Jester Leaps In: A Medieval Mystery

by Alan Gordon

  “What do you say, my friends?” he asked. “Can you duplicate Feste?”

  “That is something that only can be done by the Creator,” one of the inventors said humbly. “We may duplicate music because that is something created by Man.”

  “And yet I am an artificial fool,” I said. “For I am a self-made jester. Surely such minds as yours can reproduce the effort.”

  “It is beyond our capabilities,” said the inventor.

  “Then, Your Majesty, I submit that these fellows are not so clever after all. For a man as stupid and low as I am can still make himself into a fool, yet these geniuses cannot even do that much.”

  “There are many things that cannot be duplicated by machines, and I thank God for it,” commented the Emperor. He looked fondly at the flutist, who managed a weak smile.

  “Now, Feste, I have something to tell you,” continued Alexios.

  “What is it, milord?”

  “Something that will amuse you for a change.”

  “I am always at the service of entertainment.”

  He sat back on his throne, grinning broadly.

  “You’ve been challenged to a duel,” he said.

  SIXTEEN

  That that is is.

  TWELFTH NIGHT, ACT 4, SCENE 2

  Blachernae Palace had its own hippodrome—smaller than the main one, of course, but covered so that the Emperor could have his entertainment no matter what the weather. It only had space for a thousand of his closest friends, along with their army of servants and an actual army to watch over everyone. Horse racing was an oddity there. The oval was not long enough for horses to build up any speed, but the turns were dangerously sharp. I don’t know if horses ever get dizzy, but this would certainly be the place to see it.

  The Imperial Box was kept in constant readiness, for Alexios frequently acted upon his whims. On this occasion, he and Euphrosyne actually sat together, talking as if they hadn’t seen each other for months.

  Word of my trial by ordeal had sped around Blachernae, and all of the immediate family plus assorted cousins piled into the place, along with many of the advisers I had seen before. This was my first glimpse of the three daughters, who sat behind their parents. Anna and Irene chatted happily with their husbands, while Evdokia sat sulkily by and scouted the adjoining seats for marriage prospects.

  The Empress was guarded by her charioteer, who smirked at Stanislaus from across the box as only a man with superior muscles may do. The Captain waved at him cheerfully, but kept scanning the spectators, watching for any suspicious behavior.

  Then there was a brief fanfare, and I was shoved into the middle of the arena. I stumbled as I came in, which took me through a series of irregular somersaults and handsprings until I crashed into the wall just in front of the Emperor and Empress, which sent me backward through a few more. I then stood up, brushed myself off with as much dignity as I could muster, and then bowed.

  Another fanfare, and my challenger zoomed into view, dancing, cartwheeling, flipping, doing all of the tricks I had shown her to perfection, and adding a few of her own invention. Aglaia bowed to the box, and then turned to me and bowed again. I returned the bow as she came up. She saw me bowing, and responded with another, augmented with a series of graceful flourishes of the arms. I saw this, and tried to duplicate it, but my arms got tangled up with each other, and in the process of trying to separate them, my right leg somehow became wrapped up in them until I looked like a human knot.

  Aglaia watched me until I succeeded in restoring my limbs to their proper positions. Where Thalia had been feline in her performances, Aglaia used her shorter height to be more mouselike. Her expressions shifted rapidly and constantly, and where Thalia undulated, Aglaia scampered. She suddenly dashed by me and gave me a good, solid kick in the rear; she was standing safely out of reach before I could even blink.

  I growled at her, becoming the bear to her mouse, and started lumbering after her, grabbing at her clumsily. But she ducked under my arms and darted around me, giving me another swift kick for my reward. We continued in this fashion for a short time; then I stopped, breathing heavily, wiping the sweat from my brow. She stood apart from me and laughed.

  I walked over to my bag and pulled out a club. She stopped laughing and eyed me warily. I pulled my arm back to throw it at her. She motioned for me to stop, then reached into her bag and pulled out two clubs, waving them menacingly at me. I countered by producing two more. She matched with her third, and we each started juggling.

