by Alan Gordon
“Aha, so you knew he was murdered!” he pounced. “You admit it.”
“Well, it was the knife wound in his back that clued me in,” I said. “Surely you noticed it.”
He started, and glanced nervously back at the body, which was still laid out faceup. He signaled the guards, and they rolled Armand over. Sure enough, there was a single wound in the middle of his back. Calvet squatted down and examined it.
“Knife, possibly a dagger,” he pronounced. “A single, quick thrust. The killer knew what he was about.”
He turned back to us.
“You saw that while he was still in the water?” he asked. “The blood was washed away.”
“I saw it as they dragged him out,” I said.
“You have sharp eyes, Senhor Jester,” he said. “Did you know him?”
“I have seen him around,” I said. “He apparently liked taverns. I like them, too.”
Calvet looked upriver toward the Daurade Bridge. The arches between the supports were each filled by more waterwheels, except for the two outer ones.
“If he was killed by the riverbanks and fell in, he could have passed under the bridge without hitting any of the mills there,” he mused. “He could even have been dumped into one of the canals flowing into the Garonne. And there is no telling when it happened. Senhor Jordan, you can vouch for this fool’s veracity?”
“As I would my own,” said Jordan smoothly.
“Where do you live?” Calvet asked me.
“In Saint Cyprien, at the house of Honoret.”
“You mentioned the Count’s dinner thinking that would influence me to let you go,” said Calvet, softly so that only the two of us could hear him.
“Yes,” I said.
“It worked,” he said. “I expect both of you at the assizes in the morning. You are free to go.”
We bowed and left.
“Those damn Cathars will pay,” I heard him say as we walked away.
“I’m afraid they will,” said Jordan.
“He could be right about them,” I said.
“No,” he said, shaking his head.
“Why not?” I argued. “Armand was the one who started stirring up trouble against them. They have ample reason for wanting him to shut up.”
“But the Cathars are not violent,” he protested. “Not the ones I know.”
“Do you know them all?”
“No, of course not. But Armand was a loudmouthed, foulmouthed drunk. There’s plenty who might get mad enough to do him in on any given day.”
“Actually, I saw him get into a brawl with a bunch of tanners earlier today.”
“There you go,” said Jordan. “And that’s a profession prone to proficiency with knives. A quick thrust through untanned flesh would be nothing for one of them.”
“Point taken,” I said. “Reach out to your Cathar contacts. Find out if anyone knows anything.”
We came to the gate to the bridge.
“I appreciate your help with the baile,” I said.
“Self-interest,” he grinned. “I didn’t want to spend the night shackled to you. One wife is enough.”
“Right. See you at the assizes.”
“Such an annoying inconvenience,” he sighed.
“On the contrary, a tremendous boon,” I said.
“How do you figure that?”
“Why, consider what it will do for our notoriety,” I said. “All of Toulouse will know that there are new jesters in town, teaming up with you and Pelardit. The scandal will make us the most wanted entertainers for miles around. We couldn’t do better for ourselves if we led a parade down the Grande Rue.”
“When you put it that way—Huzzah! Our fortunes are made!” he cheered unenthusiastically.
We thumbed our noses at each other and parted ways. Vespers was sounding in the distance as I passed through the Daurade Gate, the last person to be waved through before it closed. I glanced toward the mills by the Ile de Tounis, and saw the guards lifting Armand’s body onto their wagon. The wheels, indifferent to the spectacle, kept turning.
* * *
“Your clothes are wet,” observed Helga when I climbed into our home.
“I aimed for the bridge, and missed,” I said, closing the trapdoor behind me.
“You don’t look any drunker than usual,” said Claudia, eyeing me critically.
I sat on a chair and stuck my legs straight out.
“Boots,” I said to Helga.
She stood at my right foot and tugged mightily until the boot abruptly came free, sending her into a series of fast backward somersaults until she fetched up against the wall in a headstand, which she held for a moment before toppling slowly back onto the floor.
“Not bad,” I said. “Try it again, only play up the effort more.”
She picked herself up, stood at my left foot and pointed at it sternly.
“You’re coming off,” she growled. She spat into her hands and wrapped her arms around my foot like she was hanging onto a ship’s mast in a tempest. She braced her feet and arched her body away. When the boot finally came off, the resulting tangle of arms, legs and boot spun across the floor in a blur. The resulting collision of Helga and wall had me fearing for the wall.
“I think that should be the maximum speed,” suggested Claudia. “Any faster, and she’ll end up crashing into the street below. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“I’ll go get my clothes off,” I said, heading into our room.
“I could help you,” offered Claudia slyly.
“Later for that,” I said.
Portia was asleep. I kissed her nose, and she smiled without waking. I stripped my clothes off and hung them on a line we had strung across the room for costumes. I found myself shivering, and I don’t think it was from the cold.
I grabbed my motley and put it on. Hell, if a jester couldn’t wear motley in his own home, then there was no point in being one, Advent be damned.
“Why, there’s a fool here,” exclaimed Claudia when I came in.
“A hungry one,” I said.
