With a Jester of Kindness

by K. C. Herbel

  “There’s nothin’ in there but old spiders, I’ll wager,” said Billy.

  “I’ll take that wager,” Lady Myrredith said defiantly.

  “What wager?” piped Billy.

  “That I can find more berries in there, than you can out here.”

  Billy surveyed the heath with a discerning eye. “Done!” he said at last. Then he ran to the nearest blueberry bush and began to pick the fruit.

  Lady Myrredith laughed and strolled off to her hollow, the basket swinging from her arm. “Remember, William . . . we’re only counting the berries in your basket, not the ones in your belly!”

  Billy looked over his shoulder at her and licked his blue-stained lips.

  “But eating them is half the fun!” he protested.

  “Yes, but we can’t count what we can’t see.”

  “Wait! Lady Myrredith?” shouted Billy. She stopped and turned to face him. “What do I get when I win the wager?” he asked.

  “Well, when I win the wager, young man, you will owe me a song,” said Lady Myrredith, then quickly added, “and I choose the song.”

  “But what if I win?”

  “Then, I guess . . .” said Lady Myrredith playfully, “you get to choose the song!”

  Without giving Billy a chance to say another word, Lady Myrredith turned and went on her way, laughing delightfully. Billy stood openmouthed and speechless. For a moment he thought to argue for a different prize but then realized that the only thing he would get was further behind on the wager.

  Billy went from point to point like a bee, hovering at each blueberry bush just long enough to collect their bounty. He expertly picked them, choosing only the ripe berries and placing them in his basket. Of course some few did manage to escape the basket and find their way mysteriously to his mouth.

  Billy picked blueberries until he noticed that his shadow had grown considerably long. He looked at the half-full basket in his indigo hands, then back the way he had come. He had walked a long distance from the spot where he and Lady Myrredith made their wager. The land sloped gently down away from him, and now he could see over a large portion of the heath. Looking down to the road, Billy saw a wisp of smoke rising up between the seemingly tiny wagons, a sure sign that the others had finished setting up camp.

  Billy started to run back to the wagons, allowing the incline to move him along faster and faster. As he cut his way through the heather, he caught a glimpse of Sir Hugh entering the hollow his competitor had chosen for berry picking. Billy nimbly changed his direction and headed straight for the little grove. His new course brought him to a small log, which he jumped over, startling a hare from its hiding place. It raced along with him momentarily then ducked into a hole and disappeared.

  Winded but cheerful, Billy came to the edge of the woods. He kneeled to catch his breath. Between the branches and vines, Billy again caught sight of Hugh. He stood up and started to wave to his noble friend but then decided it would be much more fun to sneak up on the King’s Champion and surprise him.

  Carefully, step by step, Billy stalked his prey. He had always liked to sneak around in the woods near his home. He was good at it, much to the chagrin of the Valley of the Yew’s inhabitants—the usual target of his impish disposition. He had hounded hunters, shadowed trackers, and even snared a few trappers in his youth, not to mention the dozen or so farmer’s wives he scared half out of their wits. In the woods Billy felt at home, never nervous or clumsy.

  Sneaking up on Sir Hugh should be easy.

  Billy snaked his way through the woods. He thought he heard birds chirping up ahead but then realized it was Lady Myrredith’s laugh.

  Good, I’ll sneak up on both of them!

  Billy’s heart raced as he imagined the faces of Lady Myrredith and Sir Hugh when he jumped out to scare them. He followed their voices as he crept through the dim light of the underbrush. He stopped abruptly when he spied an opening just beyond the trees in front of him. Shafts of sunlight shone through the tree limbs and ivy onto a small patch of heather no larger than his room at home. Sir Hugh and Lady Myrredith stood on opposite sides.

  Sir Hugh spoke in a low voice. “He’s not with you?”

  “No, I suppose he’s off picking blueberries,” she replied.

  Hugh smiled and said, “I thought I might find you here.”

  The two nobles stood with their eyes locked on each other. Neither one moved or said a word for several heartbeats. Billy was about to pounce, when Lady Myrredith spoke.

  “It’s been a long time, Hugh.”

