Jester Leaps In: A Medieval Mystery (24 page)

“I babbled a lot when I was there, half in a delirium. When I had recovered somewhat, Stanislaus told me what I had been saying. You have to remember, this was weeks after I had been attacked, and by this time, the other fools were all gone. I was terrified. I had almost been killed, and I didn’t even know what I was supposed to know that was so important.

“I had blurted out something about the plot, but he couldn’t find out anything when he looked into it. And I was worried that someone from the Guild would show up and not know where to turn for help. I gave him the password, Theo. I probably shouldn’t have, but I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time.”

I patted her on the shoulder.

“It’s all right,” I said. “I’ve been thinking we’re due for a new one in any case. Did Stanislaus have any suspects?”

“He had so many that he didn’t know where to turn first. I think he’s hoping that you’ll draw them out, and he’ll catch them when they kill you.”

“I don’t like that plan. How about the one where he catches them
before
they kill me?”

“He thinks that killing you makes their intentions a bit clearer.”

“Oh. He has a point there.”

She leaned over the bed and kissed me gently on the cheek, then climbed through the window.

“Sleep well,” she said softly, and then vanished into what was left of the night.

I spent the morning searching for Viola, looking in places we had been before. No luck, and no real way of knowing where to look. I had no time to retrace our route back to Thessaloniki. I supposed if she went that way, I would eventually hear about it from Fat Basil. If I was still alive to receive the message. And if Viola was still alive to send it.

I was unaware of anyone following or watching me, although I was taking the usual precautions. Either I had lost them or they were very good. I assumed the latter for safety’s sake, now that I no longer had anyone watching my back.

Knowing about the connection between Stanislaus and Thalia cleared up a minor matter for me. I was wondering how Thalia had learned of our arrival in the city. Obviously, Stanislaus had told her after meeting us at the Rooster, and she started following us soon after.

The sun was soon high enough to tell me to attend to my royal audience. I passed through the gates and doors to Blachernae to find Alexios unattended except for a few guards by the doors. He was slumped on the throne, staring into space, his chin resting on his hand. A pitcher and a full goblet rested on a stand by the throne.

“Ah, Feste,” he said. “See? I remembered your name.”

“I am flattered, Your Majesty,” I replied.

“Sing me something to cheer me up,” he said.

“Certainly,” I said, picking up my lute.

I sang some comic ditties and some heroic ballads for a while. At one point, he drained his goblet and picked up the pitcher to discover it was empty. He threw it at a door. The thump brought a servant at the gallop, a full pitcher in his hand.

“If I finish this one before the next one comes out,” said the Emperor to the man who was quaking visibly, “then I will see how you do against one of my bears at the next games.”

The fellow bowed and fled. Alexios turned to me and winked.

“Discipline,” he said. “It’s how I’ve come so far.”

“Admirable,” I replied.

He refilled the goblet, sipped from it, and stood.

“We need a window in here,” he grumbled. “I didn’t become Emperor so that they could entomb me while I was still living. Where is the sun?”

“When I came in, it was on the throne,” I replied.

He made some vague gesture of thanks and started staggering around the room, leaning on a jewel-encrusted cane.

“Ever wanted to be Emperor?” he asked me.

“No, milord.”

“You’re about the only one who doesn’t. I am surrounded by hopeful heirs and ambitious plotters, and those are just the ones I like.”

“I hope you find that I am neither, milord.”

“You? You are the Emperor’s Fool. If an emperor can’t trust a fool, who can he trust?”

“Himself, milord.”

He considered that.

“I don’t know that I can trust myself,” he confessed. “I have too many faults. Too many sins. They weigh me down some days. I was as hopeful and as ambitious a man as any I have ever seen, and that’s the God’s truth.”

“If it will comfort Your Majesty, let me say that I have seen worse.”

There was a pause as Alexios stared and the guards looked startled; then the Emperor began to laugh.

“Then there’s hope for me, eh?” he said. “I must travel more to see these superior sinners. Let me tell you, Feste, sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. I’ve done all that I have done in order to become Emperor, and now I’m Emperor. What’s left? Conquering the world?”

“It’s a big place,” I said.

