Footsteps on the stairs outside, and then the door shook under the force of the Guardsman’s knock.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The guardsman hammered at the door again.
Varian stripped off his clothes. “I will stall them. You hide these things,” he indicated the items on the counterpane. Naked, Varian moved to answer the door. He looked back to ensure that Anton was complying, then messed up his hair.
Anton pulled a sheet from the bed, then hastily hid the fool’s clothing under the bedclothes.
The door was flung open mid-knock and the young Guardsman found himself facing a naked, yawning figure. Blushing, the youth looked behind him to his lieutenant, who stood at the top of the stair.
“Sir?”
Lieutenant Walcott turned and was surprised to see Varian standing there.
“Lieutenant Walcott.” Varian nodded in greeting.
“Excuse the interruption. I should like to speak to Mister Leyander, if I may?” Walcott said.
“Of course, sir. Please come in.”
Walcott followed Varian inside, and the young Guardsman took up a position in the open doorway.
“If you would just tell Mister Leyander that...”
Anton appeared in the bedroom doorway wrapped in a sheet, his hair unbound now. He passed Varian a robe. “What can we do for you at this hour of the morning?” Anton asked.
“This is somewhat awkward, sir. We are seeking a fool.”
“Am I to take that as an insult, lieutenant?” Anton asked.
“No, no,” Walcott said quickly. “We are searching for a man who has been pretending to be a fool.”
“There are many hereabouts who have no need for pretence,” Anton said.
“The one we seek has been Lord Eòghan’s fool,” Walcott explained. “And we have a man in the street below who claims to have seen this fool enter your building. We have searched every room but this one.”
Varian laughed. “We have not stepped out of this door since I got back, lieutenant.”
“And before that?” Walcott asked, looking at Anton.
“I was on the stage at back of the Siren’s Head with a hundred people watching me,” Anton said. “And I was not playing the fool.”
“I am sure we would have seen any fool who might have entered while we were here,” Varian said.
“But if you wish, you may look around for him, we have nothing to hide, do we?” Anton asked Varian.
“Not a thing,” Varian grinned, his robe hanging open at the front. He moved up behind Anton, placing a hand on his arm where blood was beginning to soak through the sheet.
“You have been here together?” Walcott asked, making no move to search the room.
“Of course,” Anton replied.
“If the lieutenant doesn’t believe us, perhaps he would like to check in the bedroom,” Varian said. “He will find that the sheets are still warm, and damp.”
The lieutenant looked towards the bedroom, unsure.
Anton cast a worried glance over his shoulder at Varian, who winked.
“That won’t be necessary. The man below must have been mistaken.”
“It would be easy to mistake one of the other residents for a fool,” Anton said.
“I could not possibly comment on that,” Walcott said. He frowned and ushered his guardsman out. “I am sorry that we disturbed you, gentlemen,” he said.
“Not at all. I do hope that you find your fool,” Anton said.
“Thank you, sir. And thank you for your assistance.”
Varian closed the door behind Walcott, then stood by the window and watched the Guardsmen leave. “A convincing performance, I think,” Varian said.
“Indeed. Thank you,” Anton said.
There was an awkward silence.
“Open a bottle of wine,” Anton said. “And I will explain all this, as best I can.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
It was a cool, dark chamber deep within the caves beneath the castle. Lord Eòghan’s body had been laid upon a stone dais in the centre and surrounded by a circle of candles burning on the floor. His wife, Julianne, knelt within the circle, holding the cold hand of her dead husband.
There was the sound of a shoe scuffing against stone behind her, and Julianne turned to find Captain Sheldrake standing in the shadows.
“I apologise for the intrusion, my lady. I did not know you were here. I came to pay my respects, but I can return later.”
“No. Stay and join me here.”
Their voices echoed eerily despite the fact that they kept them low.
Sheldrake stepped over the burning candles and knelt beside her. Her eyes were red from tears. The silence grew awkward.
“I loved him...” They began simultaneously.
They laughed then, embarrassed.
“After you, my lady.”
“Speak first, captain, I beg you.”
“I loved him as a brother,” Sheldrake said.
“I loved him more than any other in my life,” Julianne said.
“I must admit that I have loved another more than he.”
“How can you say that in his presence?” Julianne asked, shocked.
“I can say it in her presence,” Sheldrake said.
“I do not understand.”
“I love you above all others.”
“Why do you tell me this now?” she asked.
“Before now you were married to another, and confessing my love to you could do no good. But now you are free to look at another man, and I would that you looked upon me first.”
“Have a heart, my husband is not yet cold.”
“Heart I have enough, can you not hear it? It beats loud and rapid in your presence.”
“Captain, it is not appropriate,” she glanced towards Eòghan.
“He will make no complaints. I cannot keep these thoughts to myself any longer. If I cannot soon make you my own, I will die of longing. My heart aches terribly when I look upon your face.”
She turned away from him. “Then do not look and save yourself this pain.”
“But not to see you hurts me more,” he said.
“Now is not the time to speak of these things.”
