Thirteenth Night (13 page)

She leaned forwards conspiratorially. “She's a foreigner, for one thing, and for another, she's a little odd. Do you know the story of how she became Duchess?”

“Yes,” I said quickly in an attempt to forestall yet another retelling. She pouted prettily but moved on.

“In any case, the Five Families will want to give the responsibility to a native-born Orsinian. And I happen to be the wealthiest member of the Five Families. Need I say more?”

“I understand completely. And how would Your Grace feel about two shiploads of spice coming ashore here to evade the Venetian tariffs?”

“Would cinnamon be included?”

“I expect that it would.”

“Then with a reasonable fee to the Duke and the town, all I would require is an annual chest of cinnamon. I simply adore it.”

“Done, Milady. And perhaps some exotic scent on the next trip to add to your already intoxicating allure.”

“My dear German, you astound me. I think I shall send my husband to Jerusalem and keep you here.”

“We each have our Holy Lands to conquer, Milady.”

A hoarse bellow from above echoed through the house, stifling the raucous cries of the children. Olivia barely glanced up.

“Sebastian's up,” she said curtly. “Perhaps you had better leave.”

“But he and I met last night,” I protested.

“I promise you that he will have no memory of it. I'll have my steward show you out. You may wish to discuss the details of your proposition with him. The proposition about the spice, I mean. Ho, Fabian!” He appeared so quickly that I knew that he had heard every word. And she knew it as well and didn't care. “Treat this stranger well, Fabian. We may have much to profit by his desires.”

“Of course, Countess,” he said, making an impressively deep bow.

“Signor Octavius, you mentioned the arrival of another stranger. Pray, share that last bit of gossip if you would.”

“Certainly, Madam,” I said, rising and bowing in turn. “A jester from Toledo appeared in the square. Marvelously witty and a skillful juggler. Perhaps he could entertain your children.”

“Perhaps,” she said, frowning. “It's an odd omen.”

“How so, Milady?”

“In my life, jesters have appeared when there's been a death. Have you ever noticed that, Fabian?”

“Certainly Your Ladyship speaks truly,” he replied in his most obsequious fashion. “That drunk Feste after the death of your brother, and now this fellow after the death of the Duke.”

“Two jesters only, and you see a pattern?” I said laughingly. “I need much more proof before I accept this as an omen.”

“Still, the timing is odd,” she insisted. “Seek out this fellow, Fabian, and find out his purpose.” He bowed, then escorted me out.

As we reached the gate, I asked him, “Is she always so superstitious?”

“Don't underestimate her,” he warned. “She has the best mind in town, excepting possibly the Duchess.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And in the calculation of power, she surpasses her. Do you know where this fool resides?”

“I believe he said he would try the hostel. Perhaps you could find him better accommodations. The acquisition of a fool can be useful, in my experience.”

“The acquisition of any man can be useful,” he replied expectantly. I flipped him a coin, and he bowed at an angle calculated to reflect precisely the size of the bribe. “I am happy to make your acquaintance, Signore. Two ships, I believe. Of what tonnage?”

We walked to the square as I spun a web of mercantile lies. He had an office near that of Claudius and Isaac, furnished much more elaborately. The steward's tastes were expensive, I noticed, but he knew his business. I wondered if he would replace the Duke's steward if the Countess became regent.

I returned to the Elephant and had a light supper by myself in a corner of the room. I then went upstairs to find Bobo dozing contentedly on my bed. I kicked him gently, and he sprang lightly to the floor, dagger in hand.

“You'll have to do better than that, my lad,” I chided him. “A proper assassin would have had you filleted, breaded, and in a pan by now.”

“That is not how one cooks a fool,” he protested. “We're supposed to be marinated. In any case, no one saw me come in, and since no one knows you're a fool, I assumed this room would be safe enough for a nap. How was the Countess?”

I told him of my encounter.

“Could anyone there be Malvolio?”

“I did not see the rest of the household,” I confessed. “But on further entry I may discover more. Any luck with the Duchess?”

