With a Jester of Kindness

by K. C. Herbel

“It’s been a long time since anyone called me that,” said the earl with a grin. “You must do it more often. Tell me, my dear, would you do me the honor and accompany me to the wedding?”

  “Well,” began Lady Myrredith, “I don’t think Aonghas will be well enough to travel.”

  “Sir Aonghas can stay here and rest. My doctor will watch over him.”

  “I don’t know if I should leave him. When do you expect to leave?”

  “Day after tomorrow,” said the earl. “If we leave any later, we’ll miss the wedding.”

  “And if we leave sooner?” prompted Billy, his spirits climbing higher than they had been since he arrived.

  “Then, my dear boy,” said the earl, considering the point, “well then we’d just be bored to death.”

  “Oh, not me, milord!” replied Billy. “Not me!”

  The earl peered down at Billy with his bright grey eyes and chuckled. “No, I suppose not.” Then he patted Billy on the back. “He reminds me of another young lad, eh Myrredith?”

  Lady Myrredith looked at him, and a smile slowly spread across her face. “Yes, very much so,” she said thoughtfully. “Please allow me to think over your offer. I will give you my answer in the morning.”

  “Very well,” said the earl. “But for tonight, allow me to properly welcome you to Hillshire with a feast.”

  That night Waru-Dunom was alive with festivities. There was a feast in the great hall, and entertainment. A small troupe of thespians, on its way to the royal wedding, had stopped for the night. They gave a short performance to repay the earl’s hospitality.

  When the actors had finished, Lady Myrredith turned to Malcolm and said, “Perhaps Malcolm the Magnificent and his exceptionally talented assistant will dazzle us with their skills?”

  “Yes, of course, milady,” he replied.

  “Yes, of course, milady,” echoed his impish assistant.

  Malcolm and Billy stood in front of the head table and bowed. For the occasion, Malcolm had donned his gold and scarlet costume with the silver bells. He had also given Billy a small red cap, which tapered to a single point with a silver bell dangling on the end. When they arose from their bow, Malcolm put on his comedic three-cornered hat and winked at Billy. Then Billy put on his hat and winked back.

  “Tonight,” announced the senior juggler, “my assistant and I would like to juggle . . . six wine casks!”

  A murmur went through the room.

  Malcolm held up his hands for quiet. “But . . . neither one of us was thirsty enough to empty that many.”

  Laughter shook dust from the rafters.

  “So . . .” he continued, “we’re goin’ to use eight bottles instead!”

  The crowd cheered.

  Billy and Malcolm each gathered four empty bottles. They then went to the center of the hall, faced each other, and bowed.

  “One, two, three,” said Billy.

  “Follow me,” answered the master.

  Years after that night, those present would rave about the incredible feats of juggling they had witnessed in Hillshire. Some would say it was only by magic that the two jugglers kept up so many bottles. For many, it was the best they would ever see.

  When Malcolm and Billy concluded their act, Sir Hugh handed Billy his lute and whispered in his ear. The knight then strode across to Lady Myrredith and bowed. “Would Her Ladyship care to dance?” he asked.

  Lady Myrredith smiled broadly. “But what of your leg, Sir Hugh?”

  Sir Hugh waved her concerns aside and helped her to her feet. He escorted her to the center of the hall and gave Billy a nod. The young musician grinned and strummed the first chords of a pleasant, traditional dance song.

  “Do you remember . . . ?” started Lady Myrredith.

  “The first time we danced?” said Hugh, completing her thought.

  “Yes,” she said with a curtsey.

  “In Cyndyn Hall,” he responded with a bow, “to this song.”

  “Yes,” she said in a manner revealing her surprise.

  The remainder of the earl’s guests stood back, and the noble couple began the dance alone. It was a popular dance learned by all young people, from the lowliest farmer’s son to the noblest lord’s daughter. So by the second verse, the floor was full of dancers. On the third verse, Billy picked up the tempo. Faster and faster he played, until on the seventh verse the dancers were laughing and whirling around at dizzying speeds.

  Suddenly Sir Hugh fell, grasping his thigh, and Billy stopped playing. The remaining dancers collapsed to the floor as well.