“Tell me when, and I will hold mute until then, counting the hours in my silence.”
“I can give you no set time or place. I need time alone with my grief.”
“Let me share your grief, for I too feel it. Let mine be the shoulder that you lean upon. Let mine be the voice that comforts you. Others will see this closeness which arises from our shared grief, and when we reveal ourselves to be lovers, they will think it only natural.”
“Lovers are we, already? How quickly this affair develops.”
“And so it must, for I cannot wait long to have you in my arms, my lady. I need to feel the touch of your cheek against mine; to taste the sweetness of your lips. I would caress your skin as you lie under me and hear you whisper my name as we...”
Julianne stood, her face dark. “Have you no respect? Not for your late master or for my feelings? That you can seek me out as I mourn and pour these lascivious babblings into my ear? What gross and base creature are you?”
“Marry me, Julianne!”
She spat in his face. “I spit on you, poisonous toad, and wish that my saliva might carry the venom of my thoughts to strike you dead. You seek to turn this crypt into your bed chamber and undress me with your eyes, ravish me with your imaginings. I wish that your prick will putrefy in your hand tonight, you foul infection of a man.” She hitched up her skirts and stormed from the chamber.
Sheldrake turned to Eòghan, her spit dripping from his moustache. “I think she grows to love me already!”
Chapter Thirty-Five
There had been much discussion within the troupe about whether the final performance of Phantom from the Underworld should be postponed or even cancelled, as a m
ark of respect. The people of Sangreston had been shocked by the news of the murder in the castle, and there were fears that no one would turn out to see the play. Ultimately, Doran had decreed that the performance would take place as advertised, and in a statement before they began, he would dedicate it to Lord Eòghan. People would attend or they would not – this was not something they could influence. If they played to an empty courtyard, then so be it.
They did not play to an empty courtyard. The space behind the inn was filled beyond capacity, and the audience spilled out of the back gates into the street. Perhaps they all felt a need to escape from their real fears by experiencing some dramatic ones. Their enthusiasm was palpable, and at times so loud that the actors had to wait to be heard.
Afterward, as many folk as could be accommodated joined the actors in the Siren’s Head, and drunk toast after toast to the memory of Lord Eòghan.
In the alley at the side of the inn, Edison sighed as a steady stream of piss flowed. He looked at the lines of pee up the wall behind the trough and wondered if he could better the highest of them, but his flow dwindled before he could attempt it. He did a little knee-bend as he shook off the last drops and tucked himself back into his breeches. Then he turned and found Grimwade’s flaky scalp under his nose. He stepped back and looked down at the hunchback.
“Mr. Grimwade,” Edison said, nodding a greeting.
“Edric, my dear boy, I only just heard the news, and wanted to congratulate you!” Grimwade’s face was twisted into a smile of sorts.
“News?” Edison asked.
“No need to be coy, I overheard some of the players talking inside.”
“Talking about what?” Edison asked.
Seeing the incomprehension on Edison’s face, Grimwade’s smile faltered. “Perhaps I am in error. Perhaps it isn’t true.”
“Do not speak in riddles – tell me what you heard,” Edison said.
“It is a mistake, of course. A piece of idle gossip.” Grimwade backed away.
Edison seized the hunchback’s arm. “Tell me!”
“There is to be a marriage,” the hunchback blurted. “Captain Megan Jarrett is with child. When I heard that the father was ‘that most handsome of actors,’ why of course I thought they meant you. Forgive me.”
Edison’s face was pale. “It is not me,” he said through dry lips.
“It is just idle chatter,” Grimwade said, prying Edison’s fingers from his arm. “We should pay it no heed.”
“Tell me all that you heard,” Edison said.
“Edric, perhaps it would be better...”
“I will hear all of it.”
Grimwade’s shoulders sagged. “I do not like to be the bringer of this news, and it pains me to relate it – but you are my friend, and I owe you the truth.”
“Get on with it.”
“Earlier this evening, I passed three men I knew were actors from the play, though I do not know them by name. I heard one of them mention Megan Jarrett’s name, and then there was mention of a wedding. This stopped me in my tracks. Hearing that Meg was to be married, I thought that you must be the husband. I was both happy for you and annoyed – annoyed that you had allowed these fellows to know your joyous news before I, your close friend.
“I asked the three if I had heard correctly, and that is when I learned of Meg’s impending motherhood, though their phrasing was somewhat less tactful. They also said that the ceremony would take place within the month, to ensure the child wasn’t born a bastard.
“I came out here to pass on my best wishes, but now find myself the bearer of bad news. I am sorry, Edric, I truly am.”
Edison paced back and forth in front of the piss trough, gnawing at the skin beside his thumb nail.
“How can this be?” Edison asked. “Why would she not tell me?”
“Perhaps she did not wish to hurt you?”
“And learning of it from a third party will cause me less pain?”
“I am at a loss to explain her behaviour,” Grimwade said.
Edison stopped pacing. “I will speak to her immediately. I will hear from her own lips that I have been cast aside for some vagabond with mud on his boots and lust in his heart.”
