Fortune's Fools

by Paul Tomlinson

  “Fool?” Julianne asked again, less sure.

  “Some have called me by that name.” Anton stepped into the room, closing the door. He walked towards Julianne, and in the light from the fire she could make out his features.

  “I know your face,” Julianne said.

  “Anton Leyander, my lady” He bowed.

  “The actor?”

  “The same.”

  “I saw the final performance of Phantom from the Underworld,” she said. “My husband... Lord Eòghan had no desire to see it, and so I attended disguised as a commoner. You were very good.”

  Anton bowed his head. “My lady is too kind.”

  “I have been told that our fool was an impostor,” she said. “That my husband was killed by this fake-fool. I had no idea the role had been played by such an accomplished player.”

  “Any man may play a fool,” Anton said.

  Lady Julianne was watching him closely, knowing he was the man accused of murdering her husband. But she did not seem afraid of him, and made no attempt to call for help. If Anton could read anything in her expression, he would have to say that it was resignation.

  “Then you are guilty?” she asked.

  “Only of being the fool.”

  “Why then do you risk your liberty by appearing to me here in your true form? I could call for Captain Sheldrake, and you would quickly find yourself in the Guard House.”

  “Indeed. And they would soon have a noose about my neck and have me dancing before the gallows audience. But then the true murderer of your husband would go free.”

  Julianne sighed and stared out into the night. All sign of vitality seemed gone from her: she had abandoned herself to whatever future fate might choose for her.

  “For whom do you weep, my lady?”

  “I weep for the death of my husband.”

  “Did you love him?”

  She turned to face him, more surprised by his question than angry at his impertinence. “I did not love him at first. The marriage was arranged by our families, as such things are. He was some years my senior, but he was very shy in the beginning. It made him less threatening. He was handsome too. And generous. I could not resent him for long, even though we had been forced together against my wishes. I grew to care for him.

  “He wanted us to have time with each other, to grow to love one another if we could, before he fathered children. For two years, we resisted the pressure of our families and the jibes of those who would say behind their hands that one or both of us was unable to fill the required role.

  “We did come to love each other. And I have recently begun to plan for the next chapter of my life – to carry a child. To become a mother.” More tears. “If we had not been so selfish with our time... If we had produced an heir for my lord, instead of spending that time courting like an unwed couple...” Her voice grew thick with emotion. “I am sorry that he is dead: he deserved a longer and better life. I weep for him, and for the child we did not create. And for myself. Without him, I am nothing.”

  “While he lived, you were wife to him, and needed no other purpose,” Anton said. “What role would you play now he is gone?”

  Lady Julianne’s brow creased into a frown.

  “The grieving widow, of course, to begin,” Anton continued. “You will walk the corridors in black veil and weeds, clutching your handkerchief to your breast, like a child with its comforter. But then what role?”

  She shrugged, returned her stare to the night beyond the glass.

  “Will you show yourself a whore?” Anton asked.

  She turned sharply, her eyes bright. “A whore?”

  “Have you not considered accepting Sheldrake’s advances? Have you not wondered what would seem to be a suitable period of mourning before you could go with him to the altar and then to bed? Will you sleep between the same sheets that you shared with your just departed husband?”

  Her eyes blazed angrily and hot tears rolled down her face. “Why do you say this to me?”

  “Tell me that I am wrong and you will have my apology.”

  “What right have you to speak to me like this?” she asked.

  “The right of the fool to speak what truths others dare not. Could you love Sheldrake?”

  “It is of no matter.”

  “It matters to me, and should to you.”

  “How does it matter to you, fool? You will leave this place, leaving the people of Sangreston to their fate. What do you care whether I accept Sheldrake or no?” she asked.

  “True, in time I will move on, it is my nature. But I will not leave this town with Captain Sheldrake in any position of power.”

  Julianne frowned. “Why?”

  “Because as an entertainer I prefer to leave my audiences with a tidy and joyful ending. Leaving this town in Sheldrake’s care would be neither tidy nor a cause for long-term happiness.”

  “I am only a woman. I might eventually come to love Sheldrake, and if not,” She shrugged. “What can I do but submit? A woman needs a home and a husband. Is it such a terrible decision to make?”

  “How kind of him to offer you shelter in your own castle. How generous to allow you the security which is already yours. What selflessness he shows in offering to share with you what is already yours by right!” Anton said.

  “Why do you speak against him?” Julianne asked. “Why do you call me whore for considering his offer?”

  “You would consider sharing your bed with the man who killed your husband, and for this your payment would be freedom to ignore your responsibilities. Submission for payment makes you a whore,” Anton said.

  “Sheldrake killed my husband?”

  “Aye. Sheldrake killed your husband. I believe he also killed the previous captain, to gain the office for himself. And Sheldrake will kill me given the opportunity.

  “Call him if you will. Have me arrested, you will be free to marry him. You can stay within these walls and never again have to step into the world which lies beyond. You will live in safety, without ever having to risk facing a new experience. You might regret things you did not do, and you might feel that you will never again be happy, but your problems will be ended.”

