Fool Chapter 22

TWENTY-TWOAT THE WHITE TOWER jerk-off cried the raven.No help was he in my stealthy entry to the whiten Tower. Id packed my bells with re of imports, and darkened my face with the same, scarce nary(prenominal)amount of camo would help if the raven raised an alarm. I should stool had a arrive got assume him d witness with a crossbow bolt long before I go forth the Tower.I lay in a sh t discover ensemble(a)ow, flat-bottomed skiff Id borrowed from a ferryman, cove inflammation with rags and branches so I dexterity appear unsloped another(prenominal) mass of jetsam floating in the Thames. I paddled with my right hand, and the frozen piss felt the the likes of needles until my arm went numb. Sheets of ice drifted in the water virtu entirelyy me. Another good cold-blooded night and I aptitude establish walked into the Traitors Gate, rumpher than paddled. The river fed the moat, and the moat led down the stairs a low arch and finished the gate where English nobility ha d been manner of speaking their family members for hundreds of years on the way to the chopping block.Two iron-clad gates fit to set forthher at the center of the arch, chained in the middle below the waterline, and they travel ever-so-slightly in the current. There was a gap on that point, at the top, where the gates met. not so wide that a soldier with weapons could fit through, plainly a cat, a rat, or a spry and nimble fool on the slim side might easily pass over. And so I did.There were no sentry gos at the st nonpareil steps inside, but twelve feet of water separated me from them, and my skiff would not fit through the gap at the top of the gate where I was perched. A fool was getting wet, thither was no way close to it. still it seemed to me that the water was sh in bothow, just now a foot or two abstruse. Perhaps I could keep my raiment dry. I took them off and tucked them into my jerkin, and then slid down the gate into the cold water.Great dog-buggering bollock s it was cold. Only to my knees, but cold. And I would experience make it undiscovered, me mobilize backs, if I hadnt let slip a rather emphatic whispering of, Great dog-buggering bollocks, thats cold I was met at the top of the stairs by the pointy part of a halberd, leveled malevolently at my chest.For fucks sake, tell I. Do your worst, but get it d adept and drag my luggage compartment inside where its fervid. grievous bodily harm? tell the yeoman at the other end of the spear. Sir?Aye, flow tongue to I.I havent seen you for months. Whats that each(prenominal) over your face?Its clay. Im in disguise.Oh right. Why dont you capture in and warfarem up. Must be dreadful cold in your wet stocking feet in that respect. technical yardght, lad, tell I. It was the young, spot-faced yeoman whom Id chastised on the wall when Regan and Goneril were offset printing arriving to gain their inheritance. Shouldnt you lodge at your post, though? Duty and all that?He led me crosswise the cobbled courtyard, into a servants entrance to the main castle and down the stairs into the kitchen.Nah, its the Traitors Gate, innit? tuck away on it as big as your head. Aint no one approach path through there. not all bad. Its forth of the wind. Not like up on the wall. Y sock the Duchess Regan is living here at the Tower now? I took your advice about not talking about her boffnacity,43 correct with the duke dead and all, enkindlet be too careful. Although, I caught sight of her in a dressing clothe one day she was up on the parapet outside her solar. coiffely flanks on that princess, despite the danger of death and all for advancein so, sir.Aye, the lady is fair, and her gadonk as fine as frog fur, lad, but even your steadfast tranquilize allow for get you hung if you dont cease with the thinking aloud. easy lay, you scroungy flea-bitten plague rat babble out Love verbalize I. Thou dragon-breathed wart farm, how art thou?The ox-bottomed cook tried to hide her jo y by casting an onion at me, but there was a grin there. Youve not eaten one full plate since you were last in my kitchen, have you?We heard you was dead, give tongue to Squeak, a crescent of a smile for me beneath her freckles.Feed the pest, verbalise burble. And clean that mess off his face. Rutting with the pigs again, were you, Pocket?Jealous?Not cover likely, say Bubble.Squeak sit me down on a shop by the wake up and while I change my feet she scrubbed the clay from my face and out of my hair, mercilessly battering me with her bosoms as she worked.Ah, groundwork sweetish home.So, has anyone seen Drool?In the dungeon with the king, give tongue to Squeak. Although the guard aint supposed to accredit it. She eyed the young yeoman who stood by.I knew that, he said.What of the kings men, his knights and guards? In the barracks?Nah, said the yeoman. Castle guard was a dogs breakfast until Captain Curan came down from Gloucester. Hes got a baronial-born knight as captai n of every watch and the old guard man for man with any new ones. Crashing huge camps of soldiers outside the walls, forces of Cornwall to the double-u and Albany on the north. They say the Duke of Albany is staying with his men at camp. Wont come to the Tower.Wise choice, with so many vipers about the castle. What of the princesses? I asked Bubble. Although she seemed never to kick in her kitchen, she knew what was going on in every corner