by Alan Gordon
“Tell me how you managed to get in there.”
“You forget how good I am at talking my way into places,” she said. “It’s how I got to be a duchess in the first place. I just walked up to the gate, pounded on it, and said, ‘I’m the Empress’s new jester.’ The guards looked confused and started whispering to each other. I informed them that if the Empress’s entertainment was delayed, she would be in a foul mood and inclined to take it out on whoever caused the delay. That got me through the gate. They kept passing the responsibility on up the chain of command, and eventually I was in her throne room.”
“Nicely done, but how did you talk your way into Her Grace’s graces?”
“That turned out to be the easiest part. She was sitting there, barking at the servants, with that overgrown guard smirking beside her. When I came in, everyone suddenly became quiet. She looked at me, and said, ‘What are you?’ ‘Your new fool, mistress,’ I replied. She looked at her chamberlain, who hadn’t a clue why I was there, then back at me. ‘I gave no orders for a fool,’ she says. ‘That’s why I’m here,’ I said. ‘If you give an order to a fool, would you expect her to follow it? If you ordered me to appear, I would vanish. But since you ordered no fool, I came as quickly as I could, mistress.’ ”
“Not bad, Apprentice. Not bad at all. Obviously, she liked it.”
“Her chamberlain told me it was the first time she had cracked a smile in a months.”
“Good. So, you’re in. What have you found out?”
“A few things, but I haven’t been there that long. The Emperor’s flutist is definitely reporting to Euphy. I think it’s the only way she can keep track of him. Euphy has her own baths, and takes all her servants with her. Glorious baths, by the way, best I’ve had since I left Orsino.”
“You haven’t had that many.”
“Hush, husband. I was a man, and men don’t bathe that often, more’s the pity. I don’t know why you expect us to be . . .”
“All right, I concede. What did you learn in the baths?”
“Euphy and the flutist chatted in Arabic. I didn’t let on that I understood. Mostly about the state of the Emperor’s health and reason, both of which seem to be declining. Also, about every single word that was spoken before him. She understands Greek perfectly. That simpering ignorance was just an act.”
“It usually is.”
“Euphy got quite irate when she heard how often Alexios was bedding this flutist.”
“I thought she condoned the activity. Alexios said the Empress had approval of his mistresses.”
“She does, but I don’t think she expected him to be this enthusiastic. She hauled off and slapped the woman, then apologized and started crying. She said something odd, ‘It won’t be much longer now.’ ”
“That’s interesting. Do you think she could be behind this?”
Viola chewed on her lip, thinking.
“She’s fully capable,” she said. “Given how he’s treated her over the years, it would be no surprise if she wanted to kill him. And she’s been up to her ears in trying to select his successor, especially in choosing husbands for their daughters. But I can’t think of any event that the Empress would have to wait for in order to carry it out. It just may have been something she said that I’m taking out of context with my nasty, suspicious mind.”
“Stay nasty and suspicious for now, my love. You’ll live longer. Anyone looking crooked at you because you’re a jester?”
“Not so far. I get paid by her chamberlain, fortunately, so I haven’t come face to face with that loathsome treasurer again. I don’t think anyone will recognize me as Claudius, but I’ll keep my makeup on to be safe.”
“Good. Speaking of safety, the password’s no good anymore. Don’t accept it from anyone. If someone says they’re from the Guild, play dumb.”
She gave me a hard look.
“Thalia?” she asked.
I nodded. “She says she was in a delirium.”
“Well, I have some news about your old lover,” she said. “I know where she lives, and I know who her current lover is.”
“As to the second, it’s Captain Stanislaus,” I said, and Viola’s face fell. “As to the first, how the hell did you find that out?”
“I followed her,” she said simply. “After I so heartlessly abandoned you, I picked up my horse, rode out of town, ducked into the nearest cover, and became Aglaia, Apprentice Fool.”
“You’ve had that motley the whole time?”
“Overconfident, I suppose, but I had it made up in Orsino when I first began training. I have a few other costumes as well, including one of those all-purpose monk’s outfits that everyone favors around here.
“So, having transformed myself, I rode back into town through a different gate so nobody would recognize my horse. Then I turned monk and watched your room, waiting for her to show up. Sure enough, she did. She was in there quite a long time, wasn’t she?”
“Mostly because I was downstairs defending my errant servant Claudius from the charge of murdering Asan.”
Her jaw dropped.
“They think I did it?” she said.
“The timing of your disappearance was a little too close to the event for comfort.”
“Oh, dear,” she said. “There goes that disguise. At least I’m clear with Father Esaias. I don’t think anyone else will care after a while.”
“Avoid Stephanos,” I advised her. “He seemed very fond of the lad.”
“I will. Anyhow, after Thalia came back out the window, I followed her. She went to a building near where the Blachernae Wall meets the seawall. It’s by the Cynegion Gate.”
“I know the area. Go on.”
“Well, lo and behold, who should show up but Captain Stanislaus?” she continued with a wicked smile. “And the greeting she gave him! Mutual enthusiasm, which makes me wonder at the sincerity of both of them.”