  “Or just beginning,” she said softly. She breathed deeply, then turned to Anton, her stare direct.

  “What proof can you offer me that what you say is true?”

  Anton shrugged. “At present only second-hand report and hearsay. But if you will stay your decision and consider what I have said, then I will prove to you that his heart is as black as I say. Before the week is out, all will know of his guilt from his own lips.”

  Julianne smiled weakly. “You are beginning to sound like one of your plays,” she said. Her smile faded. “I am afraid. Afraid that I am too weak to accept a lord’s responsibilities. Afraid also to be alone.”

  “You need not be alone. Within these castle walls you will find many advisers and confidants. Men your husband trusted, and who helped him govern this town. Seek them out. Listen to their advice. If you show them that you have the strength to lead, they will gladly follow: they are more afraid than you are.”

  “I will consider what you have said,” Julianne said.

  “It is all I ask. We will talk again, my lady. But meantimes, do not speak of what you have learned tonight. If Sheldrake is forewarned, our plans may come to nothing.”

  Julianne smiled. “You will have me playing a role in this drama of yours?”

  “We are all actors in the greatest drama of all,” Anton smiled. He bowed theatrically, and exited.

   

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  “Tell us how the bandits took my Griselda,” Grimwade said.

  He looked every bit the grieving husband, dressed entirely in black, his eyes reddened. It was all for the benefit of the executor of Griselda’s will, a prissy little man who sat on the couch next to him. A large jug of wine and goblets were laid out on a little table, within easy reach of all.

  Anton and Edison look
ed up.

  “We had made an early start to our journey,” Edison began. “Griselda told us that she wanted to arrive in time for one of her mother’s excellent evening meals. We travelled along the highway until we reached the forest. At any other time, we might have taken the road around the forest, but we wanted to reach our destination before evening, and we had a great distance to travel. There had been no reported sightings of outlaws this far north for some months, so we thought it might be safe to take the forest road.

  “It was darker and cooler beneath the trees. We ate as we travelled: Grimwade had pies baked especially for Griselda.

  “We had been travelling through the forest for perhaps an hour, when it suddenly grew still. We heard no bird song, no scurrying in the underbrush. The horses stopped suddenly, sniffing the air.

  “I was about to suggest that we turn about and take the safer route, when the outlaws dropped from the trees all around us. Dressed in clothes of green and brown, that had enabled them to disappear amongst the leaves, they surrounded us. From the beginning it seemed obvious that they were intent on carrying Griselda off.”

  “The poor dear, she must have been terrified,” Grimwade said.

  “Quite. Anton and I drew our swords and took up positions to protect the cart as best we could. Initially the outlaws were wary of us, but they had the advantage of numbers. There was what, eight or nine of them?”

  “A dozen, easily,” Anton said.

  “They pressed in from all sides. Some carried swords and daggers, others held stout oak staves or heavy clubs.”

  “They were an ugly, hungry-looking bunch,” Anton said.

  “Desperate.”

  “There was a gleam of hatred in their eyes,” Anton said. “They were wild, dirty and prepared to go to any lengths to get what they wanted. Their leader shouted some unintelligible signal...”

  “More the bellow of a wild animal,” Edison said.

  “And they attacked all at once, almost twenty of them, pressing in. Edison took out two with the first swipe of his sword. I skewered one through the neck. Sweeping left, then right, my blade slashed a vicious stripe down the face of one outlaw, severing the jugular of another.”

  “I myself was trying to fend off blows from four outlaws armed with staff and cudgel, sword and dagger,” Edison said. “My boot caught one in the temple, sending him senseless to the ground. A quick jab had another dead before he fell, and a swipe from my sword had one of the fellows on his knees holding in his tripe.”

  “While Edison was so distracted, I saw one of the swine trying to climb over the back of the cart. I dispatched my present foe with a powerful thrust, and went to Griselda’s side,” Anton said.

  “Leaving two more behind me mortally wounded, I went to assist Anton in protecting our charge. One of the villains had Anton off his horse, and I was left to remove the danger to the fair Griselda. I drew the dagger from my boot and threw it, swift and sure, to bury itself to the hilt in the bastard’s forehead.” Edison slapped his forehead with an open palm for emphasis.

  “I was battling two of the foe simultaneously at ground level,” Anton said. “Despite the fact I had received a stunning blow to the head – see the gash here? – I managed to beat them back away from the cart. I sent one of them scurrying away clutching a pierced groin, while the second tried to keep me at a distance with blows to the gut from his staff.”

  “I leaped into the cart, where two of the wretches were tugging at Griselda, trying to pull her out of her seat,” Edison said. “One of them raised his sword and ran it through my arm – here is the wound – before I all but took his head off with a swipe of my blade. The other left Griselda in order to strike me across the chin with his club. Before I had a chance to recover, another of them leaped onto my back, restraining my sword arm so I could not strike back. Taking advantage of this, the coward in front of me used the opportunity to assail me with cruel and bruising blows.”

  “As the cart rocked behind me with the movements of battle, I was under attack myself on three sides from the largest and most determined of their number. A lucky swipe from a staff had the sword from my grip, and I went down under the combined attack of the three,” Anton said.

