Fool (20 page)

“Who’s the muddy naked bloke snogging the king’s noggin?” asked Kent.

I awoke to see the old knight standing in the doorway with the Earl of Gloucester. The storm still raged outside, but by firelight I could see the naked nutter Tom O’Bedlam had wrapped himself around Lear and was kissing the king’s bald head as if blessing a newborn babe.

“Oh majesty,” said Gloucester, “can’t you find better company than this? Who is this rough beast?”

“He is a philosopher,” said Lear. “I will talk with him.”

“Poor Tom O’Bedlam, is he,” said Tom. “Eater of tadpoles, cursed and damned by demons.”

Kent looked to me and I shrugged. “Both mad as cat herds,” said I. I looked around for the old woman as a witness, but she was gone.

“Well, snap to, majesty, I bring news from France,” said Kent.

“Hollandaise sauce, excellent on eggs?” I inquired.

“No,” said Kent. “More urgent.”

“Wine and cheese complement one another nicely?” I further queried.

“No, you rasp-tongued rascal, France has landed an army at Dover, and there’s rumor they’ve forces hidden in other cities around the British coast, ready to strike.”

“Oh, well, that does trump the wine and cheese news, then, doesn’t it?”

Gloucester was trying to pry Tom off King Lear, but having a hard time doing so while keeping mud off his cloak. “I’ve sent word to the French camp at Dover that Lear is here,” said Gloucester. “I’ve made the case to the king’s daughters to let me bring him in from the storm, but they will not relent. Even in my own home my power has been usurped by the Duke of Cornwall. Regan and Cornwall have taken command of Lear’s knights, and with them, my castle.”

“We come to bring you to a hovel at the city wall,” said Kent. “When the storm breaks, Gloucester will send a cart to take Lear to the French camp at Dover.”

“No,” said Lear. “Let me talk to my philosopher friend in private.” He pawed at mad Tom. “He knows much of how life should be lived. Tell me, friend, why is there thunder?”

Kent turned to Gloucester and shrugged. “He’s not in his right mind.”

“Who can blame him?” said Gloucester. “After what his daughters have done-his very flesh rising up against him. I had a beloved son who conspired to murder me, and just the thought of that nearly drove me mad.”

“Do you nobles have any reaction to hardship besides going bloody barking and running off to eat dirt?” said I. “Hitch up your bollocks and get on with it, would you? Caius, what of Drool?”

“I left him hidden in the laundry, but Edmund will find him when his mind turns full to the task. Right now he is distracted by trying to avoid the sisters and conspiring with Cornwall.”

“My son, Edmund, he is still true,” said Gloucester.

“Yes, right, milord,” said I. “And mind you don’t trip on the honeysuckle sprouting from his bum when you next see him. Do you have means to get me into the castle without Edmund knowing I’m there?”

“I suppose. But I take no commands from you, fool. You are but a slave, and an impudent one at that.”

“You’re still angry over my jesting about your dead wife, aren’t you?”

“Do the fool’s will!” boomed Lear. “His word is as mine.”

A slight breeze then would have knocked me off my feet, so shocked was I. Oh, there was still madness glowing in the old man’s eyes, but so was the fire of his authority. A feeble, babbling wretch one moment, the next a dragon deep inside the old man barked fire.

“Yes, your majesty,” said Gloucester.

“He’s a good lad,” said Kent, by way of easing the bite of Lear’s command.

“Nuncle, bring your naked madman and let us go with Gloucester, to this hovel by the city wall. I’ll retrieve my nitwit apprentice from the castle and off we’ll be to meet up with the bloody frog King Jeff at Dover.”

Kent rubbed my shoulder. “A sword in support then?”

“No, thank you,” said I. “You stay with the old man, get him to Dover.” I pulled Kent over by the fire and bade him bend down so I could whisper in his ear. “Did you know that Lear murdered his brother?”

The old knight’s eyes went wide, then narrowed as if he were in pain. “He gave the order.”

“Oh, Kent. Thou loyal old fool.”

EIGHTEEN – KITTEN’S CLAWS

We entered Castle Gloucester in stealth, which does not suit me, as you might guess. I am better suited to entering a room with a series of somersaults, a clack-stick, rude noise, and a
“top o’ the mornin’ to ye, tossers!”
I’m fitted out in bells and puppets, for fuck’s sake. All this sneaking and subterfuge was wearing on me. I followed the Earl of Gloucester through a secret hatch in the stable and into a tunnel that passed under the moat. We waded through a foot of cold water in the dark, making for a slosh in my step as well as a jingle. I’d never fit Drool through the narrow passage, even if I could chase the dark with a torch. The tunnel opened through another hatch in the floor of the dungeon. The earl took his leave in the very torture chamber where I had met Regan.

“I’m off to arrange the passage for your master to Dover, fool. I still have a few servants who are true to me.”

I felt indebted to the old man for helping me into the castle, especially given his former bitterness toward me. “Steer clear of the bastard, your grace. I know he is your favored son, but not rightly so. He’s a villain.”

