With a Jester of Kindness

by K. C. Herbel

  Billy sat up on the floor of the hallway just outside the kitchen. Still stunned, he considered the mess surrounding him. Far down the hall he heard a crash and the voice of his attacker shouting in his foreign tongue.

  As Don Miguel’s voice faded into the distance, laughter and applause filled Billy’s ears. Don Miguel had caused an unprecedented mess for the servants to clean up, but the entertainment must have been worth the few broken dishes. The kitchen staff stood Billy up and patted him on the back, laughing and congratulating him on his “victory.” He felt like a hero for a moment, until he remembered the mess he and Don Miguel had created.

  Billy started to clean up the mess, but all the servants insisted that he leave the cleaning to them. All that is, except Beth. She handed him a tray and placed broken pottery on it. It reminded him of the time his father’s inn had been the site of what was commonly called “the valley’s finest brawl.”

  Billy and Beth worked well together, and she seemed to enjoy his company. Frankly, Billy found her company equally welcome. There, in the kitchen, in the midst of common folk, he felt truly at home for the first time since his arrival.

  Even after the mess was cleaned up, Billy stayed to help in the kitchen. He fit in so well that the staff forgot he was a guest. When things quieted down, the servants fell into their usual habits, chatting the scuttlebutt that castle servants do.

  “Gawd help us, but Her Ladyship’s man lit out o’ here in a fume, now didn’t he?” said Meggy, the burly cook who had saved Billy from Scarosa’s dagger.

  “Oh, the temper on that man!” said another servant.

  “I’ll say!” said yet another.

  “I wonder where he was goin’,” asked Billy.

  “I heard that snake, what was just in here, whisperin’ somethin’ about Her Ladyship and Sir Hugh bein’ together in the garden.”

  “Aw, now that’s been long dead and buried,” said an elderly cook-woman, “ere since he come to live here!”

  “Now what’s he gone and dug up old bones like that for?”

  “He’s after somethin’.”

  “What?” asked Billy.

  “Who knows?” answered the old woman.

  “But whatever it is, he’s in it now, and ya know what that means.”

  “Well,” said Meggy, “the first Ruddar may have kicked all the ill-tempered giants out of Cyndyn Hall, but the last Ruddar . . .”

  “God rest his soul!” piped all the servants in unison.

  “The last one went an’ let ’em back in!”

  The servants laughed.

  “That’s a good’n, Meggy!” said a girl holding her side.

  “I don’t understand,” said Billy.

  Meggy stopped giggling and looked at him. “Oh, it’s nothin’ my boy, just a bunch of old hens havin’ a chuckle. Say, Beth, why don’t ya take the young master here an’ fetch us some water?”

  “Yes, Mum,” answered Beth. “Will you follow me, sir?”

  Billy nodded, and they left the kitchen. Beth led the way to the well at her usual pace. Billy lengthened his stride to catch up with her, and she quickened her own to stay ahead. Before they knew it, they were running across a large stone courtyard.

  In the middle of the yard there was a small well with a bucket on a rope. They arrived at the well simultaneously and stared across at each other, panting. Billy took the bucket and dropped it into the well. He tried to catch his breath as he hauled the full bucket back up the deep well.

  Still winded, Billy looked to Beth and asked, “What were they talking about?”

  “Who?”

  “The cooks.”

  “When?”

  “Just now. Don’t ya want to talk about it?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “Oh! Why not?”

  “I don’t wanna catch trouble.”

  “Trouble?” asked Billy. “With who?”

  “Him! Sir Aonghas!”

  “You wouldn’t get into trouble with him.”

  “Oh, ya don’t know.”

  “What?”

  “Well . . . Ya promise not to repeat a single word of this?”

  Billy ceremoniously crossed his heart.

  “He, Sir Aonghas, isn’t usually as he’s been of late. He’s usually not so nice to us. When he’s drunk—which is nearly all the time—he beats the servants, but since you’ve been here he’s changed. My mum says it’s on account of you. Well that is until a day ago. He’s been spending a lot of time with Don Miguel. My mum says he’s a bad one, that he’s just an idle troublemaker an’ a worthless smell-feast! Well, you know. Ya saw him today. An’ he’s nothin’ compared to Sir Aonghas on a jag.”