Grimwade caught hold of Edison’s arm. “Have a care, my friend. Do not go to her in haste and in such a hot mood,” he advised. “Suppose this story is false? Simply malicious gossip? If so, it would not do for you to go accusing Meg and demanding that she either explain or refute it. Think how badly she would respond to such a confrontation, and on the possible harm to your relationship which might result.”
“But what if it is true?” Edison asked, his face flushed.
“Then you must give consideration to her condition,” Grimwade said, “and do nothing that could harm the unborn child.”
Edison’s mouth opened and closed, but he could form no words.
Grimwade patted his hand. “I know this may seem terrible now, and that your closest friends have betrayed you – but I want you to know that I am always here for you, should you need a shoulder to lean on.”
Edison pulled his hand away. “I thank you, old friend. I think I must be alone now to think on this. I feel as if the roof has fallen in on my life.”
“Come and see me later,” Grimwade said, “and we will have a drink. Just us boys.”
He watched the hunchback amble back down the alley, and then Edison turned around in a full circle, unable to decide which way to go.”
“Excuse me,” said an old man at his elbow, “have you done at the trough, ‘cos I’m bursting for a pee.”
The heat and smoke and noise generated by all the bodies inside the Siren’s Head became hard to bear, and conversation was impossible. After several rounds of drinks, Varian took hold of Anton’s arm and led him out through the back door into the cool evening air.
“What are we doing?” Anton asked, too loudly because his ears were ringing still.
“I thought we’d take a moment for a private celebration,” Varian said.
Anton looked around him. “In an empty theatre?”
“You would prefer an audience?” Varian asked, taking Anton’s hand and leading him up onto the stage.
“This feels wrong,” Anton said.
“We could don costumes, if you like? I could recite some lines of poetry? Or sing?” Varian said.
“What would you sing to me?”
“I know all the words to Maddy Minchin, the Shepherd and the Ewe...”
Anton placed a finger on Varian’s lips to silence him. “Some of the best scenes are played without costumes, or poetry, or music.”
“I am not sure I can remain silent throughout,” Varian said, between kisses.
“No one will hear,” Anton said.
“This is my first time on stage.”
“I will be gentle.”
“You didn’t tell me I had a rival.” A voice from the darkness. Megan Jarrett emerged from the shadows and climbed the steps onto the stage. There was a rum bottle in her hand, and it was almost empty. She swayed a little as she walked.
“Meg...” Anton said.
Varian looked from Anton to Meg and back again. “Rival?”
“I should run you through right now,” Meg said. She reached for the hilt of her sword, and discovered she wasn’t wearing her sword belt.
“Me?” Varian said. “What did I do?”
“Not you, buttercup. I was talking to our philandering friend here.” She pushed Varian aside and stood facing Anton. “Was I too much of a man for you?”
“Meg, I never meant to...”
“To make a fool of me? I did that well-enough myself. It seems everyone but me knew about you and this boy,” Meg said.
“I do not believe Master Edison knew,” Anton said.
“You have made a fool of him too!”
“Was that not the point? You used me to punish him for some hurt he caused you.”
“And how well I succeeded,” she said bitterly. “I had him fight pu
blicly, challenging a man who had no interest in me whatever. How everyone in there must be laughing at the two of us,” she said, waving the bottle towards the back door of the inn.
“It will soon be forgotten,” Anton said.
“Edric won’t forget. He will never forgive me.” There was regret in her voice.
“If he loves you, he will forgive you,” Anton said.
“I could not ask for his forgiveness.”
“Why, because you are afraid of appearing foolish?” Anton asked. “Isn’t that what started this?”
Meg sighed. “My ship will be sea-worthy again soon. I will just sail away and forget about him.”
“You won’t,” Anton said.
“You are right,” Meg said. “But what else can I do?”
“Tell him the truth,” Varian suggested.
Meg sighed again. “You men have it so much easier.”
“We do?” Anton asked.
“You do. One says, Do you want to go upstairs? And the other says Yes or No, and that’s it.”
“It’s not like that,” Anton said.
“Actually...” Varian said.
“I bought you drinks first, said flattering things...”
“That’s true.”
“I do not begrudge you your happiness,” Meg said. “I’m sorry I interrupted. I will let you get back to it...” She turned to face Varian, raised her hand and gently touched his cheek. “I can see why Anton wanted you,” she said. And then she kneed Varian in the groin. “Enjoy the rest of your evening,” she said.
Varian fell to his knees, clutching his balls. Tears spilled from his eyes. He keeled over sideways and rolled backwards and forwards on the stage, groaning.
“You bitch!” Anton said, blocking Meg’s exit.
“Get out of my way!”
Anton took a step closer to her. Meg switched the bottle to her left hand and clenched the right into a fist. She swung a punch at Anton’s head, but he stepped aside easily. Unsteady on her feet to begin with, Meg’s momentum kept her moving; her boots clattering on the boards as she tried to stay upright. She collapsed in an ungainly heap and the bottle rolled away.
Fortune's Fools Page 20