of the fortress.They aint talking, said Bubble. pickings meals in their old quarters they had when they was girls. Goneril in the east tower of the main keep. Regan in her solar on the outer wall on the south. Theyll come together for the midday meal, but only if that arsehole Gloucester is there.Can you get me to them, Bubble. Unseen?I could sew you up in a feed pig and send it over.Yes, make lovely, but I did hope to return undiscovered, and tracking gravy might draw the attention of the castles cats and dogs. Regrettably, Ive had experie nce with much(prenominal) intimacys.We keister dress you as one of the serving lads, then, said Squeak. Regan had us bring in boys instead of our usual maids. She likes to taunt and threaten them until they cry.I regarded Bubble with steely recrimination. Why didnt you suggest that?I wanted to see you sewn up in a suckling pig, you oily rascal.Bubble has struggled with her deep affection for me for years.Very well, then, said I. A serving boy it is.You go through, Pocket, said Cordelia, age sixteen. Goneril and Regan say that my mother was a sorceress.Yes, Id heard that, love.If thats so, then Im eminent of it. It means she didnt need more or less mangy man for her power. She had her own.Banished then, wasnt she?Well, yes, that or drowned, no one lead really say. render forbids me to ask about it. merely my point is that a woman should come to her power on her own. Did you pick out that the wizard Merlin gave up his powers to Vivian in exchange for her party favors, and she became a wide sorceress and queen, and fructify Merlin to sleep in a cave for a hundred years for his trouble?Men are like that, lamb. You supply them your favors and next affaire you know theyre snoring away like a bear in a cave. Way of the world, it is.You didnt do that when my sisters gave you their favors.They did no such thing.They did, too. Many times. Everyone in the castle knows it.Vicious rumors.Fine, then. When you have enjoyed the favors of women, who shall remain nameless, did you line asleep afterward?Well, no. But neither did I give up my magical powers or my kingdom.But you would have, wouldnt you?Say, enough talk of sorcerers and such. What say we go down to the chapel and convert back to Christianity? Drool drank all the communion wine and ate all the leftover host when the bishop was ousted, so Ill wager hes blessed enough to bring us into the fold without clergy. Burped the body of Christ for a week, he did.Youre trying to change the subject.Curses Disco vered exclaimed the marionette Jones. Thatll teach you, you sooty-souled snake. Have him whipped, princess.Cordelia laughed, liberated Jones from my grasp, and clouted me on the chest with him. Even when she was enceinte she bore a weakness for puppety conspiracy and Punch-and-Judy justice.Now, fool, speak lawfulness if the truth in you hasnt died starving from your neglect. Would you give up your powers and your kingdom for a ladys favor?That would depend on the lady, wouldnt it?Say me, for example?Vous? said I, my eyebrows raised in the manner of the perfectly keister french.Oui, said she, in the language of love.Not a chance, said I. Id be snoring before you had time to denote me your personal deity, which you would, of course. Its a burden I bear. Deep sleep of the innocent, Id have. (Or, you know, the deep sleep of the deeply shagged innocent.) I suspect, come morning, youd have to prompt me of your name.You didnt sleep after my sisters had you, I know it.Well, threat o f violent, post-coital death leave alone keep you on the alert, wont it?She crawled across the rug until she was close then. You are a dreadful liar.What was your name?She clouted me on the head with Jones and kissed me quickly, but with feeling. That was the only time.Id have your power and your kingdom, fool.Give me back my puppet, thou nameless tart.Regans solar was big than I remembered it. A fairly grand, round room, with a fireplace and a dining table. Six of us brought in her supper and set it out on the table. She was all in red, as usual, snowy shoulders and raven hair warmed to the eye by orange firelight.Wouldnt you rather lurk behind the tapestry, Pocket?She waved the others out of the room and closed the entre.I kept my head down. How did you know it was me?You didnt cry when I shouted at you.Blast, I should have known.And you were the only serving boy wearing a codpiece.Cant hide ones light under a bushel, can one? She was infuriating. Did nothing surprise her? She spoke as if Id been sent for and shed been expecting me at any moment. Rather took the joy out of all the stealth and disguise. I was tempted to tell her shed been duped and Drool-shagged just to see her reaction, but alas, there were still guards who were loyal to her, and I wasnt sure she wouldnt have me killed as it was. (Id left my knives with Bubble in the kitchen, not that theyd help against a platoon of yeomen.) So, lady, how goes the mourning?amazingly well. Grief suits me, I think. Grief or war, Im not sure which. But Ive had good appetite and my complexions been rosy. She picked up a hand mirror and regarded herself, then caught my reflection and turned. But, Pocket, what are you doing here?Oh, loyalty to the cause and all. With the French at our bloody doors, archetype Id come back to help defend home and hearth. It was probably best we not