[Fools' Guild 08] - The Parisian Prodigal (25 page)

“It is, Na Gile, and I ask your pardon for it.”

“If you wish to make recompense, then my price is a simple one.”

“Name it, lady.”

“I ask that you answer our questions with the truth.”

He grimaced, or smiled, I do not know which. “Your price is a steep one, and far from simple,” he said. “But I shall pay it.”

“You had a bastard child with a maid in your household. A daughter named Julie.”

“I did.”

“You took her in after her mother died.”

“I gave her a roof and a way of providing for her, and when she was of age, I found her a husband. Pelfort, a servant on my staff.”

“Did she know that she was your daughter?”

“I do not know when she learned it, but she did,” he said. “My wife—I could not keep the truth from her. It destroyed her. She wasted away before my very eyes. I learned from Julie years later that my wife had, in a fit of rage, whipped her while calling her a bastard of a whore’s child. If she hadn’t known before, she certainly did then.”

“Was Julie left anything in your will?” I asked.

“I had a stipend for her, enough for her to live upon had she—had she outlived me. It was not much, but it was all I could do.”

“What about while she was alive?” asked Theo. “What about when she needed enough to stave off whoredom?”

“I tried,” he said. “But she wanted so much, and there was little enough as there was. She had some idea that I had a fortune stashed away somewhere.”

“What about the house?” asked Sancho. “That had to be worth something given the neighborhood.”

“The house may never be sold while a de Planes still lives,” said the old man. “There is a great-nephew waiting in Arles for me to finally leave this earth, and the house will go to him. He’s more than welcome to it.”

“After your wife died, you sent Guerau, your son, and Pelfort to Paris,” I said. “Who were they to meet?”

He sat up, his shoulders stiffening. “I will not give you that name,” he said. “It is a matter of honor.”

“I would be much more impressed by that chivalry if you were not the sort of man who sends bordel ruffians to intimidate women,” I said.

He slumped down in embarrassment.

“You sent him to speak to Constance, didn’t you?” I asked. “I confess it,” he said, miserably. “But Guerau never went to Paris, and she never— I was a fool to try, and my son paid the price for my folly. I thought I could gain absolution by taking the Cross, but I fear that my soul will be as damned in the afterlife as my body is in life.”

“How did you come to sell the bordel to Foix?” asked Theo. “Did he owe you some favor from your time together in the Holy Land?”

“I never knew him there,” said de Planes. “We had no connection. He just appeared on my doorstep a few years ago and offered to buy the place, keeping the arrangement going with this house. I thought it would be a way to assure the care of my afflicted brothers after God finally took pity on me and allowed me to die.”

“And you had no other connection to him?” persisted Theo. “None,” said de Planes.

We all looked each other.

Sancho shrugged. “I have nothing,” he said.

“Senhor,” I said gently. “You know of the death of your daughter.”

“Oc, Domina,” he said, tears starting to glisten in the dead eyes.

“Do you have any idea of why she was murdered?”

“The actual murder, no,” he said, crying openly. “But her entire life sent her to her doom, and I am the one responsible.”

“I am sorry for it, senhor,” I said. “May God grant you the mercy you seek.”

“Amen,” said Helga.

S
ancho’s men
hastily took a few steps back from us as Adhémar let us out.

“Well, we’ve exposed ourselves to contagion just to find out that there was no reason to kill La Rossa,” said Sancho.

“We know more than we did, but not as much as we need to,” I said.

“It’s not inheritance, politics, scandal, money, or vengeance,” said Theo. “What’s left?”

“Hatred,” I said.

“Whose hatred for whom?” asked Theo.

“Let’s go to the bordel,” I suggested.

“Hooray,” said one of Sancho’s men.

We walked down the path to the bordel.

“Oh, look who’s back,” I said.

Carlos was sitting at his post, his eye black, his jaw wrapped in a dirty kerchief.

“Mine,” said Theo. He sauntered up to Carlos, who glared but did not rise. “Women,” said Theo. “Nothing but trouble, but what are you going to do, eh? Heard mine have been causing you some inconvenience.”

Carlos said nothing.

Theo squatted down, looked him in the eyes and smiled. “So far,” he said, “you have been defeated in single combat by my wife and my elder daughter. Next up is Portia. She’s only sixteen months old, but she is a fearsome hair-puller and bites like a wolf. My money would be on her.”

Sancho and his men snickered while Carlos stayed in his seat.

Theo stopped smiling. He reached out with one finger and laid it on the kerchief binding Carlos’s jaw.

