Thirteenth Night (3 page)

I didn't like it. “You don't trust me.”

He wouldn't look at me. “As you said, I have spies in the tavern. And they report to me that you have been doing prodigious feats of imbibing, such as would dwarf the legends of Heracles.”

“That's here. That's between assignments. I have too much time on my hands. Why haven't you sent me out?”

“They also say that when you aren't drinking, you're brooding, which then leads you straightaway to drinking again. I conclude from all of this that you haven't recovered from your last mission.”

“My failure, you mean.”

He shook his head. “Theo, my lad, you have to accept the fact that our role will always be one of subtle influence, and when the target is an old man who had the misfortune to turn dotard before giving away his power, then it's not your fault that it turned out badly.”

“I should have stayed.”

“It would have made no difference. And until you realize that and regain some semblance of your old self, I'm going to keep you here. You are still one of my best men, which is precisely why I am not sending you into a new situation while you're mooning over the last one. I'm sending someone else.”

I stood up. “In that case, Father, I regret to say that I am resigning from the Guild.”

He looked up at me in surprise. “I won't permit that.”

“It doesn't matter. If you won't send me on behalf of the Guild, I'll go on my own. These are people that I care about, and if it is Malvolio, then I am responsible for what is happening to them. I'm going.”

He turned back to the fireplace and thought. I didn't interrupt him. “Did any of them ever see you without your makeup?” he asked abruptly.

“No, Father. I was scrupulous about that.”

“Then I propose the following. You go, but not as Feste. Not even as a fool.”

“But…”

“Don't interrupt, lad. I'm trying to save your life. You go as a merchant. Invent some plausible story that will take you there and keep you for a while. I'll have someone else arrive a few days later as a fool. That way, we'll have two men on the scene, and Malvolio will concentrate his efforts on him.”

It was a good plan, though it irked me that I would be working outside of my profession, as a common spy rather than a fool. I could have just as well become an actor if that was all I amounted to. “Whom will you send?”

“I'm not sure, yet. I'm expecting someone in from Toledo who might be good for the job. You don't know him. Whoever it is, he will be wearing this ring.” He held up an intricate silver filigree shaped in the head of an ass. “When you see him, use the password.”

“Fine. Um, if I'm to play the merchant, I'll need money. More than usual.”

He reached into his desk and pulled out a small purse. “This will get you as far as Venice. Brother Timothy will give you a letter of credit on our account there.”

“I'm going to Venice? That's a little out of the way.”

“Not necessarily. Even this late in the year you can probably find a boat to take you across. It's safer than by land. Word has reached us that the Serbs and the Croats are at it again.”

“What's the Guild position on them?”

“Ah, I wish one of them would do the other in so we could stop worrying about it,” he grumbled. “No, I never said that. The Guild takes no position. We're trying to get them to come to terms. In the meantime, that road is risky, so go to Venice. Check in with Domino while you're there. He'll have the gossip on Orsino if there is any.”

“All right, Father.” I turned to leave, then turned back somewhat guiltily. “I'm afraid I'll have to miss the Feast.”

He nodded sadly. “I heard you were going to portray me,” he said. “I was looking forward to that. But there may be nothing to miss.”

That was disturbing. “What do you mean?” I asked.

He stared at the fire again, absentmindedly massaging his brows. “Nominally, Rome thinks that it controls the Guild, and we prefer to let it think so. But there's been an unusual amount of backlash against the Feast, more than just that idiot bishop in Paris. Our Pope Innocent is turning out to be anything but. The Church is under attack because people are finally wondering why they have so little while the wardens of Christ have so much, and His Holiness is becoming very sensitive about ridicule. And that includes the Feast of Fools.”

“But that's ludicrous. It's a harmless ritual.”

“Not a bit of it, Theo. It's subversive. It undermines the foundations of the edifice even while they pile more gold leaf on the dome. Which is precisely why the Guild developed the Feast. Rome doesn't know that, but it knows it doesn't like it. We're using what influence we can to keep it from issuing an absolute ban. If it merely expresses disapproval, we'll be all right, but it could get very dicey for us. That's another reason I wanted to keep you around here. However, I think I can spare you for a little while. When you see Domino, fill him in so he can use his influence in Venice on our behalf.”

