Fool Chapter 22

TWENTY-TWOAT THE WHITE TOWERTosser cried the raven.No stand by was he in my stealthy entry to the White Tower. Id packed my bells with clay, and darkened my face with the same, but no amount of camouflage would athletic supporter if the raven raised an al offset. I should lose had a guard bring him bulge turn up with a crossbow bolt long forrader I left the Tower.I lay in a sh entirelyow, flat-bottomed skiff Id borrowed from a ferryman, covered with rags and branches so I might appear secure a nonher mass of jetsam floating in the Thames. I padd guide with my right hand, and the cold water felt like needles until my arm went numb. Sheets of ice drifted in the water just almost me. A nonher good cold night and I might hold up walked into the Traitors Gate, preferably than paddled. The river fed the moat, and the moat led under a low arch and through the gate where English nobility had been bringing their family members for hundreds of years on the way to the chopping block .Two iron-clad gates hit together at the center of the arch, chained in the middle below the waterline, and they moved ever-so-slightly in the current. There was a gap there, at the top, where the gates met. non so wide that a soldier with weapons could fit through, but a cat, a rat, or a spry and nimble fool on the shrink side might easily pass over. And so I did.There were no guards at the stone steps inside, but twelve feet of water uninvolved me from them, and my skiff would not fit through the gap at the top of the gate where I was perched. A fool was getting wet, there was no way around it. yet it seemed to me that the water was sh every(prenominal)ow, only a foot or two deep. Perhaps I could keep my shoes dry. I took them off and tucked them into my jerkin, so slid down the gate into the cold water.Great dog-buggering bollocks it was cold. Only to my knees, but cold. And I would look at made it undiscovered, methinks, if I hadnt let slip a rather emphatic whisper of, G reat dog-buggering bollocks, thats cold I was met at the top of the stairs by the pointy part of a halberd, leveled malevolently at my chest.For fucks sake, utter I. Do your worst, but get it done and drag my body inside where its warm.Pocket? say the yeoman at the other end of the spear. Sir?Aye, utter I.I havent seen you for months. Whats that exclusively over your face?Its clay. Im in disguise.Oh right. Why dont you come in and warm up. Must be dreadful cold in your wet stocking feet there.Good metreght, lad, tell I. It was the young, spot-faced yeoman whom Id chastised on the wall when Regan and Goneril were starting arriving to gain their inheritance. Shouldnt you stay at your post, though? Duty and all that?He led me across the cobbled courtyard, into a servants magnetise to the main fort and down the stairs into the kitchen.Nah, its the Traitors Gate, innit? Lock on it as big as your distributor point. Aint no one coming through there. Not all bad. Its out of the c ajoled. Not like up on the wall. Y realize the Duchess Regan is living here at the Tower now? I took your advice about not talking about her boffnacity,43 even with the duke dead and all, cant be too c beful. Although, I caught sight of her in a dressing gown one day she was up on the parapet out of doors her solar. Fine flanks on that princess, despite the danger of death and all for sayin so, sir.Aye, the lady is fair, and her gadonk as fine as frog fur, lad, but even your immobile silence will get you hung if you dont cease with the thinking aloud.Pocket, you scroungy flea-bitten plague ratBubble Love said I. Thou dragon-breathed wart farm, how art thou?The ox-bottomed cook tried to hide her joy by casting an onion at me, but there was a grin there. Youve not eaten one good plate since you were last in my kitchen, have you?We heard you was dead, said Squeak, a crescent of a smile for me beneath her freckles.Feed the pest, said Bubble. And clean that hatful off his face. Rutt ing with the pigs again, were you, Pocket?Jealous?Not bloody likely, said Bubble.Squeak sit me down on a stool by the fire and spell I warmed my feet she scrubbed the clay from my face and out of my haircloth, merciless(prenominal)ly battering me with her bosoms as she worked.Ah, home sweet home.So, has anyone seen Drool?In the keep with the king, said Squeak. Although the guard aint supposed to know it. She eyed the young yeoman who stood by.I knew that, he said.What of the kings men, his knights and guards? In the barracks?Nah, said the yeoman. Castle guard was a dogs breakfast until lord Curan came down from Gloucester. Hes got a noble-born knight as captain of every watch and the old guard man for man with any new ones. Crashing huge camps of soldiers outside the walls, forces of Cornwall to the west and Albany on the north. They say the Duke of Albany is staying with his men at camp. Wont come to the Tower.Wise choice, with so many vipers about the castle. What of the princ esses? I asked Bubble. Although she seemed never to expire her kitchen, she knew what was going on in every corner of the fortress.They aint talking, said Bubble. Taking meals in their old quarters they had when they was girls. Goneril in the east tower of the main keep. Regan in her solar on the outer wall