“Yes and no. I performed before the children of the house, including the young Duke, I'm happy to say. He seems to be on the mend. His nurse thanked me profusely afterwards, said it was the first time she had seen the boy smile since his father died.”

“I'm glad to hear it. Did you speak to the Duchess?”

“I paid my respects. She was heavily veiled and remained aloof. She did not speak but handed me a silver coin at the end and had them feed me in the kitchen. Quite the elegant lady. I didn't learn much in the kitchen. The doctor had been in to see the boy, but he's there every day. The servants don't think much of him. One said the night Orsino died and Mark took ill, it took the Duchess over an hour to find the doctor. She tracked him down to the bed of some stable wench who could give him many a disease to practice upon. They have been plying the lad with broths, which has probably done him more good than anything.”

“I wish we could approach her,” I said. “I think she needs to be warned.”

“Difficult,” replied my colleague. “She is well shielded, by position, by walls, by gates, and by veils. How shall we broach her?”

“In the open,” I said.

“But she's never without an escort.”

“I have a hunch,” I said. “Care to join me?”

He glanced out the window. The sun was below the horizon, still shooting its rays into the distant clouds. “It's cold, it's dark, and it's going to snow again. I suppose that means we're going outside.”

“Yes.”

“Because we're fools.”

“Exactly.”

*   *   *

Shortly thereafter, we were perched on a rooftop overlooking the villa from the north. Lights within were doused and shutters closed. Soon the dull glow of the fireplaces provided the only signs of life within.

Bobo shivered inside his cloak. “Has there ever been a winter this cold?” he muttered. “Explain why we are here before I set myself on fire.”

“The Viola I knew was a woman of immense passion,” I said. “She gave herself over to Orsino wholly, without hesitation. I was told that since his death she has gone every day to his grave, yet I haven't seen her do so. I expect she visits nightly, now, and in secret. We watch for her, and accost her.”

“And her bodyguard cuts us in half,” said Bobo. “Why can't we just drop her a note?”

“A note may be seen by other eyes.”

“And a midnight assignation heard by other ears. Will you reveal yourself as Feste?”

“That wouldn't be revealing myself. Just someone I was for a while.”

“And now he's gone. Will he return?”

“He's been summoned. Called forth by a malevolent spirit.”

He shivered again. “We should have brought a bottle of wine to stave off the chill,” he said.

“We did,” I replied, producing one from under my cloak. We passed it back and forth, savoring it, making it last.

“Where did you live when you were Feste?”

“Over there, by the old church.”

He looked at the unfinished cathedral, the skeletal scaffolding visible behind the completed façade. “Looks grand but a bit drafty,” he commented.

Midnight came, but Viola did not.

“Home,” I said finally, and we climbed down as quietly as we could.

“Anything left in there?” he asked suddenly.

“Yes,” I said glancing at it.

“Then drink it and sing,” he commanded, and he launched into a bawdy tune.

I joined in, slurring my words and staggering as we came upon Perun on his not fast enough steed.

“Ish the Captain,” I cried, and bowed low, falling into the snow as I did.

“Good evening, Your Excellency,” said Bobo. “He's had a bit too much. I was just bringing him to his lodgings, but he can't remember where they are.”

I regained my feet, spitting snow and weaving slightly.

“He's at the Elephant,” said Perun. “And you're at the hostel. If I find either of you out on my next circuit, I'll clap you in irons.” We both bowed and carried on.

“We'll have to team up when this is over,” whispered Bobo. “I'll take you back to Toledo with me. One plays the sot, one plays the fool.”

“Who's playing?”

E
IGHT

Ascend with the greatest sagacity from the earth to heaven, and then again, descend to the earth, and unite together the powers of things superior and things inferior. Thus you will obtain the glory of the whole world, and obscurity will fly far away from you.

FROM THE PRECEPTS OF HERMES TRISMEGISTUS

 

“Here, let me help,” I said.

Sir Andrew was splayed upon a patch of ice, an armful of firewood scattered about him. I started picking it up as he rubbed his nose.