“Feed us the gossip of the day, and we will feed you in turn,” said Claudia.
“There’s been another murder,” I said.
“You have my attention already,” she said. “Who?”
“Armand,” I said, and I told her what had passed.
“Sounds like he had served his purpose, and was no longer of use,” she said.
“Harsh treatment for mere uselessness,” I said. “Who among us shall escape?”
“He gave his testimony and put the hounds of the law on the wrong scent,” she said. “If he lived, sooner or later he would have ended up bragging about how he pulled the wool over the baile’s eyes.”
“That makes Bonet the likeliest suspect,” I said. “With Brother Donatus as my second choice.”
“There is one more obvious explanation,” she said. “The one you are refusing to talk about.”
“Why bother?” I said. “I knew you would bring it up.”
“Someone saw you talking to him, and put two and two together,” she said. “They killed him to keep you from finding out what he knew.”
“But for all they know, he had already told me,” I said.
“In which case, they may be coming after you next,” she said.
“So I should constantly be on the lookout for someone trying to kill me”
“There’s a thought,” she said, placing a bowl of stew in front of me.
“As opposed to my normal behavior, which consists of constantly being on the lookout for someone trying to kill me,” I said.
“Which may be me if you persist in being contrary,” she said. “Just be a little more wary than normal.”
“I will not be contrary, I’ll persist in being wary, for my wife is very scary,” I sang.
“Not scary, Theo,” she snapped. “Scared. There are two men dead, and I’d rather you not be the third. Or the fourth, or any number in single, double or triple digits.”
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“Only if you grow old along with me,” I said, taking her hand.
“Some days, I already have,” she said.
“Speaking of widows, how was Béatrix today?” I asked, clumsily changing topics.
“She managed very well,” said Claudia. “The usual swarm of locusts came for the funeral feast. The Borsella brothers stayed by her throughout. When the crowd left, Bonet mentioned something about going over the books with her tomorrow, then left. Vitalis stayed on to pray with her.”
“Bonet didn’t leave right away,” said Helga.
“He didn’t?” I asked as Claudia looked at her in surprise.
“I was watching Evrard while I was serving the guests,” said Helga. “When Bonet left Béatrix, Evrard slipped out a moment after. I followed him. Bonet was standing by Milon’s office. Evrard unlocked it, and they went inside together and closed the door after.”
“What did you hear?”
“As a faithful servant of the household, it would have been wrong for me to listen at keyholes,” she said haughtily.
“But you’re not a faithful servant of the household,” I reminded her. “You’re an apprentice fool.”
“Which is why I listened at the keyhole,” she said. “Bonet said, ‘Any luck?’ and Evrard said, ‘None. I’ve turned the place upside down. It isn’t here, it isn’t anywhere in the house.’”
“They’re working together,” said Claudia. “And they’re still looking for the book.”
“And they haven’t found it yet,” I said. “Unless one of them is lying to the other. Good work, girl.”
“I wasn’t finished,” she said indignantly.
“There’s more?”
“Bonet said, ‘We have to find it before he does. Are you sure no one came in that night?’ And Evrard said, ‘I can’t be certain. You know my situation.’ And Bonet said, ‘A fine time to be visiting your little maid.’ And Evrard said, ‘How was I to know your brother was going to get himself killed? For all we know, he may have had it on him then, and we’re just pissing in the dark.’ What do men mean when they say that?”
“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” I said. “Was there anything else?”
“Evrard asked him, ‘What about the ledgers? Any luck there?’ And Bonet said, ‘I report to one man, and you’re not him. You just worry about your end of it.’ And Evrard was silent after that. Then I heard them coming to the door, and I ran back to my duties. The end.”
She bowed.
“Bonet is another man’s lackey,” marveled Claudia. “He’s a consul, and a wealthy man, yet beholden to someone else.”
“But to whom?” I asked. “Who is more powerful than him?”
“The Count?” guessed Helga.
“Not from what I hear,” I said. “The consuls are more powerful than the Count in Toulouse, even though he reaps the benefits.”
“That may be true of the consulate as a whole,” said Claudia. “But not of any single member.”
“So, I keep looking into Bonet’s business,” I said. “Frustrating. With every day, we stray further from our mission to unseat the Bishop.”
“You could always just kill him and blame the Cathars,” said Claudia. “It seems to be all the rage in Toulouse these days.”
“Where is your sense of style, woman?” I asked. “Much too crude. Besides, I like the Cathars.”
“Better not brag about that,” she said.
* * *
I had a much better seat at the inquest this time. Odd, with all of the violent deaths I have seen, or for that matter inflicted, that I would be called to testify about one that I had nothing to do with. At least, I hoped I had nothing to do with. I looked at Armand, lying in the open coffin in the center of the room, and hoped he would have the decency to just lie there without saying anything troublesome.
Smaller crowd for this inquest, which was a bit of a disappointment. Portia had been fussy, so Claudia stayed behind to pay her some added attention. I had sent Helga, to her chagrin, back to the Borsella house. Jordan, of course, was seated next to me, and Pelardit had managed to find a seat where he could face us. He amused himself by catching our eyes with bizarre expressions, snapping back to normality if anyone else glanced in his direction. It was all we could do not to respond in kind, curse him.
