With a Jester of Kindness

by K. C. Herbel

  The Night Queen struck him in the throat and started toward Billy, but Gareth would not let go. She hissed at him and renewed her attack.

  Just then, Owein managed to wrench the Night Queen’s spear from his body. He turned the grisly, barbed weapon and drove it into her back with both hands.

  Sparks flew, and a shrill screech burst from the Night Queen’s mouth as she threw her arms open wide. Owein held on to the spear and was thrust backwards. Simultaneously, Darn’s mount nudged the others, and they all swayed against the bridge’s side.

  Snap! The heavy railing shattered, twisting the nearest support with a crunch. The bridge groaned, and the occupied section dropped abruptly to one side. The combatants scrambled to climb over each other and escape, but the sudden tilt and the momentum of the horses carried them further into the gap.

  Billy dismounted and stepped on to the collapsing bridge. The horses whinnied and danced on the pitching, groaning planks, sending shock waves through the wood under his feet.

  The Night Queen freed herself from her spear as Gareth’s wide-eyed horse skidded out from under him and fell into the gorge. Despite her wounds and Gareth’s weight, she clawed her way over Darn and his mount, never taking her eyes off Billy.

  The planking beneath them sagged further, and Billy fell on his backside. He grabbed for a bridge support but missed and slid down toward the panicky horses. The Night Queen dragged Darn’s body from his saddle. The knight fell between the frantic, slipping hooves of the horses with a metallic clash and shooshed over the edge into the gorge.

  Billy backpedaled as fast as he could, trying to stay out of the tangled mess of horses and warriors. In the blink of an eye, Darn’s horse stomped Billy’s ankle, and he cried out in pain.

  The Night Queen grabbed hold of Darn’s saddlebow and dragged herself forward. She was directly above Billy now, and she drew back her dagger to strike him. “You’ll never see Tirn Aill!” she hissed.

  Suddenly Owein appeared next to Gareth, and they grabbed the Night Queen by the arm and torso. The bridge twisted with a bang, and they all slid into the gap. The Night Queen screamed, “No!” and desperately reached for Billy as the knights and horses dragged her over the edge.

  Billy slid uncontrollably toward the edge directly behind them. He saw the gorge bottom looming below and the edge of the bridge go by under his feet. Just then his shirt caught on a splintered plank causing him and his heart to come to an abrupt stop. He dangled over the precipice in petrified silence. The only sound was the wind in the trees, then a loud crash echoed through the gorge, restarting his heart.

  The bridge creaked, and Billy turned to grab hold of its boards. Once he had wedged his fingers between the planks, he tore himself free from the splintered wood and slowly climbed up the bowed bridge. The structure swayed and bounced with each handhold or foothold, complaining almost as much as his injured ankle.

  Finally Billy stood on the rim of the gorge with Briallen. He looked down to where the Night Queen and King William’s knights had met with their fate.

  “What did she mean: I would never see Tirn Aill?” Billy mused. “How did she know I’m headed there?”

  He glanced once more into the gorge, which had nearly claimed him with the others. Its black depths seemed to draw him forward with an open invitation. Still shivering, he mounted Briallen and trotted from the King’s Road into the trees.

  Chapter XXVII

  Convergence

  Billy entered Dyven under the cover of night. He left Briallen near the old abbey where he furtively purloined a small bag of oats for her. Quickly, he crossed the orchard and climbed on to the wall where he had seen his first city street. His injured ankle was now only an annoyance. He scrutinized the dimly lit street then plucked an apple and dropped to the cobblestones.

  Billy picked his way through the winding alleys of the city, looking for the spot where he first met Stitch. Along the way, he borrowed some clothes, which were conveniently left out for him by some generous laundress. They were nearly as ragged as the clothes given him by Gryff—which he left in exchange—but they were clean, and so he left a silver coin for her trouble.

  Billy wandered for hours, until he finally stumbled across the little shop with the shoe over the door. Billy sat down behind some barrels, pulled his new cloak around him, and waited for the dawn.

  At last, the sound of peddler songs began to rise throughout the city. Billy stayed put, hoping that Stitch would show up soon. Suddenly, he was dragged from behind the barrels into the alley.