  Breathless and giddy, the dancers sat on the large flat stones of the great hall’s floor. Occasionally a couple would break out in laughter, and others would follow. Even the earl, who had only watched his guests, was caught up in the laughter.

  “Very good, young man!” he said to Billy. “Well done!”

  “Thank you, milord,” replied Billy. He looked back to Hugh, who waved for him to continue. “Would you like to hear another, milord?”

  “Yes, yes, yes! And why not?” spouted the earl. “We haven’t had this kind of lively spirit here since my dear wife passed away.”

  Billy struck up a tune for the tired dancers as they rested. He sang in his usual clear, sweet voice, and soon it was the only sound to echo through the large chamber. Many of the revelers remained on the floor and quietly gathered around the young balladeer. Billy’s audience fell under the spell of his intoxicating voice.

  The final reverberations of the last note faded away, leaving the hall in utter silence. Billy looked around uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure what to think. Were they silent, because they hated his singing? Then, just when he was about to spring up and run away, the assembled guests broke into resounding applause and cheered for more.

  “Lady Myrredith! Lady Myrredith!” Billy cried over the hubbub.

  Myrredith emerged from the crowd, leading Sir Hugh. She came over to Billy and patted him on the shoulder.

  “What is it, William?” she asked.

  “What song would ya like to hear next?”

  “I’m sorry, William. I think I should tend to Sir Aonghas. He may have need of me.”

  “Oh,” said Billy dolefully.

  “Now, William, don’t stop on my behalf. You have a room full of eager listeners.”

  “May I play a song for ya, as ya leave then?” he said hopefully.

  A man shouted from the audience, “Let him sing you a song, milady.”

  “Sing us another ballad!” said a young lady.

  “How about another dance tune?” said the earl.

  The crowd suddenly began to buzz. Billy could hear some of them shouting requests over the others. Finally Lady Myrredith leaned down and whispered in his ear. Billy bowed to her and strummed the lute.

  The mob quieted. Lady Myrredith turned to face Hugh and held out her hand. Hugh took her hand on his arm and escorted her from the hall.

  “G’night, Lady Myrredith! G’night, Sir Hugh!” said Billy.

  “Good night, Lady Myrredith! Good night, Sir Hugh!” echoed his enthusiastic following.

  Billy laid into the next song with a vengeance. It was a lively dance number, which required the dancers to shout back responses to Billy’s lyrics. They responded to it with even more enthusiasm than the first dance tune, with all present joining in the dance.

  After that song, Billy sang another and another and another. Just when he was ready to take a break, someone would step up and request yet another tune. It was long into the wee hours before Billy was able to convince his newly acquired devotees that he had to stop and go to bed.

  As he turned to make his way upstairs, Billy heard a voice call after him. “William!”

  Billy turned and saw the earl following him up the corridor, a servant by his side.

  “William,” he repeated, “my young friend, how can I thank you? You have brought a great deal of joy into my home tonight, the likes of which I’ve not seen in years. I only wish my son were here to see it,
and to meet you! You must consider yourself welcome to visit me anytime you will.”

  “Uh-h-h, well . . .” stammered Billy. “Thank you, Your Lordship.”

  “Oh, poo!” spouted the old man. “I know what you mean to little Myrredith.” He quickly glanced at his servant. “That is—Lady Myrredith.”

  The elderly earl leaned in close to Billy, nudged him with a friendly elbow, and whispered, “You can call me ‘Finney’ too.”

  The servant, who had until that moment remained facing forward, flinched. The earl gave him a sideways glance then winked at Billy. Before the servant knew what was happening, the earl straightened and strutted down the hallway. The servant had to jump just to catch up with the old man. At odd intervals, the servant would turn back to gawk at Billy and then stumble as he tried to keep up with his master’s quick steps. Billy watched them go out of sight and then went up the stairs to his room.

  The next day was utter chaos in that castle of Hillshire. The night before saw a light drizzle, which steadily built until the rain was coming down in buckets. Those who were not leaving were in preparation to do so, and many were the times that those coming were in the way of those going and vice versa. Billy began to feel like a rat underfoot as he dodged his way from place to place. A thrown horseshoe, a small kitchen fire, a dropped sack of flour, and a broken axle added to the confusion.

