The Lark's Lament: A Fools' Guild Mystery

by Alan Gordon

  “Let him,” I said wearily.

  She looked at the man she had shot. “Theo?” she said.

  I picked up Julien’s sword and went over to the crossbowman. He stared unblinking up at the night sky. I kicked the crossbow away and felt his neck for a pulse.

  “He’s dead,” I said.

  “But I shot him in the thigh!” she shouted. “I did what I was told! He wasn’t supposed to die!”

  “He bled out,” I said. “It happens. It was a good shot, Helga.”

  “Oh, God, I’ve killed someone,” she moaned.

  “Apprentice!” I said sharply.

  She looked up at me as if I had slapped her.

  “Apprentice,” I said again.

  “Yes, Master,” she said, standing straight and wiping her nose with her sleeve.

  “You heard what they intended to do with us,” I said.

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Specifically, what they intended to do with you,” I continued.

  “Yes, Master.”

  “No doubt they would have added Portia to the tally of the dead,” I said. “Do you have any doubts that you acted to save yourself from a horrible fate? Any doubts that you saved the rest of us by doing so?”

  She took a deep breath. “No, Master,” she said. “No doubts.”

  “What would you have done if they had killed Claudia and me?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “What would you have done if they had killed us, Apprentice?”

  She looked down at the man she had killed. “I would have avenged you, or died trying,” she said.

  “Wrong, Apprentice,” I said.

  “Completely wrong,” said Claudia, coming over to hold her tight.

  “If we had been lost, it would have been your responsibility to save Portia,” I said. “We have to know that you would have done that.”

  “How?” asked Helga, burying her head in Claudia’s arms.

  “By running,” said Claudia simply. “You have to run into the woods as fast and as far as you can, abandon all thoughts of vengeance, even of burying our bodies, but save our daughter.”

  “And then what?” she asked, her voice muffled.

  “Then seek safety wherever you could find it,” I said. “Find a sympathetic family somewhere and wait until the way is clear, then get back to Grelho or Pantalan for help. Then become the great jester that we have no doubt that you will be.”

  “And raise our daughter as your sister,” said Claudia. “Will you do all that?”

  “I hope I never have to,” said Helga.

  “So do we, Apprentice,” I said. “But if you do…”

  “Then I will,” she said. “I promise.”

  I pulled her close, hugged her hard, and kissed the top of her head. “You did brilliantly, Helga,” I said. “Father Gerald would be proud of you.”

  And so would your mother, I thought. May her soul rest in Heaven.

  I started kicking dirt on the fire. “Get the tent packed,” I told them. “We have to leave.”

  “Do you think that last man will go for help?” asked Claudia.

  “I doubt it,” I said. “But there’s no point in hanging around here.”

  Helga and Claudia struck the tent quickly and tossed it onto the wain. I finished smothering the fire and went through the pockets of the dead men, taking what money and documents I could find. I left them their weapons. Claudia came over and pulled the two arrows from their targets.

  “Don’t forget your ax,” she said.

  I looked down at Julien, who looked back at me from both sides of the ax-head.

  “I wonder if he was any good with that sword,” I said.

  “I am just as happy we didn’t have to find out,” said Claudia.

  I had to yank at the ax hard to get it out. I took some water and rinsed the blood off it.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to leave that out of our juggling,” said Claudia as I stowed it with our gear.

  “I’ll buy a new one,” I said.

  We harnessed Zeus and got on the road. There was a decent amount of moonlight to see by. We heard Helga’s teeth chattering in back.

  “Come up with us, dear,” said Claudia. “Bring a blanket.”

  She clambered over the gear to join us, and we huddled together for warmth as we left our battleground. “Five of them against three of us,” said Helga, still shivering. “What were they thinking?”

  * * *

  My wife was quiet the next morning, sitting on the ground nursing Portia. Helga had finally succumbed to exhaustion and was sprawled across the bundles in the wain, fast asleep.