  “What are ya doin’ here?” asked Stitch, clutching Billy’s cloak front.

  “Stitch! It’s me! Billy!”

  “I knowd it was you,” snarled Stitch. “Now what’re ya doin’ here?”

  “Lookin’ for you,” answered Billy.

  “Now ain’t that nice,” said Stitch. “You’re lookin’ for me! The whole bloomin’ country’s lookin’ for you!”

  “I know.”

  “Lucky for me that I found ya, first.”

  “Lucky for you?”

  “Aye,” said Stitch. “You’re my out.”

  “Your out?”

  “Don’t act so stupid!” spat Stitch, shoving Billy against the wall of the alley. “When I turn ya in, I’ll get me a reward that’ll set me up for good.”

  “I thought you would help me,” said Billy.

  “Help you?” said Stitch on the verge of laughing. “Why should I help a lyin’, murderin’ thief like you?”

  “I didn’t do it, Stitch!”

  Stitch stared keenly into Billy’s eyes. “I must be the king of all fools,” he said, releasing Billy.

  “Why?” asked Billy. “Because you believe me?”

  “No,” answered the hardened street urchin, still disgusted by his own generous nature. “Because I should still turn ya in!”

  “But ya won’t?”

  “Naw.”

  Billy smiled at Stitch. “Now, here’s what I need . . .”

  “Whoa there!” said the boy, holding up his hands. He took a moment and looked both ways down the alley. “I haven’t said I’d help ya.”

  Billy looked Stitch square in the face and without pleading asked, “Will you?”

  The good-hearted thief threw up his hands and shrugged. “Why not? They’ll probably hang me anyway. Might as well be for somethin’ I did.”

  “I hope it won’t come to that,” said Billy. “I’ll only need your help long enough to get out of town.”

  “Then leave now! Just steal a horse or . . .”

  “I have to get to Erin.”

  “The Emerald Isle?” asked Stitch, screwing up his face.

  “Aye.”

  “It gets stranger and stranger.”

  “What?”

  “There happens to be two Albion ships in port right now. They’re both sailin’ to Erin—one today—the other in a few days.”

  “Great!” exclaimed Billy. “What’s so strange about that?”

  “Ships from Albion hardly ever come here this time of year. An’ no one wants to go to Erin, what with Gwyddea about to attack any moment. An’ then you come, lookin’ for a ship to Erin . . . It’s strange.”

  “Lucky,” corrected Billy.

  “Ya make your own luck,” stated Stitch. “This is strange.”

  “What are the ships’ named?” asked Billy.

  “One is the Windan, the other . . . the Mean Gold, or some such.”

  “How do I get to the ships?”

  “Go past the market, then follow your nose.”

  “But I can’t just stroll over there! What if I’m seen?”

  Stitch wrinkled his nose and scratched his head. “There is a way . . . but I’ll have to show ya.”

  “And I won’t be seen?”

  “I don’t know,” said Stitch. “I spotted ya behind those barrels easy enough. Were ya tryin’ to hide?”

  Billy remained silent.

  “Well ya better stick close to me, and do exactly as I
say!”

  “Fine,” agreed Billy.

  * * *

  Stitch took Billy down many narrow alleys and across a few rooftops. They avoided contact with people except where they had no choice. They even waited in the refuse of a gutter, as guardsmen passed over them.

  By noon they were atop a large warehouse near the docks. Billy’s own wretched smell overwhelmed him. He hadn’t any idea how anyone could follow his nose under such conditions, until he got a whiff of the docks. Billy mentally went over the convoluted path they had taken, in an attempt to memorize it. It seemed impossible, and if he had to do it at night . . .

  Stitch pointed to two ships, each with two tall masts, floating amid the fishing boats. “That’s them,” he said.

  At that moment there were only two men on deck. The first was a big hairy man with a beard, who reminded Billy of Sir Aonghas. He shouted at the other man and pointed, with his only hand, to the stern of the ship. The second man, who was even larger than the first, nodded curtly and obediently ran to the back. Billy’s attention stayed with the one-armed man.

  “That must be the captain,” said Stitch.

  “Ya think so?” asked Billy.

