[Fools' Guild 08] - The Parisian Prodigal (16 page)

“Well, I couldn’t just walk through a tavern and peek inside,” said Helga, shooting me a sidelong glance. “It wouldn’t be proper for a young lady like me.”

“Just so,” I said. “Your solution?”

“There was no window I could look through,” she said. “No door, either. I went to the rear to see if I could hear through the walls, but they were too thick. So I came back to the front and stood where I could see through the door.”

“Did anyone go in to see her?” I asked.

“No,” she said, looking disappointed. “And after a few minutes, she left.”

“Oh, well,” I said. “You tried.”

“But after she left, someone did come out,” Helga said in triumph. “A large man, also cloaked. So, I followed to him to his
maison,
which is a very fine one indeed. After he went in, I asked at one of the stalls who this very fine
maison
belonged to. And he told me, why, to none other than the Count of Foix.”

T
he Count
of Foix is looming large in our investigation,” I said to Theo after I recounted my morning with the ladies.

“He looms large wherever he is,” said Theo. “He is a large-looming man. The Abbess spent only a few minutes with him?”

“Yes,” said Helga.

“And did not emerge with her dress in any noticeable disarray?”

“No.”

“It could still have been the normal transaction of a prostitute and a patron,” said Theo. “A few minutes would be sufficient.”

“For the man, anyway,” I said. “But he has not hidden his visits to the bordel. Why the sudden need for secrecy? Why the Robin’s Egg, and not the bordel itself?”

“Something set the two of them off,” speculated Theo. “And I have an idea what it might have been.”

“What?”

“You,” said Theo. “Your questions about him at the bordel. The Abbess wanted to let him know that you’re poking around in his life.”

“That should make tonight’s performance at the house of Foix particularly interesting,” I said.

“I can’t wait to see it,” said Helga excitedly. “The expression on his face when—“

“You’re not going,” said Theo.

“What?” she exclaimed, her face falling.

“You’re staying here with Portia,” he said. “You will bar all the windows and doors, and you will rig as many trip lines as you think you need. If anyone gets through, take to the rooftops and go to the room at the Yellow Dwarf.”

“But, Theo-“

“Not another
but Theo
out of you, Apprentice,” he said. “I am the Chief Fool of Toulouse and your master. You do as I say without protest.”

“Yes, Theo,” she said with nary a pout.

“And you, Master, will take a bath,” I said to my husband. “Yes, dear,” he said. He was pouting.

H
e pouted less
when I came in to scrub his back, but still complained.

“You had hot water and a room full of naked women,” he said. “I get a couple of buckets from the cistern and—“

“If you ever want to see this woman naked again, you will choose your next words wisely,” I said.

“A goddess,” he said quickly. “That’s what I was about to say, of course.”

“Of course,” I said. “Goddess of what, exactly?”

“Of loving, living, and laving,” he said.

“And now, the goddess of leaving,” I said, pouring the last bucket over him to rinse off the soap. “Get yourself dry and dressed. We have work to do.”

I
kissed
Portia good-bye as Theo came down to the lower room, then handed her to Helga. Our coded knock came on the door, and I opened it to see Pelardit. He bowed with an awkward flourish, several balls tumbling out of his sleeves.

“Everything ready?” asked Theo.

“At your command, my lord high master,” I said.

“Bar the door, Helga,” said Theo.

She stepped forward immediately, and he grabbed her shoulder.

“Wait until we’ve gone through it first,” he instructed her.

“Ohhhh,” she said in dumb comprehension.

Pelardit cracked a smile, and she broke character to smile back for a moment.

The moment the door closed behind us, we heard Portia start to howl in protest.

“Go into danger, or back to our screaming daughter?” asked Theo.

“Danger’s much easier,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Pelardit lifted an eyebrow at the mention of danger, so we brought him up to date. He was shaking his head by the time it was over, and held up his hand, his thumb and forefinger almost touching.

“No, it isn’t much,” conceded Theo. “But I’ve been going over Balthazar’s notes on the Count of Foix. Seems that his relationship with Raimon has always been tenuous. He owes his presence at the court more to the Duke of Comminges than through his own importance, although he is Raimon’s cousin. And not an illegitimate half brother, for a change.”

“That’s refreshing,” I said. “Is he very important? Foix is just this little place up in the Pyrenees. How much power can one have being the Count of Crags?”

“He gets by on charm and flattery,” said Theo. “Not so different from us, if you think about it. He lets himself be the butt of their gibes, brings them amusing stories of his escapades, and gets to keep feeding at the golden trough as a reward.”

“When did he first show up?” I asked.

“On a regular basis, not that long ago,” said Theo. “He had gotten into that little fracas with Aragon about four years back and ended up being held hostage by King Pedro for a while. After his wife, along with Comminges, intervened, he began frequenting Raimon’s court.”

“I guess home is too close to Aragon for comfort,” I said. “Here, he can pretend he isn’t afraid of anyone. There’s the
maison
up ahead. How do you want to play it tonight?”

“Get what gossip we can from the servants,” he said. “If you can get the lady of the house alone, it might be interesting to learn her take on Toulouse and Baudoin.”

“Do you know what occurs to me?” I asked.

“What?”

“If Foix has been here only a short time, how could he possibly care about Baudoin? All of that happened forty years ago.”

“But Baudoin’s arrival started Foix on this path,” he said. “If you see a man react as if he’s been threatened, then you know that the threat must exist even if you can’t see it.”

“But is that what he’s reacting to?” I asked. “Is he even the principal here? What if he’s just one more rung up the chain of command?”

“Do chains have rungs?” he mused.

“I meant one more link in the ladder,” I said.

“Ohhhh,” he said, imitating Helga. Then, “Ow!”