  I squatted by my family. “The baby slept through everything,” I said.

  “Lucky for her,” said Claudia.

  “Lucky for us,” I said. “They might have noticed you sneaking out of the back of the tent if she was crying.”

  “I still can’t believe it was Julien,” she said.

  “Just because a man kisses your hand,” I said.

  “He paid the price for that, didn’t he?” she replied. “Infidelity comes dear in these parts. One thing puzzles me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How did he know the song?” she asked.

  “He must have encountered Lady Mathilde and Philippe when they came to Marseille,” I said. “He must have learned something from them, enough to set him on this rampage.”

  “Maybe she went to Marseille looking for Folquet,” she said. “That could have brought her to him. But why wouldn’t he kill her there?”

  “We’ll find out when we get there,” I said. “The last piece of the story.”

  * * *

  We came to Marseille four days later, and soon entered that now familiar courtyard. We stood on the wain and sang.

  Lord of emptiness, King without subjects,

  Ruler with no rules.

  All hail Pantalan, a jester’s jester,

  Emperor of Fools!

  Pantalan opened his shutters and looked at us in disbelief. “Oh, no,” he said. “Not again.”

  THIRTEEN

  Vida e pretz qu’om vol de folla gen

  on plus aut son cazon leugeiramen.

  [The life and glory that one seeks from fools

  easily collapses when it is at its peak.]

  —FOLQUET DE MARSEILLE, “HUEIMAIS NO·Y CONOSC RAZO” [TRANS. N. M. SCHULMAN]

  “Julien Guiraud,” said Pantalan in amazement when Theo finished a brief rendition of our adventures since leaving in Marseille. “I never would have guessed.”

  “Didn’t seem the killing type?” I asked, shifting Portia to my other breast and wincing as she clamped on extra hard.

  “Oh, he’s certainly the killing type,” said Pantalan. “He’s been a successful merchant for years, so by definition ruthless. I just never thought he would carry such a strong hatred for Folquet all this time. I must say, I have always wondered why he never married. Your guess at the attachment to his sister must have been near the mark.”

  “Right in the center of it, I’d say,” said Theo smugly.

  Oh, the man can be irritating when he is right. Especially when it’s at the expense of my being wrong.

  “And you, little chick!” exclaimed Pantalan, ruffling Helga’s hair affectionately. “Your first burglary, your first taste of combat. You have already done more at your tender age than some fools do in a lifetime.”

  “If it’s always going to be like this, I might take up farming instead,” said Helga.

  “Nonsense,” scoffed Pantalan. “You are to the motley born, my girl. You can be nothing else but a jester, doomed like the rest of us. Why, if you became a farmer, then you would find some dangerously adventurous farming mischief. I have no idea what that might be, but there would be havoc on the fields in no time. So, friends, what is your next step? You found the man who killed Folquet’s drunken colleague, and exacted the appropriate penalty for that little crime. That fulfills the abbot’s mandate, I should th
ink.”

  “I would say so,” agreed Theo. “I still want to get the end of the story. That means finding Lady Mathilde and her son and learning what happened after they were banished from Montpellier. And I want to warn them, just in case the mercenary who got away still has their deaths on his agenda.”

  “You should lie low and let me make the inquiries,” said Pantalan. “Word hasn’t reached Marseille about Julien’s death yet, but if it does, the authorities might not look kindly upon your explanation.”

  “They rarely do,” said Theo. “We will heed your advice and stay here. I could use a week’s worth of sleep, to be honest.”

  “Then I will go look for a young man who came to Marseille this past summer, possibly in the company of a mad wraith of a woman,” said Pantalan. “That shouldn’t be too much of a quest. I shall return by nightfall.”

  He closed the door behind him. We heard the shouts of the children greeting him in the courtyard, then their laughter at some antic of his. Then it faded away.

  “How shall we pass the time?” I asked, turning to my husband.

  He was stretched out, fast asleep. I threw a blanket over him and kissed his brow.