“Don’t disparage Edmund, fool. I know your conniving ways. Only last evening he stood with me in protest against Cornwall’s treatment of the king.”

I could tell Gloucester about the letter I’d forged in Edgar’s hand, about the bastard’s plan to usurp his brother, but what could he do? Likely he’d storm into Edmund’s quarters and the bastard would murder him on the spot.

“Right, then,” said I. “Be careful, my lord. Cornwall and Regan are a four-fanged viper, and if they should turn their venom on Edmund, you must let him go. Do not come to his aid, lest you, too, are scratched with poisonous pricks.”

“My last true son. Shame on you, fool,” said the earl. He scoffed and hurried out of the dungeon and up the stairs.

I thought to prevail upon one god or another to protect the old man, but if the gods were working in my favor, they would continue unbidden, and if they opposed, there was no need to alert them to my cause. It pained me, but I took off my shoes and hat and tucked them into my jerkin to still the bells. Jones had remained back at the hovel with Lear.

The laundry lay in the lower levels of the castle, so I made my way there first. The laundress with the aforementioned knockers of the smashing persuasion was hanging a basketload of shirts by the fire when I entered.

“Where’s Drool, love?” I asked.

“Hidden,” she said.

“I know he’s bloody hidden, otherwise asking would have been superfluous, wouldn’t it?”

“Just want me to give him up, then? How do I know you’re not out to kill him? That old knight who brought him here said not to let anyone know where he was.”

“But I’m here to get him out of the castle. Rescue him, as it were.”

“Aye, you say that, but-”

“Listen, you bloody tart, give up the git!”

“Emma,” said the laundress.

I sat down on the hearth and rested my head in my hands. “Love, I’ve spent the night in a storm with a witch and two raving nutters. I’ve a brace of wars to see to, as well as the summary violation of two princesses and consequent cuckolding of a pair of dukes. I’m heartbroken, aggrieved for the loss of a friend, and the great drooling lummox that is my apprentice is evidently wandering the castle in search of a mortal chest wound. Pity a fool, love-another non sequitur may dash my brittle sanity to splinters.”

“My name is Emma,” said the laundress.

“I’m right here, Pocket,” said Drool, standing up in the great cauldron. A pile of laundry on his head had been concealing his great empty melon as he lurked in the water. “Knockers hided me. She’s a love.”

“You see,” said Emma. “He keeps calling me Knockers.”

“It’s a compliment, love.”

“It’s disrespectful,” she said. “My name’s Emma.”

I will never understand women. The laundress, it would seem, dressed in a manner that accentuated, indeed, celebrated her bosoms-a tightly cinched waist pushing bits up until they bloomed out of a swooping neckline-yet a chap notices and the lady takes offense. I will never understand it.

“You know he’s a complete nitwit, don’t you, Emma?”

“Just the same.”

“Fine. Drool, apologize to Emma for saying how smashing her knockers are.”

“Sorry about your knockers,” said Drool, bowing his head so his laundry hat dropped back into the drink.

“Satisfied, Emma?” I asked.

“I suppose.”

“Good. Now, do you know where Captain Curan, the commander of King Lear’s knights might be?”

“Oh yes,” said Emma. “Lord Edmund and the duke consulted me this morning on all the military matters, as they are wont to do-me being a laundress and having access to all the best bloody tactics and strategies and the lot.”

“Sarcasm will make your tits fall off,” said I.

“Will not,” said she, her arm going to a support position.

“It’s a known fact,” I said, nodding earnestly, then looking to Drool, who also nodded earnestly and said, “It’s a known fact,” note for note in my voice.

“That’s bloody spooky.” Emma shuddered. “You lot can get out of my laundry.”

“Very well, then,” said I. I motioned for Drool to climb out of the cauldron. “I thank you for looking after the Natural, Emma. I wish there were something I could-”

“Kill Edmund,” she said.

“Pardon?”

“The son of a guild builder were going to marry me before I came to work here. A respected man. Edmund took me against my will and bragged about it in the village. My lad wouldn’t have me then. No one worth his salt will have me, except the bastard, and him whenever he wants. ’Tis Edmund who commanded that I wear this low frock. Says he’ll set me out with the pigs if I don’t give him service. Kill him for me.”

“But lass, I’m just a fool. A clown. A small one at that.”

“There’s more to you than that, you black-hatted rascal. I’ve seen them wicked daggers at your back, and I can see who’s pulling the strings round this castle, and it ain’t the duke or the old king. Kill the bastard.”

“Edmund beated me,” said Drool. “And she do have smashing knockers.”

“Drool!”

“Well, she do.”

“All right, then,” said I, taking the laundress’s hand. “But in time. We’ve things to accomplish first.” I bowed over her hand, kissed it, then turned on my heel and padded barefoot out of the laundry to set history.

“Heinous fuckery,” Drool whispered to the laundress with a wink.