“Interesting observation,” I said, and I briefly filled her in on what I had seen since we parted.
“Stanislaus approached you,” she wondered. “This is too confusing. I don’t know who is using whom anymore. I couldn’t get close enough to them to overhear anything. But she never spotted me, Master. Do I pass that test?”
“You’ve passed a dozen in the last two days, Apprentice. Now, I’m not sure it’s safe for you to return to the Rooster, even with your makeup.”
“That’s all right. They’ve set me up in a room in Euphy’s side of the palace.”
“Can you bar the door?”
“Bar and bolt, both door and shutters. I’m safe enough as far as that goes. How about you?”
“I’ve moved into Asan’s room,” I said. “It has a bar for the door, but the shutters need some help.” I decided not to tell her how I found that out.
“Asan’s room the day after he was killed? That’s extremely creepy,” she said, shuddering momentarily.
“It’s not bad,” I said. “I had to mop the blood off the floor, but it’s not the first dead man’s room I’ve ever slept in.”
She looked at me.
“There was blood on the floor?” she asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“But there wasn’t any blood on the floor in our room.”
It took great effort not to burst forth in a stream of cursing, but she was a lady again, so I made the effort. And failed.
“Impressive,” she said. “You swore in about eight languages in a row.”
“Practice, practice, practice,” I said. “I’m awfully glad you’re with me on this excursion. I completely missed the significance of the missing blood. There was no blood because the bleeding had stopped before he was in there. Asan wasn’t killed in our room.”
“No,” she said. “I have to say that I’m a bit relieved. I’ve felt a knifepoint at my back for the last two days. Whoever killed him must have killed him in his room and then dragged the body into ours.”
“For what reason?”
“To put the blame on us, I suppo
se. Or to scare us. Or confuse us.”
“Well, it worked. We are collectively blamed, scared, and confused. Who do you think did it?”
“Someone sleeping soundly in the Rooster tonight,” she said. “Maybe you should knock on each door at midnight and see which one doesn’t jump out of his skin.”
“Startling this crew under the current circumstances could get a man killed. Believe it or not, I have Thalia checking out the Rooster’s denizens.”
“You trust her to do that?”
“No, but it keeps her out of the way. And if she’s still on our side, maybe something will come of it. It may be that Asan’s murder has nothing to do with us.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“No. Look, there’s one more thing you haven’t considered in this little sortie of yours.”
“What’s that?”
I hesitated, then went ahead.
“Female jesters have been with the Guild for centuries,” I said. “They’ve been at the Byzantine courts as well. But Byzantine courts being what they are, a lot of the local nobles may not act so nobly when they see you. You’ll be considered fair game.”
“But I am under the protection of the Empress,” she protested.
“And she’s both perverse and insane,” I said. “She might even find your ravishment amusing if she approves of the conqueror. Or she might order you to go and seduce someone if it will further any plot of hers.”
“Oh. I never thought of that. I suppose Thalia had no problem handling that aspect of the job.”
“Apparently not,” I said, chafing a bit under the constant sniping at my former lover. “But you’re going to need more protection than Euphy can provide.”
“What do you have in mind?”
I explained my plan to her. We decided to act upon it in the morning.
“I have to go,” she said. “She wants me to sing to her at bedtime.”
“Would you like to borrow my lute?”
“No, there’s a harp there. I’ll manage. Kiss me, Fool.”
“Very good, milady.”
We parted reluctantly.
“Your makeup’s smeared,” she called over her shoulder as she walked back to the palace.
“So is yours,” I called back.
I nearly turned cartwheels all the way back to the Rooster.
Thalia didn’t wait for me to return to my room. As I was washing up behind the Rooster, a knife hit the water barrel inches from my face. I looked up to see a cowled figure standing in an alleyway nearby. The hands were hers. I pulled out the knife and joined her.
“Most ladies initiate a flirtation by dropping a handkerchief,” I said, handing the knife back to her.
“I’ve been called a lot of things, but a lady has never been one of them,” she said. “Have you heard? There’s a new fool in town.”
“Yes, I know. Her name’s Aglaia. She’s with the Empress.”
“How long have you known about her?” she asked.
“Just met her today.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“I’ve known her for a while,” I said. “But I honestly didn’t know she was going to show up here.”
“So much for getting my position back,” she said bitterly.
“You’ve had plenty of time to get it back,” I pointed out. “Maybe she’ll give it up. Would you like to try?”
She shook her head.
“Not until the man who stabbed me is six feet under,” she said. “I’ll settle for three feet.”
“Fair enough. What have you learned about my good friends and neighbors?”
“The butcher’s a butcher, the huntsman’s a huntsman,” she recited. “Stephanos works for Father Esaias, so he is what he says he is, although that means he’s on the outside of the law in every possible way. The Russians stick together every minute of the day. They spend their time trying to figure out a quick way of getting their money back. The idea of actually working for it doesn’t seem to have crossed their minds.”