  “Aye, Myrredith.”

  They were quiet again. Both Lady Myrredith and Hugh took a step towards each other. Billy was too caught up in watching them to initiate his plan.

  “Do you remember?” she asked moving closer.

  “Aye,” he said with a nod.

  “Do you?” she whispered.

  They were very close now, and Hugh answered her by slipping his arm around her waist and suddenly lifting her up into his arms. “I was going to carry you away, like this!” he said with a laugh. Then he spun around several times.

  “Put me down!” she protested. “What are you doing?”

  “I thought I was carrying you away.” Hugh stopped turning and stood, holding Lady Myrredith in his arms. “I couldn’t then . . .”

  “Oh? Couldn’t you?” she said, no longer resisting.

  “I wasn’t strong enough yet.”

  “But you saved me from the terrible dragon . . .” said Myrredith, playing the damsel in distress.

  “He wasn’t so terrible,” rebutted Hugh.

  “And you were going to take me home, to your castle.”

  Sir Hugh’s demeanor took a sudden turn. The smile left his face, and he slowly lowered Lady Myrredith to the ground.

  “What is it, Hugh?”

  “It’s nothing,” he answered, turning away.

  “No,” she said, grabbing his hand. She moved around in front of Hugh, clasping his hand between both of hers. Then she continued, “It’s me . . . Myrredith. The one you could always talk to. Remember?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve spoiled the moment.”

  “There will be other moments, Hugh.”

  He reached out and gently stroked her hair with the back of his fingers. “Not like this one.”

  Hugh looked away from her again, and Billy saw the anguish etched on his face. It was like seeing all the woes in Lady Myrredith’s eyes for the first time. Since that moment, he couldn’t help but see them. Now he felt as if Sir Hugh’s face would never seem the same either.

  Lady Myrredith placed her hand on Hugh’s shoulder. He struck the trunk of a tree with his fist.

  “Confound him!” he whispered.

  Hugh inhaled deeply and let out a heavy sigh. With his index finger, he rubbed his eyebrow thoughtfully. He took another deep breath before beginning.

  “When you mentioned taking you home, I thought about the home of my childhood—Castle Gallugarth. Home of my father, and his father, and his father . . . My mother’s home, until Ergyfel came and took it.”

  Billy could taste the bitterness on Hugh’s tongue as he spoke.

  “I’m sorry, Hugh,” said Lady Myrredith.

  “And my father . . . declared a traitor by that snake! That coward . . . It destroyed my mother. After . . .” Hugh took in a breath that caught in his chest. “She wasn’t able to take care of me. And me, the son of a ‘traitor’ . . . What future did I have? I would be lost if not for your father.”

  Sir Sedgemore—a traitor? thought Billy. Not possible!

  Hugh looked down at himself and frowned. “The devil took everything. My mother’s home, my father’s honor . . . All that I have left,” he said stretching out his arms, “my entire domain, stretches from here to here.”

  “Some might envy the simplicity of your situation. No taxes, no servants, no household worries . . .”

  “No legacy, nothing to inherit . . . Even if I had a son, he�
��d get nothing of value.”

  “Oh yes he would!” said Myrredith.

  Billy silently agreed. His thoughts wandered to what it might be like to be the son of Sir Hugh, the King’s Champion. What a fantastic father he would make.

  “Once again, I’m sorry,” said Hugh. “Confound this self-pity!”

  “It’s only natural, Hugh,” said Lady Myrredith. “You’re entitled.”

  “Entitled?” growled Hugh, raising his voice. “I am entitled to nothing! I am the King’s Champion!”

  “Even the King’s Champion must have feelings,” said Myrredith.

  “Feelings . . . or weakness?”

  “Hugh . . .” Lady Myrredith started.

  “Myrredith,” said Hugh, stopping her, “I don’t think that even you can understand. I can allow myself no weakness. I must be as straight and constant as my sword. Not just because I am the King’s Champion, but because of who I am . . . who my father was. That will never change.”

  “Is that why you didn’t come?” she asked.

  Hugh straightened and stepped back. “I was in battle! The army of Gwyddea was invading, and I . . .”