  Billy was looking for refuge from the downpour when he finally ran into Sir Hugh, or rather, into two young ladies who were admiring Sir Hugh from the stables. Billy found their behavior intriguing. First one would whisper in the other’s ear, then they would point and giggle. A girl, younger than the others, came into the stables and joined them. Billy backed into the shadows to study the trio unobserved. Again they pointed, and he let his eyes stray to the blacksmith shed where they were focusing their attentions.

  The shed was vacant, except for Sir Hugh. The King’s Champion was stripped to the waist. His lean, muscular body was wet with sweat as he labored over the bent axle. Billy marked that his friend was the only knight he had seen actually bending his back to help. Billy watched for a moment as the noble warrior pitted his strength against that of the red-hot axle. Again and again he smote the glowing iron with heavy blows of his hammer. It sang out its agony with bell like cries. In the end, the metal would prove no match for the man. With each clank of the hammer, the axle became subject to his will.

  A woman in a dark cloak suddenly walked in between Billy and his view of the smithy. She stopped and stood outside the stables, with the rain beating off the broad hood of her cloak. Hugh continued to work on the axle, unaware of his swelling audience. A flash of red hair fluttered from the woman’s hood. A slender pale hand reached up to retrieve the troublesome lock, and the hood of the woman’s costume drew back. It was just enough for Billy to make out the beautiful and familiar profile of Lady Myrredith.

  The girls, just a few feet away, giggled, and she spun to stare at them. Billy could see that she had not been aware of their presence. Without a word, she pulled the cloak around her and crossed into the main keep.

  Billy decided that the shed where Hugh was working looked less crowded than the stable. He made a dash across the courtyard, but as he approached the blacksmith’s shed, a serving girl suddenly appeared in his path. One foot went left, the other right, as Billy attempted to avoid her. He soon learned that when the forces of nature conspire against you, it is useless to resist. The innocent girl and the clay pot she had been carrying went crashing to the cobblestones before she knew who, or even what, had hit her. Hugh looked up from the anvil to see Billy and the girl sprawled amongst potsherds, in a puddle. Billy caught his eye and shrugged as Hugh shook his head from side to side.

  When Billy had picked himself and the girl up, he entered the shed. He shook himself off like a dog and started to wring out his clothes.

  “Have ya ever seen anything like this?” asked Billy.

  “What, the rain?”

  “No. All this . . . confusion.”

  Hugh chuckled and put the axle back into the fire. Billy followed him back to the forge and noticed that Hugh’s wounds from the forest dragon were still red. He thought back to that fateful day, which had somehow bound them together forever.

  Billy absently reached out and touched one of the angry scars. Hugh jumped at the feel of his friend’s cold, wet hand.

  “What?” he exclaimed.

  Billy traced one of the jagged scars with his finger and looked solemnly into Hugh’s eyes.

  “What is it, Billy?”

  “Thank you.”

  Hugh looked down at the line Billy followed. “I told you before, my friend, it is you who is owed thanks. What I did for you, was the merest . . . gesture of kindness.”

  “But I would have died without your help!”

  “As would I have, without yours.”

  The two friends stared silently at each other for a moment, and then in unison they laughed. They didn’t understand why, but it felt good.

  After a while, Billy said, “Sir Aonghas seems to be doing well.”

  “Aye,” said Hugh. “If not for his stubborn insistence, Lady Myrredith wouldn’t be going on to the wedding.”

  “He was shouting so loud!” said Billy. “I thought he must be well enough to travel with us.”

  “Not yet. That was mostly a show for his wife.”

  “Aye,” said Billy thoughtfully.

  “Say,” began Hugh, “would you pump on that bellows for me?”

  “What . . . this?” asked Billy.

  “Aye.”

  Billy pumped the bellows and felt the heat of the forge on his face. He looked away from the fire to the courtyard where the exodus comedy continued. “Well, have ya ever seen anything like this?” he asked again.

  Hugh looked out at the anarchy and shrugged.