“Or,” he said softly, “I could be the next member of the family to take you on.”

He tapped the guard’s jaw with his finger. Hard. Carlos winced.

“Don’t give me a reason,” said Theo.

He stood, opened the door, and beckoned to us.

“What is this?” cried the Abbess as we trooped into the front parlor.

“Forgive us, Abbess, we won’t be here long,” I said. “Husband, if you look at her feet one more time, I will make certain that you will be of no use to any woman anywhere ever again.”

“Feet? She has those, too?” exclaimed Theo innocently.

“Right,” I said. “Sancho, I want you to show me where everyone was when Julie met Baudoin. Your men will be Baudoin and Hue, I will be Julie, and you, the Abbess and my husband will be yourselves.”

“Who will I be?” asked Helga.

“Just stand out of the way,” I said. “Position them, Sancho.”

“All right,” said Sancho. “I came in first, so I moved all the way to the right side, about here.”

He stood at the far end of the room, in front one of the red cushioned chairs.

“Baudoin came in behind me,” he continued. “With Hue behind him. They ended up side by side in the middle.”

He waved the two men over, and they stood side by side, taking the time to run their eyes over the Abbess’s body.

“And I was right here, just to the right of the door,” said Theo, taking up his position. “The Abbess came through the door from the hall, so she was directly opposite me.”

“Please make your entrance,” I asked her.

“I am no puppet to be manipulated so!” she said indignantly.

“Best do it, Domina,” advised Sancho, his fingers rattling the hilt of his sword.

She gave him a look filled with hate, then went out into the hallway and came back in.

“She came across to me first, then went to Baudoin,” said Sancho, motioning her into the room.

“Then the Count of Foix came down,” said Theo.

“Oh, I want to be him!” said Helga, and she ran out, then came back, her cheeks puffed out and her arms making large ovals at her sides. The men chuckled in appreciation.

“He recommends La Rossa to Baudoin, then leaves,” said Sancho.

“That was the signal for you to tell La Rossa to get information from Baudoin, wasn’t it?” I asked the Abbess.

She nodded curtly.

“The Abbess goes to fetch Julie,” I said. “Before we do that, did all of you remain where you are?”

“As far as I can remember,” said Sancho.

“Oc, we did,” said Theo.

“Who did Julie look at first? Who did she speak to?”

“The Abbess came in and announced her,” remembered Théo. “I saw her while she was still in the hall, but she wasn’t paying me any mind. I don’t think the others could see her until she came intp the room. Would that be right, gentlemen?”

“I can’t see into the hall from this angle,” said one of the soldiers.

“Me, neither,” said the other.

“And Sancho is past all of you,” I noted. “So, she comes in.”

“She’s smiling,” said Sancho. “She looks at Baudoin.”

“But then something went off about that smile,” said Theo. “Did you mark it? It became something mocking.”

“I did notice that,” said Sancho. “I just thought that was her style. Something the customers like.”

“Is it?” I asked the Abbess.

“Not in this establishment,” she replied. “Men are respected here. At least, to their faces.”

“Curious,” I said. “Stay at your places. I will be Julie.”

“Too short,” said Sancho.

“Too much clothing,” grinned Theo.

“Enough,” I said.

I stepped back into the hallway.

“Announce me!” I called.

“This is ridiculous,” said the Abbess.

“Do it,” said Sancho.

She sighed.

“Senhors,” she said. “May I present—La Rossa!”

I glided into the room, saw Theo, ignored him, and turned my attention to the soldier standing in for Baudoin. I smiled at him.

The two soldiers smiled back at me.

“I think I have discovered the problem,” I announced.

“What is it?” asked Theo.

“The problem is that the two of you are idiots,” I said.

“That is a problem,” said Sancho to Theo.

“And the problem with the diagnosis is that there is no known cure,” added Theo. “How does our being idiots help?”

“It makes me feel better about myself,” I said. “Sancho, tell both of your counts to meet us in the courtyard of the château. Domina Abbess, I must ask you to join us.”

“Join you?” protested the Abbess. “I’ve never been to the Château Narbonnais in daylight. I cannot go there dressed like this.”

“Throw a cloak over that gown and have Sylvie attend you,” I said. “You might pass for a lady. Sancho will guarantee your safe conduct.”

“My men will escort you,” he said.

The men lit up with happiness.

“Anyone else?” asked Sancho.

“Might as well get the rest of the entourage,” I said. “Comminges, Sabran, the viguier. Oh, and a few more guards and the bade, in case things get out of hand. Good. Shall we be on our way?”