on the south. Theyll come together for the midday meal, but only if that bastard Gloucester is there.Can you get me to them, Bubble. Unseen?I could sew you up in a suckling pig and send it over.Yes, lovely, but I did hope to return undiscovered, and trailing gravy might muckle the attention of the castles cats and dogs. Regrettably, Ive had experience with such issues.We can dress you as one of the serving lads, thusly, said Squeak. Regan had us bring in boys instead of our usual maids. She likes to chafe and threaten them until they cry.I regarded Bubble with steely recrimination. Why didnt you suggest that?I wanted to see you sewed up in a suckling pig, you oleaginous ras cal.Bubble has struggled with her deep affection for me for years.Very well, then, said I. A serving boy it is.You know, Pocket, said Cordelia, age sixteen. Goneril and Regan say that my mother was a sorceress.Yes, Id heard that, love.If thats so, then Im proud of it. It means she didnt need some mangy man for her power. She had her own.Banished then, wasnt she?Well, yes, that or drowned, no one will really say. Father forbids me to ask about it. however my point is that a woman should come to her power on her own. Did you know that the wizard Merlin gave up his powers to Vivian in exchange for her favors, and she became a great sorceress and queen, and be sick Merlin to cessation in a cave for a hundred years for his trouble?Men are like that, lamb. You give them your favors and next thing you know theyre snoring away like a bear in a cave. Way of the world, it is.You didnt do that when my sisters gave you their favors.They did no such thing.They did, too. Many times. Everyone i n the castle knows it.Vicious rumors.Fine, then. When you have enjoyed the favors of women, who shall remain nameless, did you fall asleep afterward?Well, no. only when neither did I give up my magical powers or my kingdom.But you would have, wouldnt you?Say, enough talk of sorcerers and such. What say we go down to the chapel and convert back to Christianity? Drool drank all the communion wine and ate all the oddment host when the bishop was ousted, so Ill wager hes blessed enough to bring us into the fold without clergy. Burped the body of Christ for a week, he did.Youre trying to change the subject.Curses detect exclaimed the puppet Jones. Thatll t each(prenominal) you, you sooty-souled snake. Have him whipped, princess.Cordelia laughed, liberated Jones from my grasp, and clouted me on the chest with him. Even when she was grown she bore a weakness for puppety conspiracy and Punch-and-Judy justice.Now, fool, speak virtue if the truth in you hasnt died starving from your negl ect. Would you give up your powers and your kingdom for a ladys favor?That would depend on the lady, wouldnt it?Say me, for example?Vous? said I, my eyebrows raised in the trend of the perfectly jailor French.Oui, said she, in the language of love.Not a chance, said I. Id be snoring forward you had time to declare me your personal deity, which you would, of course. Its a burden I bear. Deep sleep of the innocent, Id have. (Or, you know, the deep sleep of the deeply shagged innocent.) I suspect, come morning, youd have to remind me of your name.You didnt sleep after my sisters had you, I know it.Well, threat of violent, post-coital death will keep you on the alert, wont it?She crawled across the rug until she was close then. You are a dreadful liar.What was your name?She clouted me on the head with Jones and kissed me quickly, but with feeling. That was the only time.Id have your power and your kingdom, fool.Give me back my puppet, thou nameless tart.Regans solar was bigger than I retrieveed it. A fairly grand, round room, with a fireplace and a dining table. Six of us brought in her supper and set it out on the table. She was all in red, as usual, snowy shoulders and raven hair warmed to the eye by orange firelight.Wouldnt you rather lurk behind the tapestry, Pocket?She waved the others out of the room and closed the door.I kept my head down. How did you know it was me?You didnt cry when I shouted at you.Blast, I should have known.And you were the only serving boy wearing a codpiece.Cant hide ones light under a bushel, can one? She was infuriating. Did nothing surprise her? She spoke as if Id been sent for and shed been expecting me at any moment. Rather took the joy out of all the stealth and disguise. I was tempted to tell her shed been duped and Drool-shagged just to see her reaction, but alas, there were chill out guards who were loyal to her, and I wasnt sure she wouldnt have me killed as it was. (Id left my knives with Bubble in the kitchen, not th at theyd help against a platoon of yeomen.) So, lady, how goes the mourning?Surprisingly well. Grief suits me, I think. Grief or war, Im not sure which. But Ive had good appetite and my complexions been rosy. She picked up a hand mirror and regarded herself, then caught my reflection and turned. But, Pocket, what are you doing here?Oh, loyalty to the cause and all. With the French at our bloody doors, thought Id come back to help defend home and hearth. It was probably best we not pursue the reasons why I was there, so I pressed on. How goes the war, then?Complicated. Affairs of state are complicated, Pocket. I