With a Jester of Kindness

by K. C. Herbel

  “No, I just prefer to take care of my mount personally, and with Splendore’s temperament I think it’s a necessity.”

  Billy laughed, thinking about how troublesome and headstrong the horse could be. He remembered the candy he had put into his pocket and offered a piece to Splendore, who graciously accepted it.

  “What did you need?” asked Sir Hugh, grooming his horse. “We could go riding tomorrow if you like.”

  “No,” started Billy. “I mean, I’d like that, I just—there’s—things really happen fast in the city.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Billy was about to name off all the things that had happened to him that day but then decided that it was too long a list. Instead, he settled for a question. “How’s Lady Myrredith?”

  “I don’t know,” said Hugh leaning over the gate. “She’s a strong woman.”

  “She’s a Cyndyn,” remarked Billy.

  “Aye,” said Hugh with a laugh. “She is that! But still . . .”

  “What?”

  “She’s a woman.”

  “A lady.”

  Hugh took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. His eyes seemed to study the sky. “A very kindhearted, very faithful lady,” he said at last.

  “He really loved her, you know?”

  “What?” asked the King’s Champion.

  “I mean,” said Billy, “he told me so, before . . .”

  “Aye,” said Hugh.

  The two friends became silent, Billy considering what he should do, or could do, for Lady Myrredith. He looked at his companion’s face. It was a map of lines portraying his concern. Billy went around the gate, into the stable, and together he and Hugh spread fresh straw on the floor.

  “Did ya know Sir Banarel?” asked Billy.

  Hugh looked at his companion. “Aye, I knew him . . . Lady Myrredith tells me he died at your father’s inn.”

  Billy nodded and then said, “He was killed by a horse in our stables.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “Was he a friend of yours, Sir Hugh?”

  “No.”

  “Wasn’t he one of the king’s knights?”

  “The king may have knighted him, but he earned his spurs doing God-knows-what for the magister.”

  “So ya didn’t trust him?”

  “Only a fool trusts the dog sent by a wolf.”

  Billy decided not to pursue the question any further and returned to spreading the hay. A minute later he broke his silence.

  “How long has the king been sick? I mean . . . he’s not that old!”

  Hugh’s eyebrows scrunched together. “A long time now,” he said. “He fell ill just after his queen died.”

  “Did you hear what the king asked me?” inquired Billy.

  “When?”

  “After you and Lady Myrredith left the feast.”

  “No,” said Hugh. “What?”

  “He and Princess Kathryn want me to stay.”

  Hugh dropped his armful of straw. “To stay?”

  “Yes! Well, at least till after the coronation.”

  “What of Lady Myrredith?” asked Hugh. “She will be leaving soon.”

  “I know,” said Billy frowning. “I want to go with her, but I want to stay too. Oh, what should I do?”

  “This is why you came to see me, isn’t it?” said Sir Hugh.

  “Aye.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Billy.”

  Hugh paused for a moment then asked, “You’ve always wanted this, haven’t you—to be here, in Orgulous, with the king?”

  “Aye! Who wouldn’t?” answered Billy.

  A brief smile passed over Hugh’s face as he nodded. His eyes focused beyond the walls of the Royal Champion’s stable.

  “Me too,” he said at last. “Since I can remember, I knew I had to be here. My mother tried to dissuade me, but I knew I had to be one of King William’s knights. Like my father.”

  “I wanted to be a knight too,” said Billy. “All my life I played at being a knight. I practiced swordplay. I practiced my reading and writing. I was a good boy. All, so that one day, if I came here to Castle Orgulous, before King William, I would be worthy. But that was just a boy’s dream. Time went by. My friends all grew up. I did not. Eventually I knew that I wasn’t meant to be a knight, just an innkeeper.”

  “But not now,” said Hugh.

  “No, not now,” said Billy thoughtfully. “Thanks to you and Lady Myrredith, I think I can be more.”

  “Can be, or will be?”

  “I don’t know,” said Billy flatly. “My heart wants more, but my head . . . I’m just simple folk—the son of an innkeeper.”