“Yes, Father.” I turned to go.

“Theo. There is one more thing.”

I turned back again. He came around the desk to take my hand between his.

“I would like you to come to confession before you go,” he said.

My heart sank. “I can't, Father. I have yet to absolve myself. How can I go to you?”

“It's not just your life that I worry about, my boy. I have to worry about your immortal soul. And I do care about what happens to you.”

“I'm not ready yet, Father. Maybe when I return.”

He patted my hand and released it. “Then make sure you do return, Theo.”

“And you make sure you're still alive when I get back.”

He laughed for the first time. “Go on, lad. It's a pact.” I turned once more. “Theo,” he called as I left the room.

“Yes, Father?” I replied, leaning into the doorway.

“Find Malvolio. Find out what he knows of the Guild, and who he's working for. Then give him a good Christian burial.”

“Yes, Father.” I walked down the hall.

“Theo!” he called.

“Yes, Father?”

“It doesn't particularly matter to me whether he's alive or dead when you bury him.”

“Yes, Father.” And I walked towards the tunnel as his door slammed shut behind me.

T
WO

Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves;
so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.

MATTHEW 10.16

 

When I returned to the Guildhall I found Brother Timothy by himself juggling six clubs while the novitiates were off to their evening meal. He varied the pattern with every cycle, the clubs following routes that seemed chaotic but were mathematically precise. He nodded at me as I approached, and three of the clubs detached themselves from his ambit and hurtled in my direction. I was ready for him this time, and sober as well, so I caught them easily and set them aloft again over my head.

“I'll go easy on you,” promised Timothy. “Now, breathe. And…” We threw from our right hands and circled an imaginary point between us as the clubs passed one another over it.

“Time was when you could keep eight in the air by yourself,” commented Timothy.

“Time was,” I agreed. “Time was when I could run for leagues without stopping. Time was when I could drink any man under the table. Not anymore.”

“Then you shouldn't be going out,” he said bluntly. I didn't ask him how he knew. He had a knack for knowing things before they came about.

“How bad is he?” I asked, indicating the passageway to Father Gerald's cell.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he muttered, altering the pattern to distract me.

“His eyes,” I said. “When did they start to go?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Can't find Orsino on the map. Wants me to rehash my report verbally when he has it right in front of him. Delegates the drafting of the letter of credit to you. He never used to do any of this. He's going blind, isn't he?”

“Blind or not, he's as sharp as ever. If you're so concerned, stay here and help me watch over him.”

“Can't do that. I'm off to Orsino.”

“Leaving the Guild for a personal matter in a time of crisis. You're acting like a schoolboy, Theo, when we could really use you here right now. We may have to relocate on short notice.”

“As bad as all that?”

“Rome being Rome, yes. As bad as all that.”

I was stunned. I had no idea things had gotten to that point. “You'd think they'd know better. Makes you want to leave the Church and join the Waldenses.”

“Ah, the Waldenses,” mused Timothy fondly. “Lovely little group. Rome could learn much from them if it were willing. Makes me proud when I think how we caused all that.”

“We did? I never knew that.”

“It's a pretty story. Peter Waldes heard a troubadour singing the ‘Lay of Saint Alexis' one day in Lyons, and before you know it he's sold his goods and preaching poverty. The troubadour was one of ours, of course.”

I laughed. “You mean we're taking credit for a coincidence?”

“It's hard to tell the rocky ground from the good soil nowadays,” he replied solemnly. “So we sow our seed everywhere and hope for the best. I tell you what, if you run away to the Waldenses, I might go with you. Only if Rome is worried about us, God knows what they'll do to a competing sect, especially one that preaches ecclesiastical poverty. Speaking of which, I suppose you'll be needing money for this adventure of yours.”

“Yes. And a horse.”

“An ass is good enough for a fool, fool.”