wouldnt expect a fool to understand.But Im a royal, now, kitten. Didnt you know?She put down her mirror and looked as if she might burst out laughing. empty-headed fool. If you could catch nobility by touch youd have been a knight years ago, wouldnt you? But alas, youre still common as cat shit.Ha Yes, once. But now, cousin, drear blood runs in my veins. In fact, Ive a min d to start a war and shag some relatives, which I believe are the skin rash pastimes of royalty.Nonsense. And dont call me cousin.Shag the country and kill some relatives, then? Ive been noble less than a week, I dont have all the protocol memorized yet. Oh, and we are cousins, kitten. Our fathers were brothers.Impossible. Regan nibbled at some dried fruit Bubble had laid out on the tray.Lears brother Canus raped my mother on a bridge in Yorkshire small-arm Lear held her down. I am the issue of that unpleasant union. Your cousin. I bowed. At your bloody service.A bastard. I might have known.Oh, but bastards are vessels of promise, are they not? Or didnt I watch you slay your lord the duke, to run to the arms of a bastard who is, I believe, now the Earl of Gloucester. By the way, how goes the romance? Torrid and unsavory, I trust.She sat down then and ran her fingernails through her jet hair as if raking thoughts out of her scalp. Oh, I fancy him fine although hes been a bit disa ppointing since that first time. But the intrigue is bloody exhausting, what with Goneril trying to bed Edmund, and he not being able to show me deference for fear of losing Albanys support, and bloody France invading in the midst of it all. If Id known all that my husband had to tend to Id have waited a part before killing him.There, there, kitten. I moved around behind her and rubbed her shoulders. Your complexion is rosy and your appetite good, and you are, as always, a veritable feast of shagability. Once youre queen you can have everyone beheaded and take a long nap.Thats just it. Its not like I can just put on the crown and go sovereigning merrily along God, St. George, and the whole rotting mess into history. I have to defeat the fucking French, then Ive got to kill Albany, Goneril, and I suppose Ill have to find Father and have something heavy fall on him or the people will never accept me.Good news on that, love. Lears in the dungeon. Mad as a hatter, but alive.He is?Aye. Edmund just returned from capital of Delaware with him. You didnt know?Edmund is back?Not three hours ago. I followed him back.Bastard He hasnt even sent word that hes returned. I sent a garner to him in Dover.This letter? I took the letter that Oswald had dropped. Id broken the seal, of course, but she recognized it and snatched it out of my hand.How did you get that? I sent that with Gonerils man, Oswald, to give to Edmund personally.Yes, well, I sent Oswald to vermin Valhalla before delivery was secured.You killed him?I told you, kitten, Im nobility now a murderous little cunt like the rest of you. Just as well, too, that letters a flitty bit o coquette toss, innit? Dont you have any advisers to help you with that sort of thing? A chancellor or a chamberlain, a bloody bishop or someone?Ive no one. Everyone is at the castle in Cornwall.Oh, love, let your cousin Pocket help.Would you?Of course. First, lets see to sister. I took two of the vials from the purse at my belt. This r ed one is deadly poison. But the blue one is only like a poison, giving the same signs as if one is dead, but they will but sleep one day for each drop they drink. You could put two drops of this in your sisters wine say, when you are ready to attack the French and for two days she would sleep the sleep of the dead while you and Edmund did your will, and without losing the support of Albany in the war.And the poison?Well, kitten, the poison may not be needed. You could defeat France, take Edmund for your own, and come to an agreement with your sister and Albany.I have an agreement with them now. The kingdom is divided as father decreed.Im only saying that you may fight the French, have Edmund, and not have to slay your sister.And what if we dont defeat France?Well, then, you have the poison, dont you?Well, thats bollocks counseling, said Regan.Wait, cousin, I havent told you the part where you make me Duke of Buckingham yet. Id like that dodgy old palace, Hyde Park. St. Jamess Par k, and a monkey.Youre daftNamed Jeff.Get outI palmed the love letter from the table as I exited.Quickly through the corridors, across the courtyard, and back to the kitchen where I traded my codpiece for a pair of waiters breeches. It was one thing to leave Jones and my coxcomb with the ferryman, some other to secret my blades away with Bubble, but giving up my codpiece was like losing my spirit.I was nearly undone by its enormity, said I to Squeak, to whom I handed the man-portable den of my manly inequity.Aye, a family of squirrels could nest in the extra space, Squeak observed, dropping a handful of the walnuts shed been shelling into the empty prick pouch.Wonder you didnt rattle like a dried gourd when you walked, said Bubble.Fine. Cast aspersions on my manhood if you will, but Ill not protect you when the French arrive. Theyre unnaturally fond of man snogging and they smell of snails and cheese. I will laugh ha as you both are mercilessly cheese-snogged by froggy maraude rs.Dont really sound that bad to me, said Squeak.Pocket, youd better be off, lad, said Bubble. Gonerils supper is going up now.Adieu, said I, a preview of the Frenchy future of my former friends and soon to be frog-snogged traitorous tarts. Adieu. I bowed. I feigned fainting with a great wrist-to-brow flourish, and I left.