Royal Assassin - Страница 29

I tapped at Patience’s door and was admitted. I saw that Lacey had gone on one of her periodic rampages and restored a sort of order to the room. There was even a cleared chair to sit upon. They were both glad to see me. I told them of my trip to Bearns, avoiding any mention of Virago. I knew that eventually Patience would hear of it, and confront me about it, and I would then assure her that gossip had greatly exaggerated our encounter. I hoped that would work. In the meantime I had brought gifts back with me. Tiny ivory fish, drilled to be strung as beads or attached to a garment for Lacey, and for Patience amber-and-silver earrings. An earthenware pot of wintergreen berries preserved and sealed with a lid of wax.

“Wintergreen? I’ve no taste for wintergreen,” Patience puzzled when I offered it to her.

“Haven’t you?” I feigned puzzlement as well. “I thought you told me it was a flavor and scent you missed from your childhood. Did not you have an uncle who brought you wintergreen?”

“No. I recall no such conversation.”

“Perhaps it was Lacey, then?” I asked sincerely.

“Not I, master. Stings my nose to taste it, though it has a nice scent in the air.”

“Ah, well, then. My mistake.” I set it aside on the table.

“What, Snowflake? Not pregnant again?” This I addressed to Patience’s white terrier who had finally decided to come forth and sniff at me. I could sense her doggy little mind puzzling over Cub’s scent on me.

“No, she’s just getting fat,” Lacey interjected for her, stooping to scratch her behind the ears. “My lady leaves sweetmeats and cookies about on plates, and Snowflake is always getting at them.”

“You know you shouldn’t let her. It’s very bad for her teeth and coat,” I rebuked Patience, and she replied that she knew it, but Snowflake was too old to be taught better. The conversation rambled from there, and it was another hour before I stretched and told them I must be going, to try once more to report to the King.

“I was earlier turned aside from his door,” I mentioned. “Though not by any guard. His man Wallace came to the door when I knocked, to refuse me entry. When I asked why there was no guard on the King’s door, he said they had been relieved of that duty. He had assumed it himself, the better to keep things quiet for the King.”

“The King’s not well, you know,” Lacey offered. “I’ve heard that he’s seldom seen out of his chambers before noon. Then, when he comes forth, he is like a man possessed, full of energy and appetite, but by early evening, he fades again, and begins to shuffle and mumble his words. He takes his dinner in his rooms, and cook says the tray comes back as full as it went up. It’s quite a worry.”

“It is,” I agreed, and made my departure, almost dreading to hear more. So the King’s health was now talk for the Keep. That was not good. I must ask Chade about it. And I must see for myself. In my earlier attempt to report to the King, I had encountered only the officious Wallace. Wallace had been most brusque with me, as if I were come simply to pass the time of day, rather than to report after a mission. He behaved as if the King were the most delicate of invalids and took it upon himself to keep anyone from bothering him. Wallace, I decided, had not been very well taught as to what the duties of his position were. He was a most annoying man. As I talked I was wondering how long it would take Molly to find the wintergreen. She must know I had meant it for her; it was a taste she had always been greedy for when we were children.

Wallace came to the door and opened it a crack to peer out. He frowned at discovering me. He swung the door wider, but filled the opening with his body, as if my glimpsing the King might do him harm. He gave me no greeting, only demanded, “Did not you come before, earlier today?”

“Yes. I did. At that time you told me King Shrewd slept. And so I have come again, to make my report.” I tried to keep my tone civil.

“Ah. It is important, this report?”

“I think the King can judge if it is, and send me away if he thinks I waste his time. I suggest you tell him I am here.” I smiled belatedly, trying to soften the sharpness of my tone.

“The King has little energy. I try to see that he expends it only where it is needed.” He wasn’t moving from the door. I found myself sizing him up, wondering if I could just shoulder past him. That would create a commotion, and if the King were ill, I did not wish that. Someone tapped on my shoulder, but when I turned to look, no one was there. Turning back, I found the Fool in front of me, between Wallace and me.

“Are you his physician, then, to make such judgments?” The Fool took up my conversation for me. “For surely, you would be an excellent one. You physick me merely with your looks, and your words dispel your wind as well as mine. How physicked then must our dear King be, who languishes all day in your presence?”