  “Not many people have the opportunity to follow their heart.”

  “Then you think I should accept?”

  “I didn’t say that,” said Hugh. “I was going to say that following your heart doesn’t always bring you happiness.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well,” started Hugh, “I guess it’s because things are rarely the way they should be.”

  “Are you happy, Sir Hugh?”

  “For a simple innkeeper’s son, you sure have a way of asking the most confoundable questions.”

  Sir Hugh said only a handful of words after that. He and Billy finished tending to Splendore Pomponnel and returned to the donjon. Lady Myrredith was out on the balcony when they arrived at her chambers. The room was dark, and the blue sky that had graced them all day was turning rusty behind her.

  “Milady?” said Hugh quietly.

  Lady Myrredith slowly turned to face them. In the fading evening light, Billy could see that her eyes were puffy and her cheeks wet with tears. She wore a simple black dress with no jewelry, and her beautiful red hair flowed gently over her shoulders, like water in a stony brook. Billy could not help thinking how stunning she looked, even in grief.

  “William, Hugh,” she said at last, “I was beginning to think you two were lost.”

  “Only in thought, milady,” answered Sir Hugh.

  “Good,” said Lady Myrredith, half to herself. “I received a message, William . . . from Kathryn. She said that you wanted to stay.”

  “I haven’t made up my mind,” answered Billy.

  “What’s to decide?” said the Lady of Cyndyn Hall, in her usual commanding voice. “This is where you should be, William! I’m sure your father wouldn’t disapprove.”

  Billy detected a sharp, fragile edge in her tone. “It’s not that,” he said, suddenly feeling homesick.

  “Then what?” demanded Lady Myrredith.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “It’s not me, is it?” asked Lady Myrredith. “Don’t worry about me, my dear, sweet William. I can take care of myself. You need to think of yourself for a change. This is your moment! Take hold of it, and don’t let go!”

  Lady Myrredith was right. She was the primary cause of Billy’s hesitation. However, it was not out of pity, but friendship—the truest friendship he had ever felt. From the day he left his father, Billy’s attachment to Lady Myrredith had grown. In his heart he knew that their parting was inevitable, but he had blocked it from his mind. Now the king’s offer forced him to face it. It forced him to choose between pursuing a lifelong dream and sticking by his best friend. It felt like reaching into a blazing fire to pull out a diamond. Sir Aonghas’s death and Lady Myrredith’s subsequent sorrow only made deciding all the more difficult. If she didn’t before, Lady Myrredith would need him now.

  Lady Myrredith walked to Billy and placed her hands on his shoulders. He looked up into her face and failed in an attempt to smile. Billy decided that this must be why Lady Myrredith had called him a terrible liar. It was always hard for him to hide the way he felt inside, especially with her.

  “Don’t worry, William,” said Lady Myrredith. “I shan’t be leaving for another day . . . and I shall still love you, no matter what you decide.”

  “I know,” Billy said, looking at the floor between his feet. />
  Lady Myrredith gently lifted his chin. “I do think you should stay,” she said earnestly. “You’ve come a long way, in a very short time, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go further. In truth, I believe that your journey may just be starting.”

  Billy reached around Lady Myrredith’s waist and hugged her. “I love you too, Lady Myrredith,” he said, fighting back his tears. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had!”

  Billy heard the door close and looked behind him to find that Sir Hugh had left. Billy started to go after him but was quickly reminded by Lady Myrredith’s touch that he had more important things to do than follow Hugh around. He gave his patron another squeeze and released her. He then moved to the nearest lamp and lit it. As the glow of the lamplight grew, it revealed Billy’s reward from the princess resting upon a chair. The marvelous inlaid patterns of finely polished wood around the sound hole seemed to smile at him.

  “Shall I play something for you, milady?” he said with a bow.

  “Yes, William,” she answered. “That would be wonderful.”