  “Yes,” said Billy, “I think I know what you mean. We’ve just got to keep him from drinking so much.”

  “Aye, but how?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Billy filled two large jugs by the well and picked them up to carry back to the kitchen. Beth tried to carry them for him, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

  “I’m not useless ya know!” Billy said and started back towards the kitchen.

  Beth snuck under his arm and hoisted a jug from his grip. “I’m not useless either,” she said with a smile.

  “Yes, I know. Say what was that business about Lady Myrredith and Sir Hugh?”

  “Well . . . you’ll probably find out about that anyway,” she said half under her breath. She set down her jug, and Billy did likewise.

  “Long ago,” she started, “Sir Hugh and Her Ladyship were very close. Everyone thought they would marry . . . and so they would have, if her father hadn’t given her to him.”

  “Sir Hugh and Lady Myrredith?”

  “Aye.”

  “I think I finally understand.”

  The two of them stood for a moment, each contemplating their situation. After a sigh from both, they picked up the water and silently carried it to the kitchen.

  * * *

  That night at the evening meal, Billy did his best to keep Sir Aonghas in good spirits and yet keep him away from the alcoholic kind. It wasn’t easy, for each time Sir Aonghas finished a drink, Don Miguel snapped his fingers, and the servants filled the empty cup. The only course for Billy was to start singing early and get Scarosa out of the picture.

  As before, Billy started with songs that everyone could sing along with him. All those years he had spent listening to drunken singers in his father’s inn were finally paying off. He knew many popular songs, and soon everyone was singing, laughing, and having a good time.

  The only ones who didn’t join in were Sir Aonghas and Don Miguel, who sat together brooding and drinking far too much ale. Billy made several attempts to get Lady Myrredith’s husband away from the Spaniard, only to be pushed away by the latter. Billy became very concerned when he saw Scarosa whisper into the brutish knight’s ear.

  Aonghas looked over his tankard at his wife and her former suitor, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. His eyes seethed with jealous anger, and he slammed his drink down on the table. All eyes focused on him as he stood and kicked his chair away. Finally he leaned on the table and scowled at his wife and Sir Hugh.

  A servant approached him from behind and timidly asked, “Is there something I can fetch for milord?”

  Aonghas turned and grabbed the servant by the neck, sending the serving tray of spiced meats flying. He growled at the servant through clenched teeth then threw him to the floor. Lastly, he shot a dark look at Billy, who steered clear of him as he stormed from the dining hall.

  “Where are you going?” asked Lady Myrredith.

  “Out, woman!” he blurted, without slowing.

  “Where?” she demanded.

  Lady Myrredith’s husband stopped in midstride and turned halfway round to face his wife. He looked down his shoulder at her, with one corner of his lip curled. “I’m going to town,” he said, biting off each syllable. With that, he turned and exited in a rage.

  The hall was still silent when Don Miguel q
uietly slipped away from the table and headed after Sir Aonghas.

  “Don Miguel,” said Lady Myrredith in a commanding tone.

  “Yes, Your Ladyship,” said the Spaniard sheepishly.

  “Don’t come back.”

  “I beg Your Ladyship’s pardon?”

  “Do not come back,” she restated. “I do not want to see you or even hear of your presence on Cyndyn lands ever again. If I do, I can assure you that you will not be pleased with my solution. Now, good-bye!”

  “But my things . . .”

  “Eadwig,” continued Lady Myrredith, “see to it that this vagabond and his belongings are off Cyndyn lands within the hour.”

  “A pleasure, milady,” answered Eadwig from behind her chair.

  Don Miguel simply bowed his head and took his lute from Billy. Eadwig snapped his fingers twice, and Don Miguel followed the chamberlain out of the great hall.

  Lady Myrredith watched the troubadour leave and then turned to Billy. “I should have done that days ago . . . William, please sing for us a happy song, so that we can forget this unsavory business.”