The Fool bore a tray covered with a napkin. I smelled good beef broth and egg bread warm from the oven. His winter motley of black and white he had made merry with enameled bells and a garland of holly banded his cap. His fool’s scepter was tucked up under his arm. A rat again. This one had been set atop the wand as if prancing. I had observed him holding long conversations with it in front of the Great Hearth, or on the steps before the King’s throne.

“Begone, Fool! You’ve been in here twice today already. The King has already gone to his bed. He has no need of you.” The man spoke sternly. But Wallace was the one who retreated, without intending to. I saw he was one of those people who could not meet the Fool’s pale eyes, and quailed from the touch of his white hand.

“Twice shall be thrice, Wall Ass, dear, and your presence replaced with my presents. Toddle off hence, and tell Regal all your tattling. If walls have ears, then so must you, for you’ve already the Wall’s Ass. Such ears are filled to overflowing with the King’s business. You might physick our dear prince while you enlighten him. For the darkness of his glance, methinks, betokens that his bowels have backed up so far as to blind him.”

“Dare you speak so of the Prince?” Wallace sputtered. The Fool was already inside the door and I on his heels. “He shall hear of this.”

“Speak so? Speak, sow. I doubt not that he hears all that you do. Do not vent your wind at me, Wall Ass dear. Save that for your prince, who delights in such puffing. He is at his smokes now, I believe, and you might gust at him and he shall drowse and nod and think you speak wisely and your airs most sweet.”

The Fool continued his advance as he nattered on, the laden tray like a shield before him. Wallace gave ground readily, and the Fool forced him back, through the sitting room and into the King’s bedchamber. There the Fool set the tray down at the King’s bedside while Wallace retreated to the other door of the chamber. The Fool’s eyes grew brighter.

“Ah, not abed at all, our King, unless you’ve hidden him under coverlets, Wall Ass, my sweet. Come out, come out, my King, my Shrewd one. King Shrewd you are, not king of shrews to hide and creep about the walls and under the bedding.” The Fool began to poke so assiduously among the obviously empty bed and coverlets, and to send his rat scepter peeping up among the bed curtains, that I could not contain my laughter.

Wallace leaned back against the inner door, as if to guard it from us, but at that instant it opened from within, and he all but tumbled into the King’s arms. He sat down heavily on the floor. “Mind him!” the Fool observed to me. “See how he seeks to put himself in my place before the King’s feet, and to play the fool with his clumsy pratfalls. Such a man deserves the title Fool, but not the post!”

Shrewd stood there, robed as for rest, a frown of vexation on his face. He looked down in puzzlement at Wallace on the floor, and up at the Fool and me waiting for him, and then dismissed whatever the situation was. He spoke to Wallace as he scrabbled to his feet. “This steam does me no good at all, Wallace. It but makes my head ache all the more, and leaves a foul taste in my mouth as well. Take it away, and tell Regal I think his new herb might drive flies away, but not sickness. Take it away now, before it stinks up this room as well. Ah, Fool, you are here. And Fitz, you have finally come to report as well. Come in, sit down. Wallace, do you hear me? Remove that wretched pot! No, do not bring it through here, take it out the other way.” And with a wave of his hand, Shrewd swatted the man away as if he had been an annoying fly.

Shrewd shut the door to his bathing room firmly, as if to keep the stink from spreading into his bedchamber, and came to take a straight-backed chair by the fire. In a moment the Fool had drawn a table up beside it, the cloth covering the food had become a tablecloth, and he had set out food for the King as prettily as any serving maid could have done. Silverware and a napkin appeared, a sleight of hand that had even Shrewd smiling, and then the Fool folded himself up on the hearth, knees nearly to his ears, chin cupped in his long-fingered hands, pale skin and hair picking up red tones from the fire’s dancing flames. His every move was as graceful as a dancer’s and the pose he struck now was artful as well as comical. The King reached down to smooth his flying hair as if the Fool were a kitten.

“I told you I was not hungry, Fool.”

“That you did. But you did not tell me not to bring food.”

“And if I had?”

“Then I should tell you this is not food, but a steaming pot such as Wall Ass afflicts you with, to fill your nostrils with a scent at least more pleasing than his. And this be not bread, but a plaster for your tongue, which you should apply at once.”