[Fools' Guild 08] - The Parisian Prodigal (15 page)

“Let’s start with a quick review,” I said, pulling out a sheet of parchment. “Which is this?”

“A?”

“Good. And this?”

“Um …” She hesitated.

“R,”
said Portia confidently.

“That’s right, Portia,” I said, turning to her in surprise. “Which one is this?”

“P!”
she exclaimed happily.

“Wait, aren’t I supposed to be doing this?” asked Marquesia.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t know Portia knew her letters,” I said. I looked at my daughter. “Did Papa teach you that?”

“No,” said Portia.

“Who did?”

“I did,” said Helga.

“You did? When?”

“I don’t spend all my time running after stable boys,” she said, grinning. “I get stuck with my sister an awful lot while you and Papa are off performing. So I taught her her letters and numbers.”

“You sweet, thoughtful girl,” I said, pulling her into an embrace.

“Maybe she should teach here,” said Marquesia.

“She could, but I would worry about what she might learn in exchange,” I said.

“Things that will serve her well when she finds a husband,” said Marquesia. “Or a stable boy.”

“That’s what worries me …,” I began.

Then Sylvie charged into the room, an accusing finger pointing in Marquesia’s direction. “You took her room!” she shouted. “You slept in her bed, you filthy, selfish whore.”

“It’s a much nicer room than mine, and the Abbess said I could have it,” sniffed Marquesia. “I’m sorry that you lost your favorite, Sylvie, but that room belongs to me now.”

Sylvie stood for a moment in helpless fury, then stormed out the back door.

“Guess I’ll be making my own bed for a while,” said Marquesia.

“And lying in it,” muttered Helga.

“What was that, little girl?” asked Marquesia.

“Nothing,” said Helga.

“Back to our lesson,” I said.

We went over the letters one by one, Portia and Marquesia seated side by side while poring over them. The proficiency of the toddler aroused Marquesia’s competitive instincts, and by the end, they both had them down. Sylvie did not return from the garden.

“That’s enough,” said Marquesia. “That’s as exhausting a workout as I have had lately.”

“If I were a man, that would be a compliment,” I said. “How has it been here since the—incident?”

“Busy,” she groaned. “The notoriety draws men like manure draws flies. The room was the main attraction—the blood on the wall, the holes in the coverlet. But the Abbess didn’t want that to be the center of attention, so she had it cleaned up, and now I’m there.”

“Aren’t you frightened, sleeping in La Rossa’s bed?” asked Helga. “I would be.”

“She was my friend,” said Marquesia. “I do not fear her ghost. If anything, I think that she would protect us.”

“Too bad no one protected her,” said Helga.

“Has the Count of Foix been in since then?” I asked. “Why do you want to know about him?” asked Marquesia. “I am to perform at his house tonight,” I said. “Any inside knowledge as to his likes or dislikes would be useful.”

“He likes women and food, not necessarily in that order,” she said. “He dislikes spending money. Oh, and closed doors. He always has us with the door wide open. It’s quite shameless.”

“Is he here frequently?”

“More for-“

“Marquesia, it is time for you to prepare,” said the Abbess, standing in the doorway.

“I shall come again,” I said.

“Thank you for the lesson,” said Marquesia. “I must wash. We do that every day here.”

“Cleanliness is next to godliness,” I said.

“It will take more than a bath for us to achieve that,” said the Abbess. “Get going, girl. There will be customers soon.” Marquesia fled, and the Abbess glided in.

“How was her lesson?” she asked.

“Good,” I said. “She is a quick learner.”

“Quick learners make good earners,” said the Abbess. “At least in this house.”

“And now she has a better room,” I said. “Any candidates for the vacant one?”

“Why? Are you interested?” she asked, smirking.

“I do fine as a jester, thank you,” I said. “I was just wondering how easy it is to replace someone like La Rossa.”

“I have been besieged by whores with their hair dyed red seeking her place,” she said. “I have no need for anything that garish in this establishment.”

“I am glad that you maintain your standards,” I said. “Helga, how is the cooking coming along?”

“I think the stew is ready,” she said. “But Sylvie should decide that, not me.”

“I will go and fetch her from the back, milady,” I said, picking up both Portia and my cue. “No doubt you have household matters to attend to.”