“Wait,” said Sancho.

We turned to look at him.

“I wish to speak to La Navarra,” he said to the Abbess. “Fetch her down for me.”

“This is hardly the time, even if you have the money,” objected Theo.

“There will be ample time for you to ridicule me later,” said Sancho. “Get her right away.”

The Abbess shook her head, but complied. A minute later, she returned with the Lady of the Talons.

“What’s going on?” asked La Navarra, glancing across the room. “You know I will take only one at a time.”

“Not anymore,” said Sancho. “Hear me out. I have come to realize in the past few days that life can end abruptly, and if we wait for happiness, it may slip our grasp. I want you to pack your things and-come with me. You will stay in my rooms tonight, and in the morning, we shall be married, if that is agreeable to you.”

She blinked. “But I am a prostitute,” she said.

“Not anymore,” he replied.

“You would marry a woman who has slept with men for money?”

“I am a mercenary,” said Sancho. “I have done things for money that are far worse. You have given pleasure for pay, I have taken lives for pay. I am in no position to judge you. But I want you for my own. Exclusively.”

“You would marry me?”

“On the morrow, my word upon it.”

“Can he be trusted?” she asked, turning to the rest of us. “Today, I trust him on all matters,” I said.

“All right,” said La Navarra, suddenly radiant. “I will pack right now. It won’t take long.”

She skipped up the stairs.

“Great,” sighed the Abbess. “That makes two girls I have to replace.”

“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” asked Theo. “Not at all,” said Sancho. “That’s why it will be fun. Now, I believe that we all have an appointment at the château?”

“Right,” I said. “Let’s go.”

I
s everybody here
?” called Claudia from the center of the courtyard. “Who are we waiting for? The viguier?”

“He’s coming now!” I shouted back. “Good day to you, Peire Roger!”

I was standing next to Count Raimon in the section of the courtyard between the Grand Tower and the Palace of Justice. Comminges, Foix, and Sabran were with us, along with a number of guards and attendants. The viguier emerged from the Grand Tower, looking irritated.

“Why am I being interrupted for this?” he demanded. “Because I said so,” said Count Raimon, who was standing next to me. “Now, get over here with the rest of us.”

“Of course, Dominus,” said the viguier, bowing immediately.

“Excellent,” said Claudia, surveying the gathered group. “Normally, my husband would be leading the festivities, but he lost a wager to me today.”

“Not yet, I haven’t,” I called.

“What is the nature of the wager?” asked Count Raimon. “Why, as to who will be the first to find Julie’s murderer,” she said.

“Who is Julie?” asked the count.

“La Rossa, the prostitute found stabbed to death next to Baudoin,” I said.

“Oh, was that her name?” he asked. “Never knew. Get on with it, Domina Fool.”

“Very good, Dominus,” she said. “Does everybody know everybody? They do? Wonderful. Now, in order to properly exonerate Baudoin, we must reveal the murderer. I think that should be done in front of the prisoner, don’t you, Dominus?”

“You had better make good on all of this, Domina Fool,” said the count in a low tone.

“I shall,” promised Claudia. “Have your men stand ready. The murderer is dangerous. Well, all murderers are dangerous by definition, but this one … anyhow, alert your men.”

“Baudoin will be in chains,” said the count. “There will be no danger.”

“Baudoin will be in chains, therefore not dangerous,” said Claudia. “Yet there may be danger from the murderer. Would you be so kind as to bring him up, Dominus?”

“I am already confused,” the count murmured to me. “Try living with that all the time,” I murmured back.

The count nodded at the bade, who entered the Palace of Justice. Sancho stood by with a squad, swords out.

We all stared at the entrance. Finally, the bade and two guards emerged, Baudoin in chains between them. Hue followed behind them.

The moment he was outside, Baudoin stopped and took a deep breath of fresh air. Then he looked up at the sky, searching for the sun which was emerging from behind a cloud. He nodded with satisfaction, then looked over the crowd until he saw me. He caught my eye and smiled.

“Good day to you, Senhor Baudoin,” said Claudia. “We have not met. I am Domina Gile, the fool.”

He turned at the sound of his name, but looked slightly blank. Hue stepped to his shoulder and translated. Baudoin’s expression became one of comprehension. He whispered something to Hue, who chuckled.

“He said, he is honored to meet the wife of Tan Pierre,” said Hue. “And he extends his condolences for your tragic marriage.”

Claudia laughed merrily.