pursue the reasons why I was there, so I pressed on. How goes the war, then?Complicated. Affairs of state are complicated, Pocket. I wouldnt expect a fool to understand.But Im a royal, now, kitten. Didnt you know?She target down her mirror and looked as if she might burst out laughing. carefree fool. If you could catch nobility by touch youd have been a knight years ago, wouldnt you? But alas, youre still common as cat shit.Ha Yes, once. But now, cousin-german, blue blood runs in my veins. In fact, Ive a idea to start a war and shag some relatives, which I suppose are the prime pastimes of royalty.Nonsense. And dont call me cousin.Shag the country and kill some relatives, then? Ive been noble less than a week, I dont have all the protocol memorized yet. Oh, and we are cousins, kitten. Our fathers were brothers.Impossible. Regan nibbled at some dried fruit Bubble had laid out on the tray.Lears brother Canus raped my mother on a bridge in Yorkshire while Lear held her down. I am the government issue of that unpleasant union. Your cousin. I bowed. At your bloody service.A slit. I might have known.Oh, but bas tards are vessels of promise, are they not? Or didnt I watch you slay your lord the duke, to run to the arms of a bastard who is, I deliberate, now the Earl of Gloucester. By the way, how goes the romance? Torrid and unsavory, I trust.She sat down then and ran her fingernails through her jet hair as if raking thoughts out of her scalp. Oh, I fancy him fine although hes been a bit disappointing since that first time. But the intrigue is bloody exhausting, what with Goneril trying to bed Edmund, and he not being able to show me deference for fear of losing Albanys fight back, and bloody France trespassing(a) in the midst of it all. If Id known all that my husband had to tend to Id have waited a while before killing him.There, there, kitten. I moved around behind her and rubbed her shoulders. Your complexion is rosy and your appetite good, and you are, as always, a authentic feast of shagability. Once youre queen you can have everyone beheaded and school a long nap.Thats just it . Its not like I can just coiffe on the crown and go sovereigning merrily on God, St. George, and the whole rotting mess into history. I have to buck the fucking French, then Ive got to kill Albany, Goneril, and I suppose Ill have to find Father and have something heavy fall on him or the people testament never accept me.Good news on that, love. Lears in the dungeon. imbalanced as a hatter, but alive.He is?Aye. Edmund just returned from Dover with him. You didnt know?Edmund is back?Not three hours ago. I followed him back.Bastard He hasnt even sent word that hes returned. I sent a letter to him in Dover.This letter? I took the letter that Oswald had dropped. Id broken the seal, of course, but she recognized it and snatched it out of my hand.How did you get that? I sent that with Gonerils man, Oswald, to give to Edmund personally.Yes, well, I sent Oswald to vermin Valhalla before delivery was secured.You killed him?I told you, kitten, Im nobility now a homicidal little cunt l ike the rest of you. Just as well, too, that letters a flitty bit o butterfly toss, innit? Dont you have any advisers to help you with that sort of thing? A chancellor or a chamberlain, a bloody bishop or someone?Ive no one. Everyone is at the castle in Cornwall.Oh, love, let your cousin Pocket help.Would you?Of course. First, lets see to sister. I took two of the vials from the purse at my belt. This red one is deadly poison. But the blue one is only like a poison, talent the same signs as if one is dead, but they will but sleep one day for each drop they drink. You could put two drops of this in your sisters wine say, when you are ready to attack the French and for two days she would sleep the sleep of the dead while you and Edmund did your will, and without losing the support of Albany in the war.And the poison?Well, kitten, the poison may not be needed. You could defeat France, take Edmund for your own, and come to an agreement with your sister and Albany.I have an agreement w ith them now. The kingdom is divided as father decreed.Im only maxim that you may fight the French, have Edmund, and not have to slay your sister.And what if we dont defeat France?Well, then, you have the poison, dont you?Well, thats bollocks counseling, said Regan.Wait, cousin, I havent told you the part where you make me Duke of Buckingham yet. Id like that dodgy old palace, Hyde Park. St. Jamess Park, and a monkey.Youre round the bendNamed Jeff.Get outI palmed the love letter from the table as I exited.Quickly through the corridors, across the courtyard, and back to the kitchen where I traded my codpiece for a pair of waiters breeches. It was one thing to leave Jones and my coxcomb with the ferryman, another to secret my blades away with Bubble, but giving up my codpiece was like losing my spirit.I was nearly undone by its enormity, said I to Squeak, to whom I handed the portable den of my manly inequity.Aye, a family of squirrels could nest in the extra space, Squeak observed, dropping a fistful of the walnuts shed been shelling into the empty prick pouch.Wonder you didnt rattle like a dried gourd when you walked, said Bubble.Fine. Cast aspersions on my manhood if you will, but Ill not protect you when the French arrive. Theyre unnaturally fond of public kiss and they smell of snails and cheese. I will laugh ha as you both are mercilessly cheese-snogged by froggy marauders.Dont really sound that bad to me, said Squeak.Pocket, youd better be off, lad, said Bubble. Gonerils supper is going up now.Adieu, said I, a preview of the Frenchy future of my former friends and soon to be frog-snogged traitorous tarts. Adieu. I bowed. I feigned fainting with a great wrist-to-brow flourish, and I left.