(I admit it, one does like to lubricate his recurrent entrances and exits with a bit of melodrama. Performance is all to the fool.)Gonerils quarters were less spacious than Regans, but luxurious, and there was a fire going. I hadnt set foot here since shed left the castle to marry Albany, but upon returning I found I was simultaneously aroused and filled with dread memories simmering under the lid of consciousness, I suppose. She wore cobalt with gold trim, daringly cut. She must have known Edmund was back. PumpkinPocket? What are you doing here? She waved the other servers and a young lady who had been braiding her hair out of the room. And why are you attired i n that absurd outfit?I know, said I. Poncy breeches. Without my codpiece I feel defenseless.I think they make you look taller, she said.A dilemma. Taller in breeches or stunningly virile in a cod? Both illusions. Each with its advantage. Which do you think makes a better impression on the fairer sex, love, tall or hung?Isnt your apprentice both?But hes oh Yes. She bit into a winter plum.I see, said I. So, what is it with Edmund? All the black kit? What it was, was she was bewitched, was what it was.Edmund. She sighed. I dont think Edmund loves me.And I sat down, with all of Gonerils luncheon repast set before me, and considered cooling my forehead in the tureen of broth. Love? Sodding, bloody, tossing, bloody, sodding, bloody love? Irrelevant, superfluous, bloody, ruddy, rotten, sodding love? What ho? whence? What the fuck? Love?Love? said I.No one has ever loved me, said Goneril.What about your mother? sure as shooting your mother?I dont remember her. Lear had her executed when we were little.I didnt know.It was not to be spoken of.Jesus, then? Comfort in Christ?What comfort? Im a duchess, Pocket, a princess, perhaps a queen. You cant manage in Christ. Are you daft? You have to ask Christ to leave the room. Your very first war or execution and youre right fucked for forgiveness, arent you? Theres Jesusy disapproval and frown at least and you have to act like you dont see it.Hes infinite in his forgiveness, said I. It says so somewhere.As should we all be, it also says. But I dont believe it. Ive never forgiven our father for killing our mother and I never shall. I dont believe, Pocket. Theres no comfort or love there. I dont believe.Me, either, lady. So, sod Jesus. Surely Edmund will fall in love with you when you become closer and hes had a chance to murder your husband. Love needs room to grow, like a rose. Or a tumor.Hes passionate enough, although never so enthusiastic as that first night in the tower.Have you introduced him to your well special t astes?Those will not win his heart.Nonsense, love, a black-hearted prince like Edmund verily starves to have his bum smacked by a fair damsel like yourself. Probably what hes craving, just too shy to ask.I think another has caught his eye. I think he fancies my sister.No, thats his fathers eye she caught, well, speared, really, I thought, but then I thought better. Perhaps I can help you resolve the conflict, pumpkin. And at that, I produced the red and blue vials from my purse. I explained how one was for death-like sleep, and the other afforded more permanent rest. And as I did so, I cradled the silk purse that still held the last puffball the witches had given me.What if I were to use it on Goneril? Bewitch her to love her own husband? Surely Albany would forgive her. He was a noble chap, despite being a noble. And with that, Regan could have that villain Edmund for herself, the conflict between the sisters would be settled, Edmund would be satisfied with his new role as Duke of Cornwall and Earl of Gloucester, and all would be well. Of course there were the issues of France attacking, Lear in the dungeon, and a wise and comely fool whose fate was uncertainPumpkin, said I, perhaps if you and Regan came to an understanding. Perhaps if she were put to sleep until her army had done its duty against France. Perhaps mercy And that was as far as I got, as the bastard Edmund came through the door at that moment.What is this? demanded the bastard.Dont you fucking knock? said I. Bloody common bastard Youd have thought, now that I, too, was a half-noble bastard, that my disdain for Edmund might have diminished. Strangely, no.Guard. Take this worm to the dungeon until I have time to deal with him.Four guards, not of the old Tower force, came in and chased me around the solar several times before I was tripped up by the constrained step of my waiter breeches. The lad theyd been made for must have been smaller even than I. They pinned my arms behind me and dragged me o ut of the room. As I went backward through the door, I called, GonerilShe held up her hand and they stopped there and held me.You have been loved, said I.Oh, take him out and beat him, said Goneril.She jests, said I. The lady jests.