  “No. Not that,” said Myrredith, taking a step towards him.

  Hugh continued, driven by feelings long caged. “I left as soon as the battle was won. If I had only known before . . .”

  Lady Myrredith opened her mouth but paused before speaking.

  “What would you have done, Hugh?” lamented Myrredith. “What could you have done?”

  “I would have come for you.”

  “And what of your duty—your honor?”

  Hugh turned away from her. “Damn duty, damn honor,” he whispered. “I was in love with you. I was a fool!”

  “And the kingdom?”

  “Yes,” hissed Hugh, “even the kingdom. I would have left it all behind for you.”

  Billy could see Hugh’s body shake as a single tear slipped from his eye and fell to the ground.

  “So that’s why I haven’t seen you for so long.”

  “Cyndyn Hall was the nearest thing to home I knew, but when your father gave your hand to Aonghas . . .”

  “I didn’t realize that you felt so deeply,” said Myrredith solemnly. “And you never fell in love?”

  “I have given my heart but to one lady.”

  Myrredith gingerly placed her hand on Hugh’s shoulder. He glanced at it then strode away through the thicket and vanished. The one love of his life remained behind, staring after him with tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Oh, Hugh,” she whispered. “That wound was to both our hearts.” She closed her eyes and fell to her knees sobbing. “We just weren’t meant to be.”

  Billy lay still on the ground, stunned. He was vaguely aware of a salty taste on his tongue, and his vision becoming blurry. He wanted to run to his friend, hold her hand, and reassure her, but he dared not. If she knew that he had been there, it would only make things worse. Billy desperately wanted to be anywhere else but was afraid to move. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Lady Myrredith and wished that he were home.

  Billy waited for a long while, wondering how he was going to get out of his predicament. There was a rustle of leaves, and he opened his eyes to see Lady Myrredith walking away through the trees. He got to his feet slowly and then ran to the open heath. As he broke into the clearing he saw his patron emerging from the evergreens. He froze where he stood, not sure what approach to take with her. Then she saw him.

  “Over here, William!” she called.

  Billy waved to her and reluctantly took his first step towards her. With each step his pace slowly increased, until his feet were racing as fast as his thoughts.

  “Well,” she said as he joined her, “how well did you do?”

  Billy suddenly had trouble getting his feet and tongue to work at the same time. “Um, um,” he stammered, losing step with her. “Well—fairly well—and you?”

  Lady Myrredith looked down into her nearly empty basket. She held it out to show Billy. “You were right,” she said at last. “Nothing but old spiders in there.”

  Billy just nodded, wondering what he should say.

  “That’s fine,” he said at last. “I’ve still got enough to make pies.”

  “Are you well, William?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your eyes.”

  “What?”

  “They’re a little red.”

  “Oh . . .” Billy froze again, his mind whizzing into high speed.

  Lady Myrredith stopped as well and waited for his explanation.

  “Well, um, my eyes always get red when I run through the heather.”

  Billy braved a look at his patron, hoping that, just this once, she wouldn’t realize he was lying. Fortunately she just smiled and nodded.

  “Me too,” she said.

  “Yes . . . I see that,” said Billy as they continued their walk back to the wagons.

  While the last details of setting up camp were finished, Megan and Rhianna began to make the evening meal. Billy, after insisting that he was no stranger to pots and pans, was allowed to help. Megan and Rhianna were horrified when Billy started to place the ingredients for his “blueberry pie” into small pans and cover them with clay.

  “You are not making mud pies in my pots!” bellowed Megan.

  “It’s not a mud pie,” said Billy as he shoved one into the fire.

  “But that’s dirty!” exclaimed Rhianna. “Her ladyship won’t . . .”

  “Be patient,” answered Billy. “All will be revealed.”

  “I don’t know . . .” said Megan, doubtfully shaking her head.

  Billy looked up at her from the fire. His hands and smiling face were smeared with mud. He winked and said two words: “Trust me.”