“He jokes while in chains,” commented Count Raimon. “One must admire his style.”

“Give him my thanks,” said Claudia still laughing. “Few are wise enough to see the tragedy of two fools in love.”

Hue translated.

“Doesn’t your wife speak langue d’oïl?” asked the count. “Fluently,” I said. “I expect she’s playing to the locals.”

“He says that he now understands the farce inside his own tragic circumstances,” said Hue.

“Well said,” applauded Claudia. “And well translated. You must be Senhor Hue.”

“I am, Domina,” said Hue.

“Your langue d’oc is excellent,” said Claudia. “Where are you from?”

“Rouen, Domina.”

“Never been there,” said Claudia. She turned to face me. “My lord and master, please step forward for a moment.”

I immediately stepped forward. There was laughter from the crowd, which puzzled me, as I had not done anything that I considered amusing. Then I noticed that the count had kept pace with me.

“I beg your pardon, Dominus,” I said. “I thought she was speaking to me.”

“She was looking at me,” said the count. “And she did say lord and master.”

“She was looking at me,” I said. “I am, as her husband, her lord and master.”

“But I am lord and master over all in Toulouse,” said the count.

“Whom were you addressing?” I said to Claudia.

“You, my husband,” she replied.

“You see?” I said.

“My error,” he said. “An easy mistake to make. You were standing right next to me. I thought she was looking at me.”

“That’s the problem with you important people,” Claudia said.

“Is it?” replied the count in a tone that carried menace beneath its surface.

“The problem with you important people is that you think that you are important all of the time,” said Claudia. “Whereas the truth is, you’re important only some of the time.”

“But still important more than the unimportant people are,” argued the count.

“Precisely,” agreed Claudia. “However, there are times when the unimportant people, who are unimportant only because they aren’t as important as often as the important people, can still be more important than the important people.”

“I got lost somewhere in the middle of that,” I confessed.

“My husband, because he is insane, decided that Baudoin was not the murderer of Julie,” said my wife. “He decided to find out who was.”

This produced a number of exclamations from those present.

“He brought me into it because someone with sense should be involved,” continued Claudia. “But the flaw in his investigation was that he assumed that Baudoin was an important man.”

She turned to the prisoner.

“Senhor Baudoin, are you an important man?”

Hue whispered. Baudoin smiled and whispered back.

“He used to think so,” said Hue. “But he was recently disabused of the notion.”

“It’s all relative,” said Claudia. “Speaking of which, being a relative is what makes you important, isn’t it?”

“He says he had hoped that it would,” said Hue. “Dominus,” said Claudia, turning back to the count. “I come before you to speak for the unimportant. The women. The servants. The whores. The dead. I beseech you, will you hear my petition on their behalf?”

“At this moment, Domina, you are the most important person in this courtyard,” said the count.

“Very gallant, but hardly true,” she said. “Will you admit two more unimportant people to this courtyard? I will vouch for them.”

“Very well,” said the count.

Claudia turned with a dancer’s flourish and clapped her hands twice, the sounds echoing about the walls.

“Any idea where this is going?” muttered the count. “None whatsoever,” I said admiringly. “But I have a feeling that I lost this wager when I first set eyes upon her.”

“Lucky man,” said the count. “Domina Fool, who are those women?”

“Ah, you could not be expected to know them,” said Claudia as Sancho’s men led the Abbess and Sylvie through the gates. “I will ask the Count of Foix to make the introductions.”

The Count of Foix turned dark red with anger. “You go too far, woman!” he said.

“Manners, manners, senhor,” she admonished him. “You should not be condescending merely because they are your employees. However, since it falls to the fool to maintain courtesy in this court, allow me to present the Abbess and her servant, Sylvie.”

The two women bowed low.

I had the distinct impression that the Count of Toulouse and the Abbess were already acquainted, but neither let on.

“Greetings, ladies,” said the count. “You may rise.”

They straightened, the Abbess looking steadily at the men, many of whom shifted uncomfortably. Sylvie looked around in wonderment. She had probably never been here before.

“Now, Dominus,” said Claudia. “Here is where things should—“

“Pelfort!” screamed Sylvie in shock. “Pelfort! How can you be alive?”

She was staring at Hue. He looked back at her in horror.

“No,” he whispered.

“Pelfort, where is your master?” she screamed, tottering toward him. “Where is Guerau de Planes?”

“Silence, you old witch!” he screamed, drawing his sword.

He ran at the old woman, who stood frozen in fear. I was too far away. The two nearest guards were too slow.