  Stitch laughed. “If not, that giant would squash him like a bug.”

  “Giant?” whispered Billy, taking another look at the large sailor.

  “Ya ever seen a giant before?”

  “Only once,” Billy said flatly.

  Billy watched the captain as he walked to the bow. He stopped at the railing and whistled to two women who waived at him from across the docks. On the side, beneath his feet, painted in red letters was the name of the ship.

  Billy read the name aloud, “The Gyldan Mene.”

  “That’s the name,” affirmed Stitch. Then he looked at Billy, an expression of surprise on his face. “Ya know that ship?”

  “No,” said Billy. “I read the name on her side.”

  Stitch’s expression changed from surprise to amazement. “You can read?”

  “Aye.”

  “Come on,” said Stitch, crawling to the back of the warehouse, “let’s get a better look.”

  Billy followed Stitch down a rope at the side of the building, into a maze of crates and barrels. As they made their way to the front of the warehouse, Billy thought about how much Stitch knew and did, all without the ability to read or write. The little thief, like most everyone, seemed to do fine despite an ignorance of letters and the like.

  Stitch stopped at the mouth of the alley and assessed the docks. At last he stood up and waved for Billy to follow. Billy likewise studied the area before exiting.

  It felt great to walk on the docks, in the sunshine and fresh air, mingling amongst housewives, servants, sailors, and fishmongers. Gulls called overhead, while below children joyfully screamed with the excitement of playing in the water. In those strange, carefree, and happy surroundings, Billy almost forgot that he was a fugitive. As he approached the Gyldan Mene, he wished that he could forget—for just one afternoon.

  The peace was abruptly pierced by a loud, tenor voice shouting, “Stop those boys!”

  Billy spun around and found himself in the middle of a widening path that split the crowd like wind in a wheat field. Stitch had vanished, leaving Billy standing completely alone. At the far end of the clearing there were six guardsmen. Situated amid their spear tips was a slovenly dressed fat man on a shaggy black cob. The man made eye contact with Billy and leered like a snake with a mouse in its den.

  “Derian,” muttered Billy, remembering the man’s name.

  “Take him!” barked Derian to his men.

  Instantly the guards lowered their weapons and charged. Without thinking, Billy ran in the opposite direction. Fortunately, the crowd had also split behind him; unfortunately, the only place for Billy to run was farther down the pier, and beyond that . . . the bay.

  Billy recognized his limited situation as the end of the pier drew near. He looked over his shoulder and saw the guards hot on his tail. If only there was somewhere to run, he thought, I could lose these old men. His mind raced as his feet diminished the possibilities. Suddenly he was at the end of the pier. Billy stopped.

  The guardsmen slowed down to approach him cautiously. He shifted his focus, back and forth, between them and the drop to the water. The tide was out, making the water seem far away.

  “Give it up, boy,” said one guard.

  “Aye, the sergeant’s right,” said another. “Ya got nowhere to go.”

  Billy backed up until his heels were on the edge of the pier. He grabbed a post to steady himself.

  “I can see what you’re thinkin’, boy . . . but there be sharks in them waters,” said the sergeant.

  Billy carefully eyed the water.

  “You don’t know how to swim . . . do ya boy?” continued the sergeant.

  Billy smiled at the man and said, “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  With that, Billy stepped back and dropped from sight. The guards rushed forward to witness him plunge into the chilly waters of the bay.

  “He did it!” exclaimed one of the dumbfounded guards, as they watched Billy’s bubbles rise to the surface of the water.

  “Aye,” said the guard next to him. “I wouldn’t have done it.”

  The sergeant nudged his companion and said, “That’s because ya haven’t got any guts, Dairn.”

  “Well, we’ll see how much guts he’s got when the sharks finish with him!” said the man defensively.

  “There aren’t any sharks in there,” said the guard who until that time had remained quiet.

  “There aren’t?” exclaimed Dairn.

  “Naw,” said the sergeant. “I just said that to keep him from jumpin’.”

  “Oh,” mouthed Dairn. “How long is he gonna be down there, anyway?”

  As if to answer Dairn’s query, Billy came up, gasping for air. He looked up at the guards standing on the dock far over his head.