  “How stands the duel so far, milord?” I called to the Emperor.

  “It’s a close match,” he pronounced. “She’s very good.”

  “How say you, milady?” asked Aglaia.

  “I stand by my champion,” declared Euphrosyne. “But this fellow is a talented fool. You work very well together.”

  “There’s a reason for that,” said Aglaia. “Empress, may I present my husband, Feste?”

  “My Lord Emperor, may I present my wife, Aglaia?” I added.

  Alexios looked at Euphrosyne, and they burst into laughter.

  “Did you know about this, my dear?” he roared.

  “Not an inkling,” she said, gasping. “How marvelous!”

  “Now, there are a number of advantages to having a jester for a wife,” I said.

  “And for a husband,” said Aglaia.

  “For one thing, many marriages are undermined because one spouse suspects the other of being a fool,” I said.

  “But in ours, we know it for certain,” said Aglaia. “So, there’s nothing to worry about. And, whenever we have a disagreement . . .”

  “Which we never do,” I interrupted.

  “Yes, we do.”

  “Do not!” I shouted.

  “Whenever we have a disagreement,” she repeated, glaring at me.

  “We never . . .”

  “Or an interruption,” she shouted angrily, “then as fools we may freely do things that are forbidden to normal people.”

  “Like what?” asked the Empress.

  “Like throwing clubs at each other,” she said, and the duet began.

  “And knives,” I added, bringing them into the routine.

  “And swords!”

  “And axes!”

  And the arena was filled with sharp objects flying through the air, and we beamed at each other through it all, husband and wife at last.

  We performed acrobatics, improvised couplets, played our instruments, and entertained for well over two hours. Aglaia was Viola Unbound, the intangible restraints of society along with the very real restraints of Claudius’s costume left behind in the transformation. We filled the space with laughter, and there was no saying where Feste’s contributions left off and Aglaia’s began.

  The principal couple enjoyed themselves royally. We even noticed them holding hands, much to the astonishment, even the consternation, of their family. And I think I even saw Philoxenites chuckle once, which was a triumph as far as I was concerned.

  We finished to great applause, and Alexios was feeling so good that he actually invited Euphrosyne to lunch with him. She accepted happily, and all rose as they left the box.

  “That was quite possibly the most fun I have ever had,” said Aglaia as we packed up.

  “I was thinking as we performed that this is the fourth guise I have seen you use since I’ve known you,” I commented.

  “And?”

  “And I was thinking how lucky I am to have such an ever-changing woman. Most husbands need mistresses for variety.”

  “Mm. Well, I think the plan worked. Everyone knows we’re married and under the joint protection of Euphy and her husband. My virtue should be unassailable, now.”

  “Damn.”

  “Why?”

  “I was hoping to assail it later.”

  She grinned.

  “I have the afternoon off,” she said. “Would you like to see my room?”

  We took a walk afterward. Away from Blachernae, away from intri
gue, away from an Emperor we were trying to protect, away from the desperate scheming around him. We crossed the Lycos, and soon the city noises faded behind us and the lowing of cattle reached us from a nearby farm.

  “This is such a bucolic setting,” commented Aglaia. “Too bad there’s that enormous wall blocking the horizon.”

  There was a low, grassy foothill before us. Beyond it, the meadow gave way to the rise of the Xerolophon and the Pillar of Arkadios surmounting it. I spread my cloak on the grass and stretched out on it, watching the cattle wander about. Aglaia sat next to me.

  “You seem preoccupied,” she observed. “Strange mood for a man after lovemaking.”

  “Preoccupied? How can you tell?”

  “You weren’t checking to see if anyone was following us.”

  I looked back toward the north.

  “Was anyone following us?” I asked.

  “No,” she replied. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Good. Thank you. I’ve been thinking about our situation, but I haven’t come up with anything new. How about you?”

  “Well, there’s one thing,” she said hesitantly. “I don’t think it’s worth much, but Euphy’s been shopping her unmarried daughter around pretty aggressively.”