“Not broken this time,” he pronounced cheerfully. “There's a bit of luck. Thank you. My man is running some errands for me this morning, and I had to pick up the firewood myself. And now I have to pick it up again.”

I had already done most of it. He graciously snatched the last piece from the ground and beckoned me on, making no effort to take back the rest of the load. “You wished to see my laboratorium, I believe. Come by now, and then we can have a bit of lunch afterwards.”

I nodded, feigning enthusiasm. He led me to a small house near the northern gate, then around it to a poorly constructed outbuilding that was emitting a dark, noisome smoke.

“Coming along nicely,” he said, sniffing it appreciatively. He pointed to the top of the door, and I saw a crude iron cross nailed to it. “Keeps out the demons,” he said. “Works beautifully. We haven't had one since I put it up.”

“Had you been having much trouble with them before then?” I inquired.

“No,” he admitted, “but you can't be too careful. We are dealing with dark and dangerous forces here, just the sort of thing they like. No point in tempting fate.” He kicked the door open and ducked inside.

Jesus, Master of Fire, I thought as I looked around. There were many fires in that stifling shack, fires that heated small furnaces, a kerotakis made of bronze with a small bronze pelican on the rim from whose beak a chunk of iron was suspended in some noxious spew or other; fires under alembics, fires under flasks both open and sealed, filled with liquids that bubbled, hissed, and spat. Smoke, fumes, and vapors of varied hues mingled in the air, causing my eyes to water and my very skin to burn, though no fire reached it. Fires tended by several small boys who glanced up fearfully as we entered, having leapt back to work seconds before our arrival. They were all covered with soot and so enshrouded by the smoke that I wouldn't have been surprised if they had been cured like hams. One had a sneezing fit that went on throughout our visit and threatened to continue to eternity. The entire room was an assault on all of the senses, individually and collectively. Its master beamed about, his pale visage mirroring the skull that grinned back from atop a pedestal at the other end.

“A little more wood on that fire, Lucius,” he commanded. “No, dip it in the bucket first. That needs to be a slow heat. Philip, I pay you to pump that bellows, not to watch it. Thank you. Here, I brought you this.” He tossed his single piece of wood at the boy, who caught it adroitly and stacked it on a pile next to his station. I dumped the rest of it on top.

“The level of heat is always a difficulty,” he informed me. “The Principles laid down by the divine Hermes Trismegistus can be frightfully obscure, especially when there's no real way of measuring how hot things are, short of sticking one's hand into the flames themselves, which is certainly something I don't plan on doing again.” He was rubbing his left hand absentmindedly as he said this, and I could see where an old burn scar crawled under the sleeve.

“Yet he had to make it obscure,” I replied. “If not, anyone could rediscover his findings instead of just the chosen few. It would debase the very quest to make it obvious.”

“Of course, of course,” he said. “Well, friend Octavius, how do you like it? All the latest equipment, and a full range of substances to assay. I have spent many years and a small fortune to reach this point. But soon I hope to have my reward.”

“Already? Then you think you have found the Stone?”

He waved at a portion of the table that was heaped with stones of all shapes, sizes, and colors. “Perhaps it lies there even now. Perhaps it is nestled safely under the new snow until spring comes. The point is, I am ready for it to be found.”

“I see. Then you would have no interest in examining this?” I said, removing an ordinary-looking rock from my pouch.

He snatched it eagerly from my hand, holding it up to a lantern suspended from the ceiling that futilely attempted to shine through the smoke. “Where did you get this?” he asked, turning it round and round.

“In Cairwan, in the Dominion of the Almohads,” I replied.

“It's traveled all the way from there?” he gasped in amazement.

“Even farther. It was brought by caravan from deep within Africa, where it had been buried with holy ceremony by a magician of great power and watered with the blood of sacrificial victims and aborted embryos. Or so said the man who sold it to me.” I have often found that you can attribute the most outlandish stories to the African interior and you will be readily believed by Europeans.