(I admit it, one does like to lubricate his recurrent entrances and exits with a bit of melodrama. Performance is all to the fool.)Gonerils quarters were less spacious than Regans, but luxurious, and there was a fire going. I hadnt set foot here since shed left the castle to conjoin Albany, but upon returning I found I was simultaneously reddened and filled with dread memories simmering under the lid of consciousness, I suppose. She wore cobalt with gold trim, daringly cut. She must have known Edmund was back. PumpkinPocket? What are you doing here? She waved the other servers and a young lady who had been lace her hair out of the room. And why are you dressed in that plastered outfit?I know, said I. Poncy breeches. Without my codpiece I feel defenseless.I think they make you look taller, she said.A dilemma. Taller in breeches or stunningly virile in a cod? Both illusions. Each with its advantage. Which do you think makes a better impression on the fairer sex, love, tall or hung?Isnt your apprentice both?But hes oh Yes. She bit into a winter plum.I see, said I. So, what is it with Edmund? All the black kit? What it was, was she was bewitched, was what it was.Edmund. She sighed. I dont think Edmund loves me.And I sat down, with all of Gonerils luncheon repast set before me, and considered cooling system my forehead in the tureen of broth. Love? Sodding, bloody, tossing, bloody, sodding, bloody love? Irrelevant, superfluous, bloody, ruddy, rotten, sodding love? What ho? Wherefore? What the fuck? Love?Love? said I.No one has ever loved me, said Goneril.What about your mother? sure as shooting your mother?I dont remember her. Lear had her executed when we were little.I didnt know.It was not to be spoken of.Jesus, then? Comfort in Christ?What comfort? Im a duchess, Pocket, a princess, perhaps a queen. You cant rule in Christ. Are you daft? You have to ask Christ to leave the room. Your very first war or execution and youre right fucked for forgiveness, arent you? Theres Jesusy disapproval and scowling at least(prenominal) and you have to act like you dont see it.Hes infinite in his forgiveness, said I. It says so somewhere.As should we all be, it also says. But I dont believe it. Ive never forgiven our father for killing our mother and I never shall. I dont believe, Pocket. Theres no comfort or love there. I dont believe.Me, either, lady. So, sod Jesus. for sure Edmund will fall in love with you when you become closer and hes had a chance to murder your husband. Love needs room to grow, like a rose. Or a tumor.Hes passionate enough, although never so enthusiastic as that first night in the tower.Have you introduced him to your well special tastes?Those will not win his heart.Nonsense, love, a black-hearted prince like Edmund verily starves to have his shag smacked by a fair damsel like yourself. Probably what hes craving, just too shy to ask.I think another has caught his eye. I think he fancies my sister.No, thats his fathers eye she caught, well, speared, really, I thought, but then I thought better. Perhaps I can help you resolve the conflict, pumpkin. And at that, I produced the red and blue vials from my purse. I explained how one was for death-like sleep, and the other afforded mo re unceasing rest. And as I did so, I cradled the silk purse that still held the last true puffball the witches had given me.What if I were to use it on Goneril? Bewitch her to love her own husband? Surely Albany would forgive her. He was a noble chap, despite being a noble. And with that, Regan could have that villain Edmund for herself, the conflict mingled with the sisters would be settled, Edmund would be satisfied with his new role as Duke of Cornwall and Earl of Gloucester, and all would be well. Of course there were the issues of France attacking, Lear in the dungeon, and a wise and fairish fool whose fate was uncertainPumpkin, said I, perhaps if you and Regan came to an understanding. Perhaps if she were put to sleep until her army had done its duty against France. Perhaps mercy And that was as far as I got, as the bastard Edmund came through the door at that moment.What is this? demanded the bastard.Dont you fucking knock? said I. Bloody common bastard Youd have though t, now that I, too, was a half-noble bastard, that my disdain for Edmund might have diminished. Strangely, no.Guard. Take this worm to the dungeon until I have time to script with him.Four guards, not of the old Tower force, came in and chased me around the solar several times before I was tripped up by the constrained step of my waiter breeches. The lad theyd been made for must have been smaller even than I. They pinned my arms behind me and dragged me out of the room. As I went backward through the door, I called, GonerilShe held up her hand and they stopped there and held me.You have been loved, said I.Oh, take him out and beat him, said Goneril.She jests, said I. The lady jests.