  Billy collected his lute and took a brief moment to tune it. When he looked up, Lady Myrredith was standing once again on the balcony. Her slim silhouette was surrounded by the red glow of the evening sky. Billy’s heart ached, but he was determined to lift his lady’s spirits. He reached into his growing repertoire and drew out a song that was light and gay but, more importantly, had made Lady Myrredith laugh. Oh, how he yearned to hear her light, birdlike laugh at that moment. It had become to him like honey to a sweet-toothed child. With that in mind, he began:

  Oh, come all ye maidens, and listen to me . . .

  Billy continued on, wishing for his sweet reward. The song ended, having failed to coax the response Billy had desired; indeed, Lady Myrredith seemed to have no response whatsoever. She simply stood, framed in the doorway, staring out beyond the horizon.

  Chapter XVII

  Decisions, Decisions

  Billy was roused from his sleep by a muffled thud. He sat up in bed and looked about in the darkness. The sun had not yet risen, and all was quiet. Even the birds, earliest of risers, were still. Billy concentrated until an echo of the sound that awoke him reverberated in his head. It was the sound of a door closing.

  Billy jumped out of bed and threw on his clothes. He cracked his door open to look into the central chamber. The door’s hinges groaned.

  “Blasted noisy doors,” whispered Billy.

  He peered through the narrow opening and saw no one stirring. He opened the door quickly, hoping to avoid any more noisy complaints, and tiptoed across the room to the main door. He scanned the dark room before placing his ear against the door to listen. It was quiet, but then he heard the scuff of far-off footsteps. Cautiously he opened the heavy wooden door and slipped out, being very careful not to make any sound as he brought it closed behind him.

  The hall was empty except for Billy. He listened again for the footfall he had heard from behind the door and was rewarded by a distant scrape. He turned and padded down the hallway.

  At several turns, Billy had to stop and listen for his prey. He didn’t know whom he was following, or even why he was following. He only knew that if someone was up this early creeping around Castle Orgulous there had to be a good reason, and he wanted to know what it was.

  Finally Billy came to an entryway that led into a spacious garden. He could make out a large still pool bordered by flowers, which were raised in the black cobweb shadows under several ranks of trees. He went to step through the portal but felt prickles on the back of his neck and stayed his foot.

  Movement down a path on the opposite end of the pond caught Billy’s attention. At that moment, he heard footsteps approaching from behind. There was nowhere to go except into the garden. Fear of being discovered forced him to descend the steps. Quietly he slipped down a path that led into the trees. He climbed a tree until he reached a place that was well hidden but afforded a good view of the egress. Within moments a cloaked man appeared in the archway and entered the garden. Billy held his breath as the man passed directly under him. When the man was well down the path, Billy dropped from the tree. The foreboding feeling was completely forgotten under an adrenal blanket.

  A secret meeting! Maybe I’ll just see who it is, and then sneak away.

  Billy crept along the path just out of sight of the mysterious cloaked man. As they moved around the pond, Billy noticed that walls of the donjon enclosed the entire garden. The only way in or out was the way he had come. Billy’s heart beat faster yet.

  At the end of the pond, the man halted abruptly. Billy quickly slipped behind a shrub and lay down on the ground.

  “My Lady!” said the man.

  Billy recognized Sir Hugh’s voice. What’s he sneaking around for? And with whom?

  “Hugh,” said a voice from beyond Billy’s sight.

  This one word allowed Billy to recognize Lady Myrredith’s voice.

  Hugh continued. “How are you?”

  “Well,” said Myrredith.

  Billy could not see his patron, but he could sense that she was not being entirely truthful.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Hugh.

  “I knew . . .” started Lady Myrredith, “I knew that you would be here. I was informed that you start each morning here—that is, whenever you are in Orgulous.”

  Billy inched closer until he could see her. She sat with her back to him, on a short marble bench facing the pond. Behind her stood a large square stone, partially entwined by a hardy thorn tree.

  “You are informed quite well,” said Hugh from behind her. “Do you know why?”

  “It’s a beautiful spot in the morning?” said Lady Myrredith rising from the bench.

  “Yes, it is,” said Hugh, “but there is another reason.”

  Lady Myrredith paced around Hugh and placed her hand on the large square stone. “They should do something about these thorns,” she said.