  “Free time for us,” chirped Helga.

  “Not so fast, Apprentice,” I said. “We have been neglecting your studies.”

  “I’ve been busy,” she said defensively.

  “So have I,” I said. “Let’s start with your Arabic lessons.”

  * * *

  I took a chance later, washing off my whiteface and changing into civilian garb. I left Portia and Helga to watch over my husband, and went to find dinner. There were some smaller markets in the Ville-Haute, so I replenished our supplies and bought extra for our host. On an impulse, I purchased some dried flowers that had a pleasant scent.

  When I returned, Portia was crawling happily over her father, who was still lying down but awake enough to grab her at odd moments and dangle her upside down over his head while she shrieked in delight. Helga juggled clubs off in a corner.

  This must be what domestic bliss is like for a jester, I thought. I suddenly found myself looking forward to the end of our journey, when we would settle down in Toulouse in our own rooms, and stay long enough to raise our child. Maybe I would have another—Theo was a good father, and you don’t waste those.

  I bustled about, preparing dinner. Pantalan returned just as the sun was beginning to set.

  “I have news, my friends,” he said. “The young—my, it smells good in here. Did Theo bathe?”

  “We threw out all of your things,” I said. “The air is much better as a result.”

  “I’ve needed a woman’s touch in this household,” he said. “You’re hired. Anyway, I have found your Philippe, and just in time.”

  “He’s in danger?” asked Theo.

  “No, or at least, not immediately,” said Pantalan. “He leaves for the Holy Land in two days.”

  “Business or Crusade?” I asked.

  “He’s taken the Cross, although I don’t know that there is any battle currently going on there. They can always make him guard a wall somewhere.”

  “Do you know where he’s staying?” asked Theo.

  “Of course, but there’s no point in going tonight,” said Pantalan. “They say that he has been drinking his way through every tavern on the waterfront for the past several days, sopping up all the local wine and women he can before he embarks on his sacred journey. We will speak with him in the morning, or whenever he wakes up.”

  “Is it safe for us to go as jesters?” I asked.

  “It is,” said Pantalan. “I paid a visit to the Guiraud store. I thought a certain someone might like this.”

  He tossed a small bag to Helga, who opened it and dived in.

  “Ank ou,” she said in a garbled voice, her mouth full of rock candy.

  “Demosthenes, she is not,” he observed. “Anyhow, nobody there was saying anything about his death or disappearance. I heard someone asking for him, in fact, and the clerk replied that he was away on business and not expected for some weeks.”

  “That’s a relief,” I said.

  “The bodies should have been discovered by now,” argued Theo. “I didn’t find any identifying documents when I searched them, but that doesn’t mean someone might not recognize them. There is also the problem of the mercenary who escaped.”

  “But he didn’t come here,” said Pantalan. “There would be an uproar if the news had gotten out. I suspect in any case that the investigation will be carried out from the Montpellier end when they are discovered. It’s in their jurisdiction. That gives you enough time to meet with the son of the Hawk and then get out of town.”

  I shivered suddenly. We had been chasing so many stories from the past that the idea of actually meeting someone from them was as unreal as encountering a monster out of Homer or a knight from the Round Table. What would this boy be like?

  In the morning, we did our stretches in the courtyard. Pantalan joined us, to our surprise and the glee of the neighborhood children.

  “I have been getting careless about my morning routine,” he said, almost touching his toes. “I have been coasting along on sheer brilliance alone for years, but I have let the other skills lapse. Let’s see if I still can—ah, good.”

  He kicked up into a handstand and walked several paces in that position before toppling over. The children clapped.

  “I am not ready to marry you yet,” called Helga.

  “Then I shall keep exercising,” replied Pantalan, rolling to his feet.

  “Let’s go see Philippe first,” said Theo.