  “I threw myself from the carriage, taking the two outlaws with me, in the hope that Griselda might be able to escape while we were both tackling the foe on the ground,” Edison said.

  “But, alas, it was not to be,” Anton continued, “for as we valiantly fought, more outlaws came out of the trees and overpowered us.”

  They stopped and surveyed their audience.

  The executor’s eyes were closed, and Grimwade’s head nodded on his chest.

  “The wine seems to have put them to sleep,” Edison said.

  “Or perhaps it was your storytelling.”

  “Hah!”

  “And what happened then?” The executor’s eyes were shiny little slits.

  “Wha – well, er...” Anton floundered.

  “Anton was knocked unconscious by one of the three who held him to the ground. I tried to make my way to Griselda’s side, but a cowardly blow to the back of my skull felled me. As my own consciousness faded, I saw them lay their hands on Griselda.” Edison stopped, as though the memory was almost too much for him to bear. “We regained our senses a little time later, beside the road. We searched for some hours, but of the outlaws and of Griselda, there was no sign. We made our way back here to break the terrible news to Mr. Grimwade. We were so ashamed to have failed him, to have allowed his beloved wife to fall into the hands of such barbarians.” Edison stared at the floor, his face showing a reasonable facsimile of combined rage and shame.

  “You must not blame yourself,” the little man said. “It sounds from your account as though you were somewhat outnumbered.”

  “Indeed. But if we could only have made that little extra effort,” Edison said.

  “There was no more that you could have done,” Grimwade yawned. “The Guard are searching the forest even now, and I have two teams of my own men out. If the outlaws are within fifty miles of here we will find them, and we shall soon have our dear Griselda returned to the family and friends that love her. Within a few days all of this will seem like a bad dream.”

  “Indeed,” the little man said, getting to his feet. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I must make my report to the Guard, and then I must look over the papers that Grisleda Grimwade entrusted to me.”

  “Do you think he was impressed by our story?” Anton asked, after the little man had gone.

  “How could he have failed to be?” Edison said.

  Grimwade eyed the two of them suspiciously.

  “Is something amiss?” Edison asked.

  Grimwade smiled then, but the look in his eyes did not change. “I think all will soon be well,” the hunchback said.

   

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  “What is it?” Sheldrake asked.

  The young Guardsman stood nervously in the office doorway. “Sir!” He saluted smartly. “There is a woman here, sir, wants to lodge a complaint.”

  Sheldrake looked up from the papers on his desk. “Tell her she’s come to the wrong place, the Guard don’t deal with complaints.”

  “It is a complaint against the Guard, sir.”

  Sheldrake sighed. “I don’t need to be involved – get Lieutenant Walcott to handle it.”

  “He’s not here, sir.”

  “Well, where is he? It’s his watch...”

  “Don’t know, sir. He left earlier. Said he had to meet someone. Didn’t say where, sir.”

  Sheldrake heaved his tired body out of the chair. “Very well, I’ll deal with it.”

  “Disgraceful, that’s what I call it,” the woman said. “Guardsmen are supposed to defend the people, not go around subjecting them to indecent fondlings.”

  The woman had been speaking for ten minutes without pausing for breath, and Sheldrake’s head was pounding. “My dear woman, if...”

&n
bsp; “Don’t you ‘my dear woman’ me! I want something done about it. We’re decent people, and shouldn’t have to put up with your men groping us.”

  “You were groped by a Guardsman?” Sheldrake asked.

  “Not me, her.” She pointed to a young woman who was standing by the door, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

  “Your daughter?” Sheldrake said.

  “No, my late husband’s mother,” the woman snapped. “Of course she’s my daughter. Who else would your men fondle?”

  “I am trying to determine whether they have fondled anyone,” Sheldrake said.

  “Are you calling my daughter a liar?”

  “How can she be lying when she hasn’t been allowed to say anything?” Sheldrake asked. “Now, miss, won’t you please tell me exactly what happened?”

  “I’ll tell you what happened,” the old woman said.

  “I’d sooner have it from her,” Sheldrake said.

  “You’re as bad as they are!” The old woman’s voice rose an octave.

  “I mean her story,” Sheldrake said.

  “It’s not a story, it’s a factual account,” the old woman said sulkily.

  “Whatever it is, I would like to hear it from your daughter.”

  “Come and tell him what happened, Deirdre, tell him how you was assaulted by those soldiers while you was going about your lawful business.” She waved her daughter forwards.

  Deirdre hung back, staring at the floor. “Mother...”

  The old woman grabbed her daughter’s arm and pulled her forward. “You tell him.”

  “I don’t want to make a fuss,” Deirdre said.

  “No, you can leave that to your mother,” Sheldrake said. “Tell me what happened.”

  “It was last night,” Deirdre said. “I’d been in... that is, I’d just come out of...” She glanced towards her mother. “I came out of The Three Barrels, and was...”

  “The Three Barrels? You said you’d been doing needlework at your cousins!” the old woman said.

  “Madam, please, we’ll be at this all day if you keep interrupting,” Sheldrake said.