“Yes, and it’s all we can do to hold on to this little piece of it. I’ve had my share of those battles, believe me, and that’s when I was fighting for my predecessors. Or against them. Been on both sides of a few squabbles. Fought with my father against Andronikos on behalf of the last Alexios to be Emperor; then my father went over to Andronikos, so we all went with him. Tried to come out alive with as many men as I could. That’s why they’re so loyal to me. When others were all set to fight battles, I arranged some quiet little assassinations. Held the head of the false-Alexios in my hands and averted a war. Caught my brother unaware while he was out hunting. Easiest succession this empire’s ever had, hardly had to kill anybody. Didn’t even kill my brother!” He paused. “Maybe I should have, you know. It would have been smart. But family is family. I played with him as a child. That’s why I only had him blinded.”

“Most generous of you.”

“And still there are those who don’t like me.”

“It confounds all sense. Where is your flutist today?”

“Off with the women, having a bath,” he said. “Wish I could watch. Maybe I’ll have a women’s bath built with a hiding place for me. I often wonder what they do when we’re not around, don’t you?”

“Some things should remain mysteries to men,” I said.

“Euphy and I used to bathe together,” he confided. “Extraordinary figure of a woman back then. Suppose she still is. Should invite her over to the royal bedchamber one of these days. Just for old times’ sake.”

“There comes a time when having one’s wife becomes the spice that is variety, milord.”

“True, true. But in the meantime . . . Ah, there’s my treasure!”

The flutist posed decoratively in the doorway, then entered. Small bells decked her fingers and toes, making a pleasant tinkling sound as she walked toward her master. More bells were draped about her body, keeping what little modesty she possessed intact. Apart from the bells, she wore nothing. She had not only bathed, but had had herself oiled afterward. She was downright slippery, in fact, but Alexios seemed willing to make the effort to catch her. She traipsed about just out of his reach as he limped after her, teasing him with sidelong glances and beckoning with her fresh-painted talons. The guards and I watched as she finally let him catch her.

“Well, there’s my hunting for the day,” he gasped. “Is she not a pretty prize?”

“Indeed. You should have her mounted,” I said.

“Oh, I shall, I shall,” he said fondly, caressing her hair. “Did you make good report of me to the Empress, my dear? Tell her of how you comforted me with your playing?”

She murmured something in Arabic, and he beamed idiotically.

“I don’t understand a word of it,” he said. “But it sounds sinful.”

I was not about to translate for him. Arabic is a rich language filled with exquisite turns of phrase, especially when it comes to insults, and there’s no way I could do it justice in any other language.

“Nap!” the Emperor bellowed, and the flutist danced away into the bedchamber. He would have fallen over had I not leapt forward and steadied him.

“Thanks, good Fool,” he said. “You’re done for the day.”

“It’s early, sire,” I said. “Shall I await your further pleasure?”

“Not unless you can . . . Oh, I see what you mean. No, go amuse yourself.” He leered in the direction of the Belle of the Bells. “I’ll ring if I need you,” he guffawed.

“Perhaps I could entertain the Empress?” I suggested. I was curious to see how the other half of this domestic bliss operated.

“No need,” he said. “She already has a fool.”

“I understand that Thalia left her some time ago,” I pointed out.

“Thalia?” he said, puzzled. Then he brightened. “Oh, yes. The old one. I liked her. Contortionist. Had dreams about her, I can tell you. Or rather, I can’t tell you. Could have had her, but Euphy wouldn’t let me. Funny sort of wife, having the say-so over one’s mistresses. Glad she let me keep this one. No, she has a new fool.”

It is hard to keep a straight face when your heart is leaping in your chest.

“When was this?” I asked casually.

“Yesterday,” he said. “Pretty thing. Calls herself Aglaia.”

The heart of the foolish is like a cartwheel
.

SIRACH
33:6

I
sat on the parapets of the wall that separated Blachernae from the rest of the city, watching the comings and goings of the world. I could see the Golden Horn over the seawall. Unlike in the Kontoskalion Harbor, the activity here was constant. Ships jockeyed for available berths on both shores, and those that succeeded were relieved of their cargoes before they had even finished tying up. Spices and fish coming in, silks and leather going out.