  “They have,” replied Hugh, “but they just kept coming back stronger than before.”

  “The queen,” said Myrredith. “Is she the reason you come here?”

  “Aye,” answered Hugh. “I made a vow to her.”

  “A vow?”

  “Aye.”

  “But she’s been dead for many years.”

  “And so has my father!”

  Lady Myrredith studied the King’s Champion. “What are you saying, Hugh? Is there some connection?”

  “Mother once told me that my father took a sacred oath to obey and protect the queen. I think he died keeping that oath. In fact, I think they died at the hands of the same killer.”

  “What?” exclaimed Lady Myrredith. “Killer? I don’t understand.”

  “Killer or killers.”

  “She was . . . murdered?”

  “Yes,” stated Hugh. “Not many know.”

  Billy could hardly believe what he was hearing. The queen had died before his memory began, and in the many years since, he had never heard of anyone who suspected foul play in the queen’s death. How could such a thing be kept a secret? His stomach churned.

  “I heard rumors,” said Lady Myrredith, “but I never . . . And what’s your part in it?”

  “I must find the man responsible . . . and kill him.”

  Billy’s heart stopped. He had never heard the King’s Champion speak of killing with such callousness.

  “Was she really murdered?” asked Lady Myrredith.

  “On this very spot,” said Hugh flatly. “In the middle of this great fortress! Under the nose of the royal guard!” Hugh stopped himself short of shouting. He took a deep breath and continued in a softer voice. “Mother said this was the queen’s favorite sanctuary.”

  “Do you have any idea who did it?” asked Lady Myrredith.

  “I have my suspicions,” said the King’s Champion, “but in this task I must be most certain. Too many years have made the trail cold. I pray to our Lord that He will someday lead me to the caitiff, but now I’m be
ginning to think I’ll never know.”

  “Perhaps the fiend has met with justice some other way,” offered Myrredith. “I don’t have to remind you that vengeance is the Lord’s.”

  “Perhaps,” agreed her companion, “but you didn’t come here to discuss the Scriptures.”

  “No.”

  “What then?”

  “Hugh,” started the Lady of Cyndyn Hall. “In the light of what you just told me, what I have to say seems so trivial, but I must tell you . . . It’s not easy for me, so please just listen.” She then invited him to sit.

  Hugh bowed his head to her and sat on the edge of the bench. He waited patiently while she paced in silence.

  Billy’s patience was almost at its end. Part of him wanted to leave, but he was afraid that in the quiet of the garden he would give himself away. He remembered the last time he had eavesdropped on his two best friends, and the burden that incident bore on his heart. Already the world seemed less wondrous than the day before, marred by the truth of the queen’s death. It frightened him.

  Finally, Myrredith took a deep breath and began. “Hugh,” she said softly, “we . . . I loved you. I’ve never known anything that could compare, but when I married Aonghas, I-I thought that you hadn’t come for me because you didn’t love me. Afterwards, I heard about the invasion, but it was too late. I couldn’t be his wife and allow myself to feel that way . . . about you. Please understand, I never wanted you to stay away! In fact, I . . . I often wished you hadn’t. You were the best friend I ever had.

  “When Aonghas died,” she continued, “I only wanted you to hold me, to feel your arms . . . Sweet Mother of Jesus, save me, that’s what I wanted.”

  Hugh rose and took a step towards her.

  Myrredith turned and placed her hands on the large square stone. “I know it’s wrong, Hugh, but I need you. You deserve far more, however, all I can offer now . . . is my friendship. You disappeared from my life before. I could not bear to lose you again.”

  Hugh knelt beside her and bowed his head. “Lady,” he said, “it may be wrong, but my friendship, as my heart, will always be yours.” Then he gingerly kissed her hand.

  The first song of morning abruptly broke the silence in the garden as birds greeted the rising sun. All three visitors looked heavenward. The surrounding walls of the donjon framed the brightening sky. A lone smokelike cloud lazily wafted across the colorful empyrean tapestry, promising a splendid day of sunshine.