  “Stay there, boy,” shouted their sergeant. “We’ll throw ya down a rope.”

  “No thanks,” shouted Billy turning to swim away.

  “You’ll drown!” shouted another guard.

  “The sharks will eat ya if ya don’t come out now!” shouted Dairn.

  Billy paid the guards and their sergeant no heed. He just concentrated on swimming for the opposite shore. It would be a long swim, but he didn’t have any choice.

  When Billy had swum about fifty yards, he looked back over his shoulder. The guardsmen were still standing at the end of the pier arguing with Derian, who had ridden out to them.

  “Go after him, ya fools!” demanded the corpulent man from his horse.

  “I can’t swim,” stated the sergeant.

  “Neither can I,” said another.

  “Nor I,” confessed Dairn.

  Shortly, all six guards were engrossed in a discussion of why none of them had ever learned to swim, and how many of their relatives didn’t know how to either, and wasn’t it funny that they should all happen to grow up inland and end up on the same squad together, and yet they never knew . . .

  “Shut up!” screamed Derian at the top of his lungs. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

  The guards quieted and stood at attention.

  “I suppose none of ya knows how to use a boat either,” said Derian.

  Each man looked to the left and right, expecting one of the others to say that he knew how to use a boat.

  “My cousin’s brother-in-law had a boat,” offered Dairn.

  The other five guardsmen exploded with laughter. Dairn gawked at them perplexed but then fell victim to their contagious guffaws.

  Derian scowled at the bay as his prey continued to swim away. “This isn’t over yet, Billy,” he muttered.

  Derian slowly turned his horse and rode back towards the city. He left the squad assigned to him ridiculously rolling on the planks of the pier, holding their middles in uncontrollable, belly-laughing pain.

  * * *

  Late the next day
, Sir Hugh arrived at Cyndyn Hall. Eadwig, the chamberlain, greeted him in the courtyard and instructed the stable boy to tend to his mount.

  “Careful when you give him a rubdown, Thomas,” cautioned Hugh. “Splendore likes his mane brushed, but if you get too many tangles he’ll bite. Of course, you’re already acquainted.”

  The boy smiled knowingly and bowed to Hugh then warily eyed the steed. He tugged on the reins, but Splendore Pomponnel would not budge. Hugh patted the horse on the side and clicked his tongue, at which time Splendore allowed the boy to take him away.

  “That’s a very stubborn and spirited animal,” said Eadwig.

  “Aye,” agreed Hugh. “He’s a Cyndyn.”

  Eadwig gave Hugh a shocked expression, and Hugh laughed. Slowly the old caretaker’s lips curved upward, and he snickered.

  “Aye,” said Eadwig knowingly. “That he is.”

  “Who is what?” asked Lady Myrredith from behind them.

  Hugh turned to face her. Myrredith was completely clad in black. Her beautiful red hair flowed loosely about her shoulders. Hugh’s hand impulsively reached for her, before he constrained it. “Milady,” he said bowing properly.

  Lady Myrredith unexpectedly reached out and hugged him. “Hugh,” she said softly, “how good it is to see you.”

  “And you,” he answered.

  Myrredith turned and led Hugh into Cyndyn Hall. Eadwig followed at a discreet distance.

  “You do know about Kathryn?” asked Hugh cautiously.

  “Aye,” she answered curtly. “I still feel . . .”

  Myrredith painfully searched for the right words. In the end, she only shook her head.

  “I know,” said Hugh. “And Billy . . .”

  “Hugh!” whispered Myrredith, barely able to contain her excitement.

  “What is it?” asked Hugh curiously.

  “I have a secret I would share with you.”

  Hugh scanned the courtyard. From atop the steps he could see that it was empty—aside from Eadwig and themselves. “What is it?”

  “Not here,” she said, continuing into the great hall. “I’ll allow you to freshen up. Have something to eat, then we can talk.”

  “As you wish,” Hugh said hesitantly.

  Hugh hastily cleaned the road dust from his body and changed clothes. Then just as quickly, he devoured half a plate of food and asked where he might find his hostess. He was directed to her garden and went there posthaste.