  * * *

  There were only a couple of ships in the harbor. It was late in the year for traveling, and the Ville-Basse was at half-bustle at best. Pantalan led us to an inn called the Pelican and had a whispered conversation with the barmaid. She pointed to a young man who was leaning on the plank tables, picking dispiritedly at a plate of boiled eggs. He was the right age, and had a handsome face with almost delicate features. His hair was black and tied into a greasy braid in back. He wore a sword in a shabby leather scabbard at his side, and a plain wooden cross dangling from a chain around his neck.

  “Sieur Philippe?” said Theo.

  The man looked up us and blinked. “No singing, for Christ’s sake,” he said. “I have a headache larger than my head.”

  “We won’t sing,” said Theo sympathetically. “But are you Philippe Landrieux?”

  “I am,” he said. “Who are you? I can see that you are jesters.”

  “My name is Tan Pierre,” said Theo. “This is my wife, Domna Gile, and our daughters. You recognize Sieur Pantalan, no doubt.”

  “I have seen him perform, of course,” said Philippe, nodding politely at the introductions. “What business do you have with me, Sieur Fool?”

  “My family and I have lately returned from Montpellier,” said Theo.

  “I know the town well,” said Philippe. “Knew it, anyhow. You must know Grelho.”

  “We do. We were visiting him. We heard about your—displacement.”

  “A pretty word,” said Philippe bitterly. “Were you sent to taunt me in my misery?”

  “We came because we know your story,” said Theo.

  “No one knows my story,” said Philippe.

  “We know about your mother,” said Theo.

  Philippe looked at him steadily. “My mother is dead,” he said.

  “Please, Sieur,” I said. “We have no wish to cause you scandal. Our path intersected yours quite by accident, and we cannot tell you everything about it or why it is important. We do know that your mother survived her foul imprisonment. We also know that several people have died since her release because someone sought vengeance upon her for an old sin. We came to warn both of you.”

  “I don’t know how you learned that,” he said. “But she is beyond your help and anyone’s vengeance but God’s.”

  “She has died, then?” asked Theo.

  “Oc, she h
as,” replied Philippe.

  “We are sorry for your loss,” I said gently. “We know how she suffered in life. At least she was reunited with you at the end, if only for a short time. That must have been a great ease to her.”

  “You are kind to say so,” he said.

  “I hope that her death was a peaceful one,” I continued.

  “Peaceful,” he spat. “She deserved a soft bed, angelic music playing, and me by her side holding her hand. No, Domna, she was killed. A stupid tawdry accident, and it was my fault.”

  “How so, Sieur?” I asked.

  “I had so little when we were exiled,” he said. “I wanted to find a place where she would be taken care of, where there would be no walls, where she could feel the sun and the fresh air. A place where she could spend her remaining life peacefully while I went to the Holy Land to atone for my sins and earn my fortune so that I could provide for her in her old age. A place where she would not be persecuted by men.”

  “Oh, God!” I said as a sudden sickening realization hit me. “Gémenos. You put her in Gémenos, didn’t you?”

  “I thought she would be safe there.”

  “A stampede,” I whispered. “She was crushed to death by a herd of cattle, wasn’t she?”

  He leapt back from the table in horror. “What witchcraft is this?” he cried. “How did you know?”

  “We were there recently,” explained Theo hastily. “My wife heard the story, but we did not know it was your mother. Again, our condolences, Sieur. May Our Savior watch over your pilgrimage and keep you safe.”

  He grabbed my arm and dragged me out of there, the others following in confusion. My last sight of Philippe was of him holding up his cross in front of himself to ward me off.

  “He put her in a death trap,” I cried as they escorted me back. “He put her with Folc’s wife, this poor mad woman. And Hélène found out who she was. Lady Mathilde was murdered, don’t you see? Hélène killed her, and got her brother to leave that message for Folc. This wasn’t about his vengeance. It was about hers. All along it was her.”

  “She must have panicked when she heard we were investigating it,” said Theo. “She sent us to her brother so that he would know to go after us if we continued on to Montpellier.”