But Claudia wasn’t. She went in low, crashing into the side of his knee. He swung, and my heart stopped, but the sword passed harmlessly over her head as the two of them tumbled to the ground. He screamed in agony, and she rolled away and sprang to her feet, a bloodied dagger in her hand. He lay bleeding onto the flat stones of the courtyard, the back of his left thigh sliced open.

“I suggest, senhor,” said Claudia to Hue, “that when pretending to be from the north, you do not speak langue d’oc like a native Toulousan. Sancho, he’ll need a surgeon if you want him to talk.”

“Come on, you sluggards,” said Sancho to the two guards. “You just let a woman show you up in front of the count. Get this bastard patched up and brought to the Grande Chambre.”

“Oh, and would you be a dear and wash this off for me?” added Claudia, tossing her dagger to one of them.

She walked up to me smugly, held up one finger, then turned to the count.

“I will explain everything inside,” she said. “I would be grateful if someone could get Sylvie a cup of wine. She’s had quite a shock. And unchain Baudoin. He’s no murderer.”

“But is he my brother?” asked the count.

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Claudia. “That puzzle is not mine to solve. By your leave, Dominus, I will attend you in the Grande Chambre.”

She went inside. He looked at me quizzically and held up one finger.

“The wager was for one month of getting up with the baby,” I said.

“Steep,” he said, wincing. “All right, everyone inside. Let the prisoner free, and bring him in with us.”

Baudoin looked at the bade without comprehension as the latter unlocked his fetters.

“Will someone explain to me what just happened?” he cried.

“Come on in,” I said to him in langue d’oïl. “It’s going to be a long story. I will take over Hue’s duties as your translator.”

“Have I been freed?”

“Freed and exonerated,” I said. “It appears that your man Hue killed La Rossa.”

“Hue? But why?”

“The long story is this way,” I said, taking his arm. “By the way, just out of curiosity, in what month were you born?”

“November. Why?”

It still didn’t settle the issue of the issue. Could have been a last attempt at reconciliation between Constance and her husband. Could have been a premature birth of an adulterous liaison.

Could have been none of my business.

“Now that you are free, you must have us as the entertainment for your first birthday in Toulouse,” I said smoothly. “But remember to pay us in advance. Shall we join the others?”

W
hen we entered
the Grande Chambre, the servants were scurrying about, setting up chairs in a semicircle around my wife. Helga waved to us from a seat near the back. We went to sit with her.

“These are the best seats you could get?” I asked.

“We’re fools, not nobles,” she said. “Except for Baudoin. Nobody knows what he is.”

Baudoin laughed. She had been speaking in langue d’oïl so that he was made aware of the gibe.

“I will be honored to sit with fools, young lady,” he said.

“I’m Helga,” she said.

“I am Baudoin, and I am at your service,” he said, bowing and kissing her hand.

“I like Parisians,” she said, batting her eyelashes.

I sat between them. I am not sure which one I was protecting.

“Domina Fool, you have the floor,” announced Count Raimon.

“Thank you, Dominus,” she said. “In your courtyard a few minutes ago, I demonstrated to you how two men standing next to each other might each think a woman standing some distance away is looking solely at him. Earlier today, my husband, my daughter, three of your soldiers and I recreated the events of the night Baudoin went to the bordel. I stood where Julie stood, and two of your soldiers stood where Baudoin and Hue stood. I smiled at one, and both smiled back, each thinking he was the one upon whose face my favor fell. Both Sancho and my husband, who were present at the bordel that night, thought that La Rossa was looking at Baudoin with a smile that turned to one of mockery. But the smirk was not for Baudoin. It was for Hue. Or, as he was once known, Pelfort.”

“But who is this Pelfort?” asked the count. “You say he spoke like a Toulousan.”

“He was a servant here,” said Claudia. “He served the family of de Planes. Julie, another servant of that household, was his wife.”

“Ferrer de Planes,” said the count. “I vaguely remember him. He lost his son, and went on Crusade, didn’t he?”

“Oc, Dominus. His son and Pelfort went on a journey to Paris, but disappeared along the way and were never seen again. Julie ended up in the bordel.

“The night Baudoin came there, Pelfort was at his side. She looked at one of them, and was killed that night. My husband and I looked for every possible reason why Baudoin would kill her, and found none. Clearly, Baudoin was not the reason. But if she was killed because of some secret she knew, and it wasn’t Baudoin, then it had to have been Hue. The servant. The unimportant man.