“Are they all in fact Russians?”
“Yes. I was eavesdropping on their conversations when they were dicing down at the docks.”
“I didn’t know you spoke Russian.”
“Picked it up from a lover who had come here to study for the priesthood.”
“I hope you taught him well.”
“We taught each other. He’ll be a blessing unto his people, Theo. He took back some fond memories, and left me his language and this useful outfit I’m wearing. And that’s my report, sir. Not much help, is it?”
“It doesn’t eliminate anyone, and it doesn’t put anyone ahead of the pack. All right, thanks for doing that.”
“What about this Aglaia?”
“She’s reporting to me.”
“So, you’re the chief fool in Constantinople now.”
“By default. Remember, at the time the Guild sent me, no one knew you were still alive. Do you want to be the chief fool?”
She shook her head violently.
“I don’t even know if I want to be a fool anymore,” she said quietly.
“It’s been a rough year,” I said. “Give it some more time. And don’t quit just yet. I still need your help.”
“For what?”
“I’ll let you know. Keep checking in with me. Good night.”
She slipped away.
The Rooster was a little more lively this night. The new resident, the Pecheneg trader who unknowingly almost experienced Thalia’s charms, was a good-natured fellow with a taste for gambling. The Russians fell upon him like old friends, plied him with drink, and soon invited him to join them in a friendly game of chance.
Simon caught my eye and nodded. I picked up some empty pitchers and joined him at the bar.
“A message for you from Father Esaias,” he said softly.
“What is it?”
“He’d like you to come see him. Nothing urgent, he said, so if you got in late, don’t bother tonight. It can wait until after you finish at Blachernae tomorrow.”
“All right. If he asks, tell him I’ll be there. Any word from my missing partner?”
“I haven’t heard anything.”
“Any further ideas about who killed Asan?”
He refilled the pitchers with ale and handed them back to me.
“One thing I found rather odd,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“After I got rid of the body, I went to tell Esaias. I thought that since Asan was one of his men and it happened in my establishment, it would be prudent if he heard about it from me. But when I got to the church, I found out that he already knew about it.”
“Really? That is interesting. So, you think someone else from here reported it to him before you did.”
“Yes.”
“Probably Stephanos. He works for him.”
“Stephanos didn’t report to Esaias until later. So, he had to have heard about it from somebody else here.”
I didn’t want to tell him Esaias had heard about it from me. Simon would have decided that I had done it. The last thing I needed now was another person after me.
There was a roar and applause from the Russians as the Pecheneg won the first game. The fellow was excited and fairly drunk, and agreed readily when they proposed a rematch. The trap was set.
“Maybe Father Esaias knew because he gave the order to have Asan killed,” I said. “Maybe he found out the lad was running his own games somewhere and not sharing the proceeds.”
“Maybe,” said Simon doubtfully. “Usually, though, when Esaias makes an example out of people, their bodies are found somewhere open to view so the general public can learn from the errors of others.”
“Isn’t it wonderful how a priest will take the time to give moral instruction to his flock?” I asked. “Well, good tapster, I am at a loss to explain it. But I will sleep on it, and if anything occurs to me, then I will share it with you in the morning. And so I bid you a good night.”
“Good night, Feste.”
I went upstairs, barred the door, shuttered the windows more firmly, and had the first uninterrupted sleep I had had in days.
Philoxenites’ matched set of Varangians met me at the Blachernae Gate and diverted me to his office before I could see the Emperor. The eunuch looked displeased, but you might, too, if you were a eunuch.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this other fool?” he asked.
“I didn’t know about her until yesterday,” I said. “The Emperor told me, and I went to look her up.”
“I want to speak with her.”
“Then speak with her,” I said. “But remember that she is the Empress’s fool, and the Empress may not take kindly to interference with her staff.”
“Bring her here later.”
“She doesn’t work for me, you know.”
That brought him up short.
“Isn’t she a Guild fool?” he asked.
“No,” I said honestly. She was just an apprentice, after all. “But she is an ally. I really cannot tell you more just yet. Shall we attend to His Majesty? I do have work to do today.”
He was less than satisfied, but assented.
Alexios was in a good mood. I noticed that the flutist was looking a little worn out, which may have been the reason. A trio of artisans was demonstrating the Emperor’s newest toy, a mechanical music maker that played melodies on a variety of golden chimes, silver cymbals, tuned mahogany blocks, and even some plucked strings on a harp-shaped frame. The whole apparatus was played by the turning of a bronze crank at one end, and the effect was both mystical and merry. The Emperor limped around it with a childlike look of amazement, and was so pleased by the effects caused by turning the crank that he did it over and over again, marveling at the combinations of sounds produced. His enthusiasm was such that the inventors became apprehensive that their creation might not withstand his repeated efforts. No doubt the flutist could sympathize.
“Look, Fool,” he called. “It does the work of a dozen musicians. Is it not magical?”
“Indeed, milord,” I replied. “And I can only thank my foolish stars that it cannot sing and tell stories as well, or I might be out of a job.”