  “Evdokia wants a husband. It’s nice of her mother to take an active interest.”

  “I was wondering if it could be more than that,” she said. “She wants a qualified male heir for the empire. Maybe if she finds the right man for Evdokia, she will have no further use for Alexios. Maybe that’s the event everyone is waiting for.”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  She lay back and sighed.

  “I don’t think much of the idea, either,” she said. “I also found out that Captain Stanislaus used to be her bodyguard and official statue-whacker.”

  “And occasional bedmate, I suppose.”

  “Definitely.”

  “I wonder if he was Thalia’s lover at the same time, or if that came later.”

  “At the same time, I heard. That’s why Euphy persuaded her husband to take him on. She was angry at Stanislaus. But she threw the Egyptian lass into the deal.”

  “Interesting. It also gave her another set of eyes and ears on her husband, if Stanislaus was reporting back to her. But I’m still not sure what it all means.”

  We lay there quietly for a while, watching clouds.

  Accomplishing nothing.

  “Do you know why we’re not being followed?” I asked irritatedly, sitting up and looking back at Blachernae.

  “Why?”

  “Because whoever is plotting this knows we’re not even close,” I said. “Zintziphitzes was killed because he was a threat. Asan was killed, and I don’t know why. But we’ve been so misdirected that it’s not even worth keeping an eye on us, much less killing us.”

  “I guess from that perspective not being killed is kind of insulting,” she replied.

  “We have somehow been led down the garden path to a wrong tree, which we are now barking up. And I have this feeling that we’re going to be too late.”

  “Don’t say that,” she said, sitting up and putting her arms around me.

  “And it’s more than just this,” I said. “I get the sense that this may be part of some greater plot. Somewhere at the bottom of all this is a threat to the Fools’ Guild. We’ve been operating behind the scenes for centuries without anyone being much the wiser, but our little secret band of manipulators is no longer a secret. First Malvolio infiltrated us; now we’re being cut down one by one here.”

  “Except for Thalia,” she reminded me.

  “Those scars were real, and they weren’t self-inflicted,” I said. “Say what you will about the rest of her story, there’s no question someone stabbed her in the back.”

  “Probably a jealous woman,” muttered Aglaia.

  “Peace, good wife,” I said. “You have nothing to fear on that score. You are far superior to her in every respect.”

  “Including foolery?” she asked.

  I kissed her. “Yes, including that. She can outdo you in tumbling, but that’s about it.”

  We stood up and looked around. Still nobody watching us. All we could see were some cattle herders who had been there before we came, and a group of soldiers guarding some kind of construction activity.

  “Varangians,” I said, catching sight of their colors.

  “Isn’t that Henry?” she said as we walked in that direction.

  “So it is,” I said. “I wonder when he got back.”

  The Englishman hailed us from the top of another hill. The soldiers who we had most recently seen bathing were standing around, watching teams of prisoners linked by chains at their necks. The prisoners were attacking the hill with shovels, heaving the dirt into wagons. When a wagon became full, it was hauled over to a nearby ravine and emptied of its cargo.

  “Hello, Feste,” said Henry, coming over to join us. “What have you there? Looks like a woman under all of that whiteface.”

  “It is indeed, good Henry,” I replied. “Meet Aglaia, my wife and colleague.”

  “Wife!” he exclaimed. “I had no idea you were married.” He doffed his helmet and bowed. She returned the salute. He looked at her closely.

  “I would almost swear that we’ve met before,” he said. “Aglaia’s your name?”

  “It is,” she replied. “But Aglaia has never met Henry, and Henry has never met Aglaia. You must be confusing me with another fool.”

  “That must be it,” I agreed. “So, what brings you back into town so soon? It was just a few days ago that you were rotating out to the Double Column to guard Isaakios.”