I hid Drool in the gatehouse among the heavy chains that I had used for my escape when I pursued Lear into the storm. Getting the lummox up on the wall and to the gatehouse undetected was no small task, and he left a dripping trail on the stones until we gained the castle exterior, but the guard was light in the tempest, so most of the way we went across the top of the walls unseen. My feet felt as if they’d been set in ice by the time I came back in to a fire, but there was no other way. Drool in the tight space of the secret tunnel, with his fear of the dark was not something I would wish on an enemy. I found a woolen blanket and wrapped the lout in it to await my return.

“Guard my shoes and my satchel, Drool.”

I made my way, dodging from nook to cranny, through the kitchen, to the servants’ entrance into the great hall, hoping I might get a moment with Regan there. The hall’s massive fireplace would be an enticement for the princess on such a frigid day, for as much as she took to the activities of a dungeon, she was drawn to heat like a cat.

Because Castle Gloucester had no curtain wall, even the great hall was fitted with arrow loops, so the edifice might be defended at all levels from an attack by water. The arrow loops, while shuttered, were notoriously drafty, so arrases were hung over the alcoves against the wind-the perfect place for a fool to watch, warm himself, and find his moment.

I slipped into the room behind a brace of serving girls and into the alcove nearest the fireplace. She was there, by the fire, in a heavy, hooded, black fur robe, only her face revealed to the world.

I pulled the tapestry aside and was about to call to her when the latch was thrown on the hall’s main doors and the Duke of Cornwall entered, wearing his usual finery with the red lion crest on his chest, but more pointedly, Lear’s crown-the one the old man had thrown on the table that fateful night at the White Tower. Even Regan seemed startled to see it on the head of her husband.

“My lord, is it prudent to wear the crown of Britain when our sister is still in the castle?”

“Right, right, we must keep up appearances as if we don’t know that Albany raises an army against us.” Cornwall took the crown off and hid it under a cushion by the hearth. “I am to meet Edmund here and lay a plan for the duke’s undoing. One hopes that your sister can be kept out of harm’s way.”

Regan shrugged. “If she throws herself under destiny’s hooves, who are we to save her brains from being pulped?”

Cornwall took her in his arms and kissed her passionately.

Oh lady,
thought I,
push him away lest you debase your lovely lips with villainy.
Then it occurred to me, and perhaps rather later than it should have, that she would no more taste villainy than a garlic eater will taste the stinking rose on another. The lady had evil on her breath already.

Even as the duke held her tight and professed his adoration of her, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve behind his back. She pushed the duke away when the bastard Edmund entered the hall.

“My lord,” said Edmund, only nodding to Regan. “Our plans for Albany must be delayed. Look at this letter.”

The duke took the parchment from Edmund.

“What?” said Regan. “What, what, what?”

“France has landed forces. He knows of unrest between ourselves and Albany and has hidden forces in coastal cities all over Britain.”

Regan snatched the parchment out of Cornwall’s hand and read it for herself. “This is addressed to Gloucester.”

Edmund bowed in false contrition. “Aye, milady, I found it in his closet and brought it here as soon as I saw its contents.”

“Guard!” called Cornwall. The great doors opened and a soldier looked in. “Bring me the Earl of Gloucester. Give no deference to his title, he is a traitor.”

I looked for a way back to the kitchen, to perhaps find Gloucester and warn him of the bastard’s treachery, but Edmund faced the alcove where I was hiding and there was no getting out undiscovered. I opened the shutter to the arrow loop. Even if I could manage to wiggle through it, the wall was a sheer drop to the lake below. I palmed the shutter closed and latched it.

The latch on the main doors clanked again and I returned to the gap between the wall and the tapestry, from which I saw Goneril enter, trailed by two soldiers who held Gloucester by the arms. The old man looked as if he had given up already and hung between the soldiers like a drowned man.

“Hang him,” said Regan, turning to warm her hands by the fire.

“What is this?” said Goneril.

Cornwall handed her the letter and stood looking over her shoulder while she read.

“Pluck out his eyes,” she said, making an effort not to look at Gloucester.

Cornwall took the letter gently from her hand and put his hand on her shoulder in brotherly support. “Leave him to our displeasure, sister. Edmund, keep our sister company and see her safely home. Lady, tell your duke we must unite against this foreign force. We’ll send dispatches quickly between us. Go now, Earl of Gloucester, you do not want to see the dealings with this traitor.”

Edmund couldn’t conceal a smile upon being addressed by the title he had lusted after for so many years. “I will,” said Edmund. He offered his arm to Goneril, who took it. They started out of the hall.

“No!” said Regan.

Everyone stopped. Cornwall stepped between Regan and her sister. “Lady, now is the time when we must all be united against the foreign power.”

Regan gritted her teeth and turned back to the fire, waving them away. “Go.”

Edmund and Goneril left the hall.

“Bind him to that chair, then leave us,” Cornwall commanded his soldiers.