“But I am going as a merchant. A horse, decent clothing, and enough money to travel in style. So decrees the good father.”

He scowled. He kept an iron grip on the Guild's purse strings, and this was clearly an extravagance. But I was still feeling insulted by being forced to abandon my motley for the journey, so I would be damned if I wasn't going to make them pay for that.

“All right, Theo,” he conceded. “Are you going through Venice?” I nodded. “Come with me and I'll give a letter of credit. Are you sure you can handle this job?”

His eyes widened as my dagger split the air a hand's breadth from his ear and embedded itself in a post behind him. The clubs maintained their pattern on both ends.

“I haven't completely lost my skills,” I drawled, and then I dropped my hands, stepped back, and let the clubs clatter to the floor around me. He slammed down his remaining club, pulled the dagger out, and whipped it back. It passed by my ear by a finger's width. I bowed to the master and retrieved it from the opposite wall.

*   *   *

Niccolò intercepted me as I walked to the stables, my newly filled purse jingling happily at my waist.

“Your mysterious messenger has a very good horse,” he reported. “Much better than any of ours. He went in the direction he said he would at an unreasonably fast pace. I could track him, if you like, but I doubt that I could catch him with any of the swaybacked nags we have here.”

“Thank you, but no. He doesn't matter. The man I want will be waiting for me at my journey's end.” He held out his hand, and I took it. “You'll have to take over Father Gerald's part in the Feast.”

“I don't imitate him as well as you.”

“You'll be fine. Try stumbling and bumping into things. If he asks you why, tell him I suggested it. He'll understand.”

*   *   *

Brother Dennis was shoeing a bay mare when I came in, a leathern apron over his cassock, the nails tucked in the corner of his mouth. “Be with you in a minute,” he muttered. The mare was struggling, but he had her leg immobilized in one immense arm. He drove the nails home with one blow each, then released the mare and slapped her affectionately on the rump. She snorted and trotted away. “What can I do for you, Theo? I have the donkey trained for the Feast.”

“Thank you, but unfortunately I won't be here. I'm off on the morrow, and shall require one of your finest Arabians.”

He snorted much as the bay had. “What's the setup? Too good for an ass?”

“I go in the guise of a merchant. I also need some speed.”

He motioned me inside. “Mostly packs and drays right now, but I've got one that might do the trick. Cantankerous bastard, I'll be glad to get rid of him for a while.”

This didn't exactly inspire me with confidence. The beast itself turned out to be a large, shaggy gray that cast a malevolent glance in my direction.

“How do you like him?” asked Dennis.

I reached my hand out to touch him and pulled it back in time to keep my fingers. “I'm supposed to ride this thing?”

“Ah, don't bother yourself. You said you wanted a riding horse with some speed to him. Old Zeus here will give it to you, once you get the hang of him.”

“And if I don't?”

“He'll still run fast. It's just a question of which direction is all. I'll have him saddled and ready for you tomorrow.”

I thanked him and backed carefully away from the stall. I then climbed a nearby ladder to the large storeroom over the stables, where Sister Agatha could usually be found plying her needle. She was sitting at her worktable by a large window, taking advantage of the last rays of the sun to complete some immense white structure. She had been recruited to the Guild twenty years before as a fool, but her prowess as costumer soon proved to be more valuable. The passing decades had left her hands quick yet scarred with a thousand pinpricks, but the round, red-cheeked face that peeked out from under her coverchief was as merry as when she first arrived.

“Agatha, sweet virgin, abandon your vows and romp with me in Cupid's fields or I shall die of heartbreak.”

She dimpled as she always did when I flirted with her and looked twenty years younger for a moment. “Go on with you,” she chuckled. “As if an old man like you could do anything for me.” She held up her handiwork to the light, and I realized it was a giant miter, grossly distorted. “For the Bishop of Fools,” she said. “Watch.” She pulled a string at the base of it and a panel sprang open revealing a small compartment. “The doves will be in here. When they get their cue, they'll fly out and perch on the rafters. I don't plan to be sitting under there, by the way, and I recommend you don't either.”