I was out the door before the Abbess could question why I bothered.

Sylvie was at the rear of the garden, digging up onions. “What do you want?” she snapped without even looking up at me.

“To find out more about La Rossa,” I said. “Julie, I mean. She was your favorite, wasn’t she?”

She said nothing. I put Portia down, who waddled over to watch the digging. Sylvie looked at her, tears trickling down her cheeks.

“That can’t be from the onions,” I said.

“I remember when she was born,” said Sylvie, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “She had that red hair from the start. The Devil’s hair. We all told her mother that she was going to be trouble someday. Thank God she didn’t live to see it. But she wouldn’t have been surprised.”

“Who was her mother?” I asked.

“A servant, like me,” said Sylvie. “A beauty, which I never was. Ambitious. Stupid to be ambitious when you’re a servant.”

“Where was this?”

“Here. In town,” said Sylvie.

“Sylvie!” called the Abbess from the rear doorway.

“I came to tell you the stew is ready,” I said.

“No, you didn’t,” said Sylvie. “But I will tell her that.”

We walked back together, Sylvie holding the onions in her apron.

“Thank you for the recipe,” I was saying as we passed the Abbess into the house.

“Will you remember it all without my writing it down?” asked Sylvie, dumping the onions on the table.

“I will come back if I forget anything.”

Sylvie took the spoons from Helga and tasted the stew. “It’s ready,” she said to the Abbess.

“Time to feed the ladies,” said the Abbess. “They will need their strength tonight. I will walk you out, Fool.”

It was no request.

As we passed through the front parlor, I saw Aude and Marquesia on display in full makeup and costume. Marquesia gave a furtive wave.

“M,”
said Portia, pointing to her.

“P
for Portia,” Marquesia called back.

We passed by Carlos, who was up and stretching now. “That reminds me,” I said. “We haven’t had juggling practice yet today. Shall we do some four-handed work for our invisible audience?”

“Absolutely,” said Helga.

I plunked my daughter down to play in the dirt, and Helga and I hauled out three clubs each and began our warm-ups. Once we were loose, we marched ten paces from each other and turned.

“Breathe,” I commanded her. “And …”

We began passing them back and forth. She was good, this young girl, and she had started young, unlike me. But I had been taught by Theo, who had been taught by Amleth, who had been taught by Theo’s father, who reportedly was …

It occurred to me that I didn’t know who La Rossa’s father was.

“First forfeit to you,” called Helga. “After only eight passes, too.”

I looked at her blankly, then down at the club lying at my feet. I wasn’t even aware that I had dropped it.

“Sorry,” I said, picking it up. “I lost my concentration for a moment.”

“After all that talk,” she said. “Be on your guard now.”

“Be on yours, Apprentice,” I growled.

We made it through twenty passes before she caught one awkwardly and dropped a second while trying to recover.

“Better,” I said. “Next one to drop cooks dinner.”

“Not a fair wager at all,” she protested. “If I lose, I have to cook, and if I win, I have to eat your cooking.”

“Nevertheless,” I said, starting the pattern.

I felt loose, the bath having unknotted my muscles more than it did Helga’s tresses. I inhaled the warm spring air, filled with the scents of blooming things. My newly literate little girl played happily by my feet, wordlessly singing something she had heard in the bathhouse that morning, and the clubs flew to my hands like trained falcons.

Brother Timothy, the Fools’ Guild’s juggling master, once told us that there comes a point where you become one with the pattern, and it was in that moment that you knew God. I had scoffed at that at the time—not to his face, of course, for he took the subject very seriously, but today I felt it. I was not even aware of my arms moving. There could have been a hundred clubs flying at me for all I cared. I would have caught them all. I was on the verge of something, a discovery, a revelation… .

“Damn,” muttered Helga as she fumbled one.

I fell back to earth with the club.

“I counted forty-three passes,” called our friend from his aerie. “Very good.”

“Ah, but that was just an exercise,” I said. “Now, you shall see a show.”

And we launched into our street routine, playing to an audience of a leper in front and a bodyguard behind. A few furtive daytime customers passed by on their way to the bordel. They watched briefly, but moved on to their destinations.