  “It’s just that . . .” Billy tried to explain, “they’ve been planning this trip for days, and well . . . look at ’em!”

  Hugh brought the hammer up on the anvil and rested his hand and chin on the handle. He surveyed the courtyard and shrugged again. “As the saying goes,” he started, “no matter how well you place the cornerstone, a castle in a swamp will not stand.”

  “Or in a river,” said Billy, holding his hand out into the torrential rain.

  Hugh and Billy laughed and then began to work on the axle again. By the time they had it fixed and back on the wagon, suppertime was upon them. They cleaned up and ate a hearty meal with Lady Myrredith and the earl before retiring to their well-deserved beds.

  Chapter XIV

  The Guests Are Welcomed

  The trip from Hillshire to Nyraval went very quickly for Billy, as he was in the company of many interesting people from the earl’s court. Malcolm the Magnificent was also enjoying his newfound friends, among them Sir Ewen and several other knights. Billy treasured listening to their stories and entertaining them with juggling and song. Of course he was also with Lady Myrredith and Sir Hugh, who had become something like a family to him. Aside from the death of the caravan guards, and having to leave Sir Aonghas at Waru-Dunom, the trip would have been just grand. If anything, now the trip seemed to be coming to an end too quickly. The only interest to revoke this feeling came from the knowledge that the king waited at the end of their journey.

  As they traveled closer to King William’s court, other caravans joined them. The number of wagons and people grew until their procession was like an army. Proudly they marched on, with banners flying and voices raised in joy. The rainbow of colors swirling before his eyes awed Billy. The glisten of silver and gold, the sheen and brilliant hues of silken clothes, and the sparkle of precious stones threatened to blind him.

  With less than a day’s travel between them and Nyraval, the host stopped to rest for the night and ready themselves for their arrival in the king’s court. While many would not actually be presented before their sovereign, they would be in his presence, and all wished to look their best. Armor and weapo
ns were polished, while wagons and horses were scrubbed. Clothing and footwear, both old and new, were cleaned and shined. There were even some who bathed.

  After he had collected firewood, fed the horses, and eaten dinner, Billy offered to help Sir Hugh polish his armor. The patient warrior gave his new squire a brief lecture on how a helmet was “definitely not a bean pot” then let Billy alone and returned to oiling his sword. At this time, several knights and their squires came around to greet the King’s Champion. They seemed very pleased to see him, and Billy noticed how all of them openly admired this noble servant of the king. Before he knew it, every knight in the caravan had flocked to Sir Hugh. Each one asked him to recall the tale of his battle with the forest dragon, and to show them the monster’s remains. To end the bombardment, Hugh gave in to their requests. Billy listened from atop the wagon as the humble knight told of his adventure. Every so often, Billy felt eyes upon him and turned to see the young squires and knights staring at him in genuine amazement. Under such close scrutiny, Billy became embarrassed and quickly returned to polishing Hugh’s helmet. Hugh soon tired of telling his tale. He picked up his lute and, with Billy’s help, incited the gathered fighting men into singing a patriotic hymn. As they sang the last verse, the men slowly dispersed and went back to their camps.

  Billy and Hugh continued to shine the armor. Billy feverishly polished until it sparkled in the dim firelight. He looked at his reflection in the shield and saw the stars twinkling above his head. He turned to show Sir Hugh and found him leaning against the wagon with a gauntlet on one hand and a polishing cloth on the other. Hugh absently rubbed the smooth bright metal and stared off into the distance.

  “What is it, Sir Hugh?” Billy asked.

  Sir Hugh did not respond.

  “Sir Hugh . . . Sir Hugh?” said Billy coming to Hugh’s side.

  He started to tug on Hugh’s elbow but stopped when he saw his silent friend’s troubled countenance. A complex web of concern and pain had fallen over his face. Billy followed his steady gaze to the outskirts of camp. There, under the canopy of stars, he saw a woman kneeling with her head bowed and her hands clasped together in front of her. She seemed very humble and small, alone in the dark. Without warning, she stood and instantly transformed into Lady Myrredith. He looked to his companion, whose eyes loyally followed the lady.