The halberds thumped, and Calvet came in.
“You,” he said, pointing at me. “Take the oath.”
I did.
“State your name.”
“I am Tan Pierre, a new jester in town,” I said. “Head of the Fool Family, recently come to Toulouse to entertain everyone from the Count on down for the joyous Christmas season. Reasonable rates, no gathering too small.”
“Long name,” he said, and there were a few chuckles from the assemblage.
Damn, he got a laugh at my expense.
“You found the deceased,” he said.
“Yes, Senhor. I was walking with my brother fool, Jordan, along the riverbank, planning the festivities for our performance before the Count at the dinner he’s throwing on Monday. Jordan pointed out that something was jammed into one of the waterwheels. On closer look, I saw a man there, and jumped into the mill-run to try and save him. Alas, my efforts, though valiant, were to no avail.”
“You observed the stab wound in his back.”
“I did, Senhor, when he was dragged out of the river.”
“Had you seen him at any other time?”
“Well, in here, of course, when he testified. And I’ve seen him in taverns around town a couple of times.”
“What about yesterday?”
“I saw him earlier at a tavern up near the Bazacle Gate,” I said. “There was some kind of fight, but I was not a part of it.”
“Who was?”
“I don’t know their names, Senhor, but there were many people fighting. I was more intent on keeping my cup from spilling than from figuring out who was doing what to whom.”
“Is that all you know about this?”
“It is, Senhor, and I swear to it,” I said.
Yes, it was perjury. Yes, one more black mark in the divine ledger that will add up to damnation when my time comes. There was no rectifying that balance in the long run, so no point in fretting over it now.
“You may stand down,” said Calvet.
“I’m not sure how to do that,” I said. “May I sit down instead?”
“Just move out of my way,” he said, and then he pointed at Jordan. “You.”
Jordan testified as I had. The men who helped us came next, then the barkeep from the Tanners’ Pit, who managed to see all of his regular customers in the brawl, yet recognize none.
“It was confusing,” he protested.
The baile sighed.
No one brought up my brief conversation with the deceased outside the tavern. That was lucky.
When all the testimony had been taken, Calvet looked around the room, his visage stern.
“This man lost his life because he had the courage to testify against the Cathar scourge,” he said. “I suspect that he was killed by the same man who killed Milon Borsella, but there may be a larger Cathar conspiracy at hand. I call upon every true Christian to come forward if he knows aught of such things.”
The room was either filled with false Christianity or true ignorance. In any case, no one came forward.
“Death by person or persons unknown,” pronounced the baile. “Get out of here. All of you.”
Pelardit joined us as we walked out of the château and back through the Porte Narbonnaise. As we came into the city, I noticed a small, dark object flying toward the general vicinity of my head. I reached up and caught it, then dropped it like a hot chestnut, which was exactly what it was.
“Where did he go?” I demanded.
“He scurried around the corner,” said Jordan. “Like a rat in a cassock.”
“Father Mascaron is stealing some of my moves,” I said, rubbing my palm where the chestnut had stung it. “I had better
go see what he wants.”
He was in his office, looking expectantly at the door. I held up the chestnut, which had cooled down.
“I should not have enjoyed that, but I did,” he said, smirking like a naughty child. “No doubt it will cause consternation when I bring it up in confession.”
“I suppose that makes us even,” I said. “I didn’t see you at the inquest.”
“I didn’t want to give that wastrel any more importance in death than he had in life,” he said. “I take it that your testimony omitted our little arrangement?”
“No one asked me about it, so I didn’t say anything about it,” I said.
“And if they did ask?”
“We’ll never know,” I said. “What do you think about his death?”
“I think that it’s worth looking into,” he said. “Don’t you?”
“It could be coincidental,” I said.
“Neither of us is fool enough to believe that,” he said, his earlier humor vanishing like a dove under a conjurer’s silk. “Find out who he was working for, and you will find who killed Borsella and stole his book.”
“As far as my time permits,” I said. “Remember, my services will be subject to demands of the season after tomorrow.”
“I shall have to find a way of extending Advent,” he said.
“I will trade you for bringing back the Feast of Fools,” I replied. “What about Saint Sernin?”
“Not worth pursuing,” he said, shaking his head. “Armand is your best lead.”
“Then I shall follow the dead man,” I said. “I doubt that he will prove a fast quarry.”
I started to leave.
“One more thing,” he called.
“Yes?”
“I hope that we may count on seeing you at Mass tomorrow,” he said piously.
“I understand the Count will be here,” I said. “If it’s good enough for him, I suppose it’s good enough for a fool.”
When I came out, I saw Claudia playing with Portia in front of the cathedral. I swooped in and snatched my daughter up, throwing her into the air and catching her as she shrieked in terrified delight.
“Hello, my loves,” I said as I nuzzled her, then kissed my wife. “How did you know to find me here?”