  * * *

  Before he went to bed, Billy got a lamp from Eadwig, the chamberlain, and reexamined the faerie tapestry. Every night since seeing it, he had dreamt of going to Tirn Aill, and now, even in the day, he was dreaming about it.

  That night, as Billy dreamt, he saw himself, Sir Hugh, and Lady Myrredith all running off to Faerieland. Suddenly his dream shattered, and he sat upright in the bed. He felt the same familiar chill as he looked into the darkness at the eyes that were, as before, staring back at him from across the room. He reached back to the bedside table and flung the shutter off the lamp. Instantly the room was light.

  Billy’s eyes popped open in astonishment. A young boy stood across the room where the eyes had been. He was dressed in fine white clothing and high soft boots of grey leather. The boy shaded his pale eyes and shrunk away from the light. He seemed to stare at the faerie tapestry for a moment and then silently turned and walked to the corner behind the armor. Billy watched as he disappeared into the shadows.

  Billy jumped out of bed and scurried to the corner. As he neared the armor, the lamplight spread itself around the corner, illuminating the area. Billy looked left and then right, but no one was there. He leapt back and spun around to scrutinize the room behind him. He was alone.

  Just to be sure, Billy covered every corner in the room, searching all the nooks and crannies large enough to hide a boy. He began to think he’d seen an aberration.

  Billy went back to the spot where he last saw the boy. He examined the empty corner then shrugged and turned to go back to bed. At that moment he felt a chill run up his spine, and he scampered back to bed as quickly as his feet would carry him.

  It was no sooner than he covered the lamp and lay down that he was sitting up again. He lifted the hood of the lamp and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the corner. Something gnawed at his mind.

  “A secret passage!” he exclaimed.

  Quickly, Billy slipped on his shoes and shuffled back to the corner to reexamine it. He spent the next few minutes looking for his secret door, scouring the corner for a clue, for even a hint of a clue, but he really didn’t know what he was looking for. He remembered that the other secret doors, shown to him by Lady Myrredith, were crafted so well that he hadn’t been able to detect them until they were opened. He searched a few minutes more for a hidden lever or trigger stone. He found nothing.

  He’d been so terribly restless the past two days, for lack of something to do, and now he had something truly interesting. He began to wonder if this new intrigue might be a product of his imagination or simply a case of wishful thinking.

  Billy leaned back against the suit of armor and rested his hand on the sword. The sword shifted with a soft click and immediately the wall in front of him opened. He shivered, not sure if it was due to the icy draft, which came from the newly opened portal, or the excitement of finding it.

  “Well at least it’s not my imagination,” he whispered.

  Billy flew to his bed and donned his clothes, stuffing several candles into his special pocket. Then he rushed back to his new discovery and stood staring into its gaping blackness.

  What about Lady Myrredith’s warning? Surely I won’t get lost! I’ll only go a little ways, then I’ll come back the exact same way.

  Armed only with the light from his lamp, he took a deep breath and stepped through the opening.

  Billy found himself in a small bare circular room with a domed ceiling and a narrow passage leading off to the right. There was a soft, low moan coming from the passage. Billy surmised that it was caused by the cold draft coming through it. He took the passage, which almost immediately turned into an even narrower stairway. The small stone steps wound their way, like a snake, down into the darkness, turning too sharply to see more than a few feet at a time. Suddenly there was a sound from down below. Billy stopped.

  “Who’s there?” he asked timidly.

  Billy’s voice echoed in the stairwell, coming back to his ears like bubbling water. As the sound faded, it seemed to change. It seemed to be laughing at him. He held his breath and listened again. It was quiet. Then he heard the sound he had heard before, coming from further down the stairs. It was like someone running on a stone floor. Again he thought he heard laughter. Billy swallowed, tightened his grip on the lamp, and continued down the steps.

  The snaking steps became tightly coiled, descending round and round until Billy felt dizzy and out of breath. He went faster and faster, feeling strongly drawn to whatever was waiting for him at the end of the passage. He knew that he must be under the ground by now, and still it continued to go deeper and deeper into the earth. The air smelled of moist soil. Slick patches of slimy black fungus grew between the stones of the dark passage, which glistened with moisture. The farther he went, the harder it was to maintain his footing, and he became frantic.