  “Ah, they finally decided to stop coddling the old fellow,” he said ruefully. “They’re moving him to the prison at the Anemas Garrison tomorrow so they can keep a closer eye on a blind man. Since it’s in Blachernae, it falls under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Guard. I tell you, it’s no way to treat an emperor, deposed or not.”

  “It certainly isn’t,” I agreed.

  “So, instead of cushy, meaningless guard duty at the Double Column, we get to stand around in the heat and watch these prisoners work.”

  “And what exactly is it that they are doing?” asked Aglaia.

  “Well, milady,” he said, scratching his head. “What they are doing is digging up this hill, the one we are standing upon, and taking the dirt, and dumping it into that ravine.”

  “I see,” she said. “Thank you for that explanation.”

  “Oh, that’s not an explanation,” he said. “That’s just what they’re doing. What you wish to know is why they are doing it.”

  “Not every fool is in whiteface, I see,” she said, smiling.

  “What comes of hanging around you lot,” he said, smiling back. “Well, one fine day, as it was told to me, the Emperor was riding back from a hunt, and passed by this very spot.”

  “Oh, happy spot, to be passed by such an Emperor,” I said.

  “It was not a happy day for the spot, as it turned out,” continued Henry. “He had had a bad hunt, and was in a foul mood. His eye fell upon that ravine over there. He said, ‘I do not like that ravine.’ He then saw this hill.”

  “The one we are standing upon,” said Aglaia.

  “Indeed, milady. And he said, ‘I do not like that hill much, either.’ And then, being the all-powerful monarch that he is, he gives an order to have the hill leveled, and the dirt used to fill in that ravine, thus killing two birds with one stone.”

  “Thus does tyranny make the world flat,” I said. “And you get to stand around and watch it happen. Fortunate old you.”

  He spat.

  “It’s ridiculous,” he said softly. “There are walls to rebuild, ships to construct, troops to train. The empire is falling apart, and he has us doing this. Do you know why? Because when it’s done, he’s going to have more vineyards put in, because the imperial imbibing requires more wine than there is in all of Byzantium. I tell you, the old Emperor wouldn’t hav
e treated us like this. But that’s why Alexios does, because the Varangians were Isaakios’s favorites.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said.

  “So, how is it with you? Last I saw, you were getting ready to play the Hippodrome.”

  “I did well. The Emperor liked me so much that I am now a regular visitor at Blachernae.”

  “What happened to Claudius?”

  “Vanished. I suppose he got tired of being treated like a servant.”

  “Hm,” he said. He glanced at Aglaia for a moment, then shook his head. “Say, did you happen to see who won the guards’ footrace?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did. Sorry, it wasn’t a Varangian. An Imperial Guard named Lasparas.”

  “I knew it!” he crowed. He turned and shouted up the hill. “Hey, Cnut! Come down here. You owe me money, boy!”

  Cnut came strolling down the hill.

  “What for?” he said.

  “Lasparas won the footrace at the Hippodrome.”

  Cnut’s face fell, and he dug into his pouch and threw a coin to Henry.

  “I can’t believe I keep losing like this,” he said. “I’m going to have to give up betting at this rate.”

  “It might be a sound policy,” I agreed. “How long has it been since you’ve won one?”

  “Must have been nearly a year ago,” he said.

  “Right,” agreed Henry. “When Simon won that footrace on the Mese.”

  “Simon used to race?” I said. “I never would have guessed.”

  “Like the wind,” said Henry. “We used to bet on him regularly. Well, a pleasure to see you both. I’d invite you to perform at the baths again, but seeing as you have a lady partner now . . . unless she could do the act blindfolded.”

  “I’ll have to practice that for a while,” said Aglaia. “Well met, good Henry.”

  We walked off.

  “Good thing I’m wearing whiteface,” she commented. “I swear I was blushing underneath.” She stopped and looked at me. “What is it?”

  I grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “When I told you Simon was a Templar, you said something was odd about that. What was it?”

  She thought back.

  “I was almost asleep,” she remembered. “But I remember you saying that, and I said you wouldn’t expect to see a Templar here.”