“I thought you said juggling was better than making love.” Helga pouted.

“To watch, Apprentice,” I replied. “Not to do. For now, stick to juggling.”

“Thank you, ladies,” called the leper. “I look forward to your next performance.”

We bowed, then turned and bowed to Carlos, who was caught by surprise.

“You have no excuse for not applauding,” I said.

He got to his feet quickly and clapped.

“Better,” I said. “I hope that came from entertainment and not fear.”

“You took me off guard that time, woman,” he said with a thick Catalan accent. “I will not underestimate you again.”

“Bravely spoken, senhor,” I said. “Let us part in peace.”

He nodded. We collected our gear and Portia and left.

“We have worked very hard, it’s only midday, and we have no money to show for it,” sighed Helga.

“We have taught a prostitute her letters, given ease to a leper, and nearly met God through juggling,” I said. “If we died now, we would have our place in Heaven.”

“Let’s not put that to the test,” she urged. “Do you really believe what Brother Timothy always told us?”

“I am beginning to,” I said.

“Then I’m sorry I messed up,” said Helga. “I kept you from divinity.”

“I have a feeling that there will always be a dropped club standing between us and perfection,” I said. “Let’s get something to eat.”

There was a small tavern near the gate that was reasonable. As we finished our meal, Helga gave a slight nod toward the window. I looked, and saw the Abbess going by.

“You would think she would be minding the store,” commented Helga.

“You would,” I agreed. “Are you tired of following dangerous men?”

“Never,” she said. “But a dangerous woman would be a change of pace.”

She was off before I could even tell her to go.

I put Portia up on my shoulders and headed home. Theo was in the lower room, sitting by the window and picking a tune out on his lute.

“You’re up early,” I commented.

“You’re not so pretty when you’re being snide,” he replied, putting his instrument down and hoisting Portia from my shoulders.

“And you still smell like a horse,” I said. “You can’t perform before the nobility smelling like that. They may think it’s the act.”

He sniffed the air suspiciously.

“I think that’s Portia,” he said.

“Your daughter has had a bath today,” I informed him as Portia looked hurt. “So have I.”

“Really? All that extravagance for a nonpaying job?”

“It’s not my fault that we’re not getting paid,” I said. “But on that topic, I gave a reading lesson to a prostitute and a performance to a leper, and am out what I spent on luncheon. There had better be some food for us tonight at the very least.”

“What a disastrous profession we’re in,” he sighed. “We’ll have to make sure Portia marries someone with a regular income.”

“Nonsense,” I said. “She will earn her own way.”

“Send her to the Fools’ Guild?”

“Anywhere but,” I said. “We will send her to a proper university when she’s of age.”

“A girl at university? That’s a waste.”

“The one at Bologna takes them,” I said. “She can even study law there.”

“Now you’re just trying to frighten her,” he said, shuddering at the idea.

A quick series of short and long knocks, then Helga came through the door.

“Who is this?” exclaimed Theo. “She knows the knock, but I swear that I do not know this girl.”

“It’s Helga,” she said.

“But the Helga I know is a dust-covered demon,” said Theo. “You are a blond angel from Heaven.”

“This is another bath joke, isn’t it?” said Helga.

“Are you quite certain that I am her father?” Theo asked me. “She doesn’t look anything like me.”

“No, her father was a handsome man,” I said.

Theo walked over to her and took her chin in his hand. He perused her face seriously. “You are on the verge of being a very pretty girl,” he said. “That can be dangerous.”

“I have already had this conversation today,” said Helga. “Ah, good,” he said. “My wife knows too well the pitfalls of being a beautiful woman. You end up marrying penniless fools like me.”

“That’s not true,” I said. “You had a penny when I married you. I know because I gave it to you. Apprentice, report.”

“The Abbess went through the gate, then put her cloak up once she got into the city,” said Helga.

“You were following the Abbess?” asked Theo. “Why?”

“Be quiet, husband,” I said. “Continue.”

“She went to the Robin’s Egg near the Dalbade and went straight to a back room.”

“An assignation for the Abbess,” mused Theo. “One would think her own establishment would be sufficient.”

“Remember being quiet, husband?” I reminded him. “Right, you did mention something about that,” he said, subsiding.