  All of a sudden, Billy’s feet slipped out from under him, and he went sliding and tumbling down the steps. He rolled uncontrollably down the passage, not missing a single painful step, his lamp clattering down behind him. Without warning, the steps ended, and Billy was hurled into the darkness.

  * * *

  Billy’s head pounded like an empty keg rolling down a cobblestone road. Slowly he opened his eyes. He had been unconscious for a while—for how long, he couldn’t tell.

  Once he regained the focus of his eyes, Billy saw that he sat on a stone floor, near the center of a large circular chamber with several narrow dark doorways. His lamp was resting on the floor, just a few feet away. Like the first room of the secret passage, this chamber was topped with a high domed ceiling. Around the room he could see several large rectangular pedestals of stone, one of which supported his back. Each pedestal was approximately seven or eight feet long and carved with intricate patterns and the images of dancing skeletons. There were statues of people atop many of them. Billy thought it odd that the statues were of people lying on their backs.

  Billy’s attention returned to the lamp. It was sitting upright, glowing with its usual dim, quivering light. It seemed strange that it would still be lit.

  Billy felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Quickly he turned and looked to the top of the pedestal behind him. The mysterious boy he had seen in his room was there, staring down at him. Billy fell back to the floor in surprise. The boy smiled and jumped agilely to the floor at Billy’s feet. He stood towering over Billy, pointing and laughing. Then just as quickly, he turned and ran down one of the corridors leading from the chamber. Billy got up, grabbed his lamp, and gave chase.

  “Wait!”

  Billy followed the boy for several minutes, often losing sight of him. He chased the sound of his laughter, catching a glimpse of him as he turned a corner into another tunnel. The boy led him down several corridors, through a number of small rooms and a half-dozen intersections before Billy realized he didn’t know where he was going, whe
re he was, or even which way he had come.

  Billy stood in the middle of a four-way intersection. He looked down the corridor behind him. Its smooth floor, steeply angled walls, and arched ceiling looked exactly like those of the other three tunnels. Far off to his right, laughter echoed in the corridors.

  “Blast!” shouted Billy. He looked again down the corridors, searching for something that might look familiar. Not seeing anything uniquely recognizable, he shouted after his prey. “Boy! Boy! Come back!”

  Laughter from some far-off tunnel was his only reply.

  “I should have listened to Lady Myrredith,” Billy muttered.

  Suddenly the boy was standing before him. The youth smiled at Billy and shrugged apologetically. Then he turned and motioned for Billy to come. Billy eyed the intersection and the corridors, pondering whether he should follow the boy or his instincts, which were confused.

  “Oh well,” sighed Billy as he moved to follow the boy.

  The mysterious boy never looked back at Billy, and as with Beth on Billy’s first morning in Cyndyn Hall, the boy never allowed Billy to come along beside him.

  Billy didn’t know why he continued to chase the boy, when he didn’t know where they were going. Something was pulling him forward, drawing him closer. The boy laughed. Billy thought, if only he could catch the elusive boy, he could put an end to this silly game and go home, but each time he started to catch up, the boy increased the pace. They were now sprinting down the corridors. The strange boy’s laughter increased in proportion to their speed. Billy was starting to tire. He knew he would have to stop soon, but he was too out of breath to say anything.

  At that moment Billy’s lamp sputtered and went out. Suddenly enveloped in darkness, Billy stopped running and knelt on the floor to catch his breath. The mysterious boy’s laughter continued forward, down the corridor.

  “Stop,” gasped Billy. “Stop!”

  Billy fumbled with the lamp as he recovered his wind. The sounds of his mysterious guide grew distant and faded away, replaced by the reverberation of his own labored breathing. Billy located the tiny tinderbox in the lamp’s base and removed it. The flint and steel slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor. Billy panicked. His heart began to race as he groped the cold floor in the darkness. At last he found the tools and after considerable effort managed to light the lamp.