“So sorry,” I said. “My fist slipped.”

Pelardit took a large step away from us and started to whistle nonchalantly.

“What I meant is what if Foix is following someone else’s orders?” I asked.

“Do you think he’s done all this for Count Raimon?”

“No,” I said. “Raimon wouldn’t need all this subterfuge to set up Baudoin. He could simply banish him, or fob him off on some minor holding, or do whatever counts do when annoying long-lost relatives show up.”

“If not Raimon, then whom would the Count of Foix owe to this extent?” speculated Theo. “Comminges helped bail him out of Aragon’s dungeon, but Comminges is closer to Raimon than anyone.”

“You are missing an obvious possibility,” I said. “The wife.”

“Who also helped get him out,” said Theo. “And who needs all his influence and protection because she is a Cathar, and quite open about it.”

“And because all husbands owe a debt of obedience and deference to their wives,” I said.

“Right, I keep forgetting that,” he said. Then, “Ow!”

“Damn this pesky fist of mine,” I said. “I apologize.” Pelardit moved to the other side of the street.

“I will need this arm to function if I am going to earn a living,” said Theo.

“True,” I said. “I promise not to hit you again until after you get paid.”

“Lucky for me we’re performing for free tonight,” he sighed. “That gives me an extra day without pain.”

We passed through the gates into the courtyard, then made our way to a door on the side. This let us in through the kitchen, which was in full bustle. But there was disorder and disarray where one would expect to see the military precision of a great house. The cook, a tall woman with a short temper, was berating everyone in sight, while the assistants scurrying around seemed to have no idea where to find the ingredients she was screaming for or where to place the pots that they were carrying. There were a couple of near collisions in the short time we passed through, and Pelardit had to duck a saucepan that the cook flung at a boy who was not heeding her call quickly enough.

“You get the feeling that most of them were hired today?” muttered Theo.

“I was so counting on a decent meal to make up for the lack of payment,” I grumbled.

“I’ll cook you one tomorrow,” he promised. “Ah, that looks like someone who knows something.”

He stopped a harried-looking manservant who pointed us in the direction of the great hall. We went up a flight of stairs, stepping gingerly around the maids who were frantically scrubbing it, their cloths already black with removed grime. At the top of the stairs, a man stood wearing the yellow-and-red striped livery of the house of Foix, a silver chain of office around his neck. He was speaking to a woman wearing a plain black gown.

“Excuse me, senhor,” said Theo, nodding to him politely. “We are the fools, here for the entertainment.”

The man looked at him severely and barked, “Show the proper courtesy to the countess, fools!”

Theo blinked once, then turned to the woman and bowed deeply. We followed his lead.

“Good day to you, fools,” said the countess.

Her voice was slightly hoarse, as if it normally did not receive much use. Her accent was from somewhere west of the Pyrenees. As we rose, I looked at her more closely. She wore no trace of adornment. Not a jewel, not a comb, not a hint of makeup. Her hair was gray; her nails were her own. Had she walked down the street, I might have first thought her a washerwoman.

Yet, as I looked at her more closely, I realized that I would have seen my error quickly. There was intelligence in her eyes, an inner light that she took pains to conceal. And her bearing was proud, for all the accoutrements she had forsaken. This was a woman who had grown up with the nobility, and would forever be a part of that world.

I should know. It was my world once as well. I wondered if anyone could still see it in me, or were the makeup and motley sufficient to hide my earlier life?

“Good day to you, Domina,” said Théo. “I am Tan Pierre. This is my wife, Domina Gile, and our colleague, Pelardit.”

“I have heard tell of you, Senhor Pierre,” she said, smiling at him. “My husband tells me he won your performance in a footrace.”

“Too true, alas,” my husband said, shamefaced.

“I should thank you for providing him with the exercise,” she said. “He runs to stoutness.”

“Yet he is a stout runner for all that,” said Theo. “Had I known he was so fleet of foot, I would never have challenged him.”

“Do not blame yourself,” she said. “He is too fast for me as well. Richard, show them to the great hall.”

Her man beckoned to us without speaking. We bowed to her once more, then followed him.

The great hall took up half this level of the
maison.
Three musicians had already claimed the best corner for themselves. They were not a trio we had worked with before, although we had heard them play. They nodded to us while they tuned their instruments.

“Always a good sign when they tune first,” said Theo. “Where do those fellows usually perform?”

Pelardit became birdlike and gently cradled something small and round in his hands.

“The Robin’s Egg, right,” said Theo. “Where Helga saw Foix meet the Abbess. Maybe he was only there to hire the band. Mediocre musicians from a disreputable establishment. Rather low-class group to bring before the Count of Toulouse, don’t you think?”

“Yet as cheap as they are, they will still be paid more than us, I wager,” I said.

“Please, keep reminding me of that,” said Theo. “It will put me into such a good humor for this performance. What did you make of the wife?”

“I was trying to remember if we have seen her before,” I said. “I don’t remember her being at the dinner the count had before Christmas.”

“Unless she dressed like the other ladies,” said Theo. “Was she at the main table with her husband then, Pelardit?” Pelardit thought, then shook his head.

“Her choice or his, do you suppose?” I asked.

“The most public of public events,” Theo said. “The one time to show your love for your count where everyone may see it. Even the Count of Foix would want her at his side, if only for appearance’ sake.”

“At least he did not bring a mistress in her place,” I said. “Then it must be true love between them,” he snorted. “That was a rather pointed comment she made at the end of our meeting just now. How much do you think she knows about her husband’s goings-on?”

“Everything,” I said. “He doesn’t even make a show of secrecy.”

“It is quite the blatant performance,” agreed Theo. “I wonder if that’s what it is?”