  The meal served by Megan and Rhianna was well received by all, as both were excellent cooks, on or off the road. All eyes were on Billy as he removed his strange concoctions from the fire and allowed them to cool. When Billy saw that Lady Myrredith was finished with the main course, he took one of his creations and placed it in front of her.

  Lady Myrredith looked askance at the dubious object before her. “What should I do with it?” she asked with one eyebrow cocked.

  “Break it,” said Billy. “Here, use this mallet.”

  Billy handed Lady Myrredith a small wooden mallet. She took the mallet and tapped the top of the hardened dark clay. Her first few strikes did nothing.

  “Perhaps his lordship’s mace will do the trick,” said Gardd.

  Everyone laughed but Billy, who was nervously watching his patron. She glanced over to him, and he nodded for her to continue.

  Lady Myrredith smacked the top of the small earthen dome, and suddenly it cracked. A small trace of steam escaped through the cracks and wafted in front of Sir Aonghas, who was still rolling with laughter. Suddenly he stopped and sniffed. Then he pulled the pan from in front of his wife and leaned over it.

  “It smells good!” said the massive warrior.

  Sir Aonghas broke away the rest of the clay to reveal a golden brown pie. Without hesitation, he cut out a large piece and took a bite from the steaming morsel. Everyone held their breath and watched as Lady Cyndyn’s husband attempted to cool his mouth.

  “It’s hot,” he said taking a gulp of wine. Then finally he added, “Say, this is good!” Then just as quickly as he had taken the first bite, he took another. Although he had a problem with the temperature, it was obvious from the way he crammed the pie into his mouth that he was enjoying it immensely.

  Quickly the other pies were dispensed and cracked open. There was enough for everyone to have one piece and for a couple to have two. Much to Billy’s credit and amusement, there were no leftovers.

  When dinner was finished, and the last pot clean, Billy and Malcolm entertained around the campfire. After they juggled together, Malcolm juggled knives while Billy sang. The men who weren’t on watch added their own small talents to the merrimen
t by singing and dancing. Syrail, the largest guard, tossed around two smaller men, Terry and Tom Fox, in an impromptu tumbling routine that had most everyone roaring with laughter. However, it was the unwitting sergeant of the guard, Gardd, who really brought the assembly to their knees. The well-liked, but completely tone-deaf, old campaigner struggled at length to teach Billy a battle hymn he said he had “sung with the late Lord Cyndyn, God rest his soul,” when they fought side by side against the King of Gwyddea. Finally Albyn and Fercus, two old campaigners in their own right, came to Billy’s rescue by singing the actual tune. Others then joined in and would have liked to continue singing into the night, but it was time to turn in. By the time Sir Hugh and the rest of the first watch were turning in, Billy was soundly asleep.

  The next day, they traveled until late afternoon. Apart from this, the small entourage preceded down the rugged road in much the same manner. The days dragged on, each one much like the one before, the scenery subtly changing as they pressed deeper into the heart of the kingdom. Hugh spoke very little during this time, and Billy’s enthusiasm for the trip was starting to fade.

  “Oh, we’re never gonna get to the king’s court,” he mumbled.

  Sir Hugh, riding next to the wagon, overheard him and replied, “We are almost there now, my friend.”

  “We are?” sparked Billy, snapping out of his moping mood.

  “Yes. Only three more days.”

  “Oh,” mouthed Billy, sinking back into boredom. “I thought you meant we were close.”

  “Well, we are much closer than before,” chimed in Lady Myrredith.

  “I suppose,” said Billy with a sigh. “It’s just that I hate waiting. And nothin’ exciting has happened in . . . well in days.”

  At that very moment there came a loud thunk from the barrel beside Billy. It startled him, and he looked over to see an arrow stuck in the barrel exactly where his hand had been a moment before.

  “Yeow!” shouted Billy and ducked behind a large bag of grain.

  As he peered out from behind the bag, Billy saw several more arrows whiz past his view. He heard one of the guards cry out as an arrow struck him and took him to the ground. Someone outside shouted, “Brigands!” Another arrow came into the wagon past Sir Aonghas and buried itself in Billy’s grain bag. Billy jumped back, and Sir Aonghas snapped the reins of the horses.