do with you,” I continued.

“Yes, Master.”

“No doubt they would have added Portia to the tally of the dead,” I said. “Do you have any doubts that you acted to save yourself from a horrible fate? Any doubts that you saved the rest of us by doing so?”

She took a deep breath. “No, Master,” she said. “No doubts.”

“What would you have done if they had killed Claudia and me?” I asked.

“What?”

“What would you have done if they had killed us, Apprentice?”

She looked down at the man she had killed. “I would have avenged you, or died trying,” she said.

“Wrong, Apprentice,” I said.

“Completely wrong,” said Claudia, coming over to hold her tight.

“If we had been lost, it would have been your responsibility to save Portia,” I said. “We have to know that you would have done that.”

“How?” asked Helga, burying her head in Claudia’s arms.

“By running,” said Claudia simply. “You have to run into the woods as fast and as far as you can, abandon all thoughts of vengeance, even of burying our bodies, but save our daughter.”

“And then what?” she asked, her voice muffled.

“Then seek safety wherever you could find it,” I said. “Find a sympathetic family somewhere and wait until the way is clear, then get back to Grelho or Pantalan for help. Then become the great jester that we have no doubt that you will be.”

“And raise our daughter as your sister,” said Claudia. “Will you do all that?”

“I hope I never have to,” said Helga.

“So do we, Apprentice,” I said. “But if you do…”

“Then I will,” she said. “I promise.”

I pulled her close, hugged her hard, and kissed the top of her head. “You did brilliantly, Helga,” I said. “Father Gerald would be proud of you.”

And so would your mother, I thought. May her soul rest in Heaven.

I started kicking dirt on the fire. “Get the tent packed,” I told them. “We have to leave.”

“Do you think that last man will go for help?” asked Claudia.

“I doubt it,” I said. “But there’s no point in hanging around here.”

Helga and Claudia struck the tent quickly and tossed it onto the wain. I finished smothering the fire and went through the pockets of the dead men, taking what money and documents I could find. I left them their weapons. Claudia came over and pulled the two arrows from their targets.

“Don’t forget your ax,” she said.

I looked down at Julien, who looked back at me from both sides of the ax-head.

“I wonder if he was any good with that sword,” I said.

“I am just as happy we didn’t have to find out,” said Claudia.

I had to yank at the ax hard to get it out. I took some water and rinsed the blood off it.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to leave that out of our juggling,” said Claudia as I stowed it with our gear.

“I’ll buy a new one,” I said.

We harnessed Zeus and got on the road. There was a decent amount of moonlight to see by. We heard Helga’s teeth chattering in back.

“Come up with us, dear,” said Claudia. “Bring a blanket.”

She clambered over the gear to join us, and we huddled together for warmth as we left our battleground. “Five of them against three of us,” said Helga, still shivering. “What were they thinking?”

*   *   *

My wife was quiet the next morning, sitting on the ground nursing Portia. Helga had finally succumbed to exhaustion and was sprawled across the bundles in the wain, fast asleep.

I squatted by my family. “The baby slept through everything,” I said.

“Lucky for her,” said Claudia.

“Lucky for us,” I said. “They might have noticed you sneaking out of the back of the tent if she was crying.”

“I still can’t believe it was Julien,” she said.

“Just because a man kisses your hand,” I said.

“He paid the price for that, didn’t he?” she replied. “Infidelity comes dear in these parts. One thing puzzles me.”

“What’s that?”

“How did he know the song?” she asked.

“He must have encountered Lady Mathilde and Philippe when they came to Marseille,” I said. “He must have learned something from them, enough to set him on this rampage.”

“Maybe she went to Marseille looking for Folquet,” she said. “That could have brought her to him. But why wouldn’t he kill her there?”

“We’ll find out when we get there,” I said. “The last piece of the story.”

*   *   *

We came to Marseille four days later, and soon entered that now familiar courtyard. We stood on the wain and sang.

Lord of emptiness, King without subjects,

Ruler with no rules.

All hail Pantalan, a jester’s jester,

Emperor of Fools!

Pantalan opened his shutters and looked at us in disbelief. “Oh, no,” he said. “Not again.”

THIRTEEN

Vida e pretz qu’om vol de folla gen

on plus aut son cazon leugeiramen.

[The life and glory that one seeks from fools

easily collapses when it is at its peak.]

—FOLQUET DE MARSEILLE,
“HUEIMAIS NO
·
Y CONOSC RAZO”
[TRANS. N. M. SCHULMAN]

“Julien Guiraud,” said Pantalan in amazement when Theo finished a brief rendition of our adventures since leaving in Marseille. “I never would have guessed.”

“Didn’t seem the killing type?” I asked, shifting Portia to my other breast and wincing as she clamped on extra hard.

“Oh, he’s certainly the killing type,” said Pantalan. “He’s been a successful merchant for years, so by definition ruthless. I just never thought he would carry such a strong hatred for Folquet all this time. I must say, I have always wondered why he never married. Your guess at the attachment to his sister must have been near the mark.”

“Right in the center of it, I’d say,” said Theo smugly.

Oh, the man can be irritating when he is right. Especially when it’s at the expense of my being wrong.

“And you, little chick!” exclaimed Pantalan, ruffling Helga’s hair affectionately. “Your first burglary, your first taste of combat. You have already done more at your tender age than some fools do in a lifetime.”

“If it’s always going to be like this, I might take up farming instead,” said Helga.

“Nonsense,” scoffed Pantalan. “You are to the motley born, my girl. You can be nothing else but a jester, doomed like the rest of us. Why, if you became a farmer, then you would find some dangerously adventurous farming mischief. I have no idea what that might be, but there would be havoc on the fields in no time. So, friends, what is your next step? You found the man who killed Folquet’s drunken colleague, and exacted the appropriate penalty for that little crime. That fulfills the abbot’s mandate, I should think.”

“I would say so,” agreed Theo. “I still want to get the end of the story. That means finding Lady Mathilde and her son and learning what happened after they were banished from Montpellier. And I want to warn them, just in case the mercenary who got away still has their deaths on his agenda.”

“You should lie low and let me make the inquiries,” said Pantalan. “Word hasn’t reached Marseille about Julien’s death yet, but if it does, the authorities might not look kindly upon your explanation.”

“They rarely do,” said Theo. “We will heed your advice and stay here. I could use a week’s worth of sleep, to be honest.”

“Then I will go look for a young man who came to Marseille this past summer, possibly in the company of a mad wraith of a woman,” said Pantalan. “That shouldn’t be too much of a quest. I shall return by nightfall.”

He closed the door behind him. We heard the shouts of the children greeting him in the courtyard, then their laughter at some antic of his. Then it faded away.

“How shall we pass the time?” I asked, turning to my husband.

He was stretched out, fast asleep. I threw a blanket over him and kissed his brow.

“Free time for us,” chirped Helga.

“Not so fast, Apprentice,” I said. “We have been neglecting your studies.”

“I’ve been busy,” she said defensively.

“So have I,” I said. “Let’s start with your Arabic lessons.”

*   *   *

I took a chance later, washing off my whiteface and changing into civilian garb. I left Portia and Helga to watch over my husband, and went to find dinner. There were some smaller markets in the Ville-Haute, so I replenished our supplies and bought extra for our host. On an impulse, I purchased some dried flowers that had a pleasant scent.

When I returned, Portia was crawling happily over her father, who was still lying down but awake enough to grab her at odd moments and dangle her upside down over his head while she shrieked in delight. Helga juggled clubs off in a corner.