I heard a commotion from the south, and looked to see the Empress’s procession returning from yet another assault on an unsuspecting piece of marble. The pedestrians scattered quickly, accustomed to the comings and goings of this strange and powerful woman, then reformed their patterns after she passed through.

But there was something new today. She was laughing, her deep, throaty bellows rattling nearby shutters and making her hooded falcon shift uneasily on her wrist, wondering at the noise. Her charioteer, whose constant exposure to the sun had so bronzed him that he could have blended in with the statues in the Hippodrome, frequently glanced behind at her, occasionally smiling himself.

The source of this hilarity was a woman in motley, seated next to Euphrosyne, chattering away and making frequent gesticulations. The motley looked as if it had barely been worn, if the brightness of its colors was any indication, and its geometric patterns were so even that it was clear that no patches had been added to it since its creation. The fool was wearing whiteface with rouged cheeks and lips and a pattern of green and blue dots around her eyes, except for a pair of green diamonds under them.

Green diamonds, like the ones I had under my eyes.

The entourage passed through the gate in the wall, and then another one at the end of the palace opposite the one I normally used. I guess the Empress had her own entrance.

I descended the ramp from the wall and waited in an alcove from whence I could see the palace. Toward sunset, the gate opened, and the fool came out, weaving slightly. She didn’t notice me until she had nearly passed by.

“Aglaia,” I said.

She turned slowly and saw me. She smiled that slightly crooked grin that I knew so well. Not that I needed it to recognize her. I could have done it from the eyes.

“I was racking my brain trying to remember where that name comes from,” I continued. “One of the three Graces, was she not?”

“The other two being Euphrosyne and Thalia,” she said. “Thalia was Good Cheer, and Euphrosyne Mirth.”

“And Aglaia?” I asked.

She came toward me, put her arms around my waist, and held me tight.

“Splendor,” Viola whispered in my ear, and then she tilted her head back and let me kiss her for a while.

I took my time doing it. I wanted to get the taste of her back in my memory, strong enough to take with me to the grave. I
hadn’t known when she left if I would ever get to do this again, and I didn’t know even now whether it would be the last time. And there was no rush for me at this moment to go out and do anything else.

“Are you very angry?” she said when we disengaged.

“I was frightened,” I said.

“That I would come to harm?”

“No. That I might not ever see you again.”

“You didn’t think I would walk out on you, did you?” she said, glaring a bit. I took her hand in mine.

“What I thought is that you probably went off on your own damn fool errand,” I said. “But if you did decide to walk out on me, it was because I eminently deserved it. I wish you had let me know where you were, though.”

“I thought you might try to stop me.”

I shook my head.

“In the training of fools, there are many tests,” I said. “One is to see if the apprentice will have sufficient wit, initiative, and confidence to get so pissed off at his teacher that he will strike off on his own. Very few take that route. Those who do generally end up being at the very top of the profession.”

“You just made that up to make me feel less guilty, didn’t you?” she said accusingly.

“No, Duchess. If we ever get back to the Guildhall, ask Father Gerald about when he taught me. Fools resist authority and resent all establishments, which makes training and ordering them about a bit paradoxical. It’s even more complicated in our situation because we are married, and I must say, having been through this, that I will never train another wife of mine to be a fool.”

She hugged me again.

“There’ll be no further opportunity to do so if I have my way,” she whispered.

This led to more of that kissing, which was fine by me.

“You’re a bit tipsy,” I observed.

“I am not,” she protested; then she reconsidered as she staggered into the doorway. “All right, a bit,” she admitted. “Keeping up with Euphy has its challenging side.”

“Tell me how you managed to get in there.”

“You forget how good I am at talking my way into places,” she said. “It’s how I got to be a duchess in the first place. I just walked up to the gate, pounded on it, and said, ‘I’m the Empress’s new jester.’ The guards looked confused and started whispering to each other. I informed them that if the Empress’s entertainment was delayed, she would be in a foul mood and inclined to take it out on whoever caused the delay. That got me through the gate. They kept passing the responsibility on up the chain of command, and eventually I was in her throne room.”