Fool Chapter 8

EIGHTA WIND FROM FUCKING FRANCEhunter was right, of course, he wasnt able to feed Lears carry. We imposed on vill shape ups along the elbow room for f atomic number 18 and quarter, exclusively north of Leeds the villages had suffered bad harvests and they could not bear our appetites without ravenous themselves. I assay to foster good cheer among the knights, while charge distance from Lear I had not forgiven the old man for disowning my Cordelia and move away Drool. Secretly I relished the soldiers complaints about their lack of comfort, and made no real effort to dampen their rising resent workforcet for the old mogul.On the fifteenth day of our march, outside of Lint-upon-Tweed, they ate my dollar.Rose, Rose, Rose would a horse by any other name taste so confection? the knights chanted. They thought themselves clever, slinging such jests while spraying roasted bits of my mise en scene from their greasy lips.The dull always seek to be clever at the signs expense, to s omehow repay him for his cutting wit, nevertheless neer are they clever, and lots are they cruel. Which is wherefore I may never own things, never care for anyone, nor show desire for anything, lest some ruffian, thin king he is funny, agree it away. I nominate secret desires, indigences, and dreams, though. Jones is a fine foil, but I should handle someday to own a monkey. I would dress him in a tiny jesters suit, of red silk, I think. I would c only him Jeff, and he would have his own scepter, that would be retrieveed Tiny Jeff. Yes, I should very a good deal resembling a monkey. He would be my friend and it would be nix to murder, banish, or eat him. Foolish dreams?We were met at the gate of Castle capital of New York by Gonerils stewarfared, adviser, and chief toady, that most pernicious twat, Oswald. Id had dealings with the rodent-faced muck-sucker when he was but a footman at the discolour Tower, when Goneril was still princess at court, and I, a sink jongleur, was found wandering naked amid her royal orbs. But that tale is topper left for another(prenominal) time, the scoundrel at the gate impedes our progress.Spidery in appearance as well as disposition, Oswald lurks even when in the open, lurking beingness his natural state of locomotion. A fine black fuzz he wears for a beard, the same is on his head, when his blue tartan tam is disordered at his heart, which it was not that day. He neither removed his hat nor bandy-legged as Lear approached.The old king was not pleased. He stopped the train an arrow-shot from the castle and waved me forward.Pocket, go see what he wants, give tongue to Lear. And bespeak why there is no fanfare for my arrival.But nuncle,24 utter I. Shouldnt the captain of the follow be the one Go on, fool A point is to be made about respect. I send a fool to view this rascal and put him in his place. Spare no manners, remind the go after that he is a dog.Aye, majesty. I rolled my eyes at victor Curan, who al most laughed, then stopped himself, seeing that the kings temper was real.I pulled Jones from my satchel and sallied forth, my call forth batch, as determined as the prow of a warship.Hail, Castle capital of New York, I called. Hail, Albany. Hail, Goneril.Oswald verbalise nothing, did not so much as remove his hat. He looked ancient me to the king, even when I was standing an arms length from him.I state baron of crashing(a) Britain here, Oswald. Id suggest you pay proper respect.Ill not set about myself to speak with a fool.Primping little whoreson wanker, innit he? state the puppet Jones.Aye, said I. Then I spotted a confine in the barbican, looking experience on us. Hail, Capn, seems someones emptied a privy on your drawbridge and the steaming pile blocks our way.The guard laughed. Oswald fumed.M lumberjacky has instructed me to instruct you that her fathers knights are not incur in the castle.That so? Shes actually talking to you, then?Ill not have an exc go downe wi th an impudent fool.Hes not impudent, said Jones. With proper inspiration, the lad sports a woody as stout as a tying up pin. Ask your lady.I nodded in agreement with the puppet, for he is most discerning for having a brain of sawdust.Impudent Impudent Not impotent Oswald effervescing a bit now.Oh, well, why didnt you assure so, said Jones. Yes, hes that.To be sure, said I.Aye, said Jones.Aye, said I.The kings rabble shall not be permitted in the castle.Aye. That so, Oswald? I r for each oneed up and patted his cheek. You should have ordered trumpets and rose petals scattered on our path. I turned and waved the advance to the train, Curan spurred his horse and the column galloped forward. Now tucker out impinge on the bridge or be trampled, you rat-faced little twat.I strode past Oswald into the castle, pumping Jones in the air as if I was leading cadence for war drummers. I think I should have been a diplomat.As Lear rode by he clouted Oswald on the head with his sheathed swor d, knocking the unctuous custodian into the moat. I felt my anger for the old man slip a notch.Kent, his disguise now completed by nearly three weeks of famish and living in the outdoors, fell in behind the train as I had instructed. He looked lean and leathery now, to a greater extent like an senior(a) version of Hunter than the old, overfed knight he had been at the White Tower. I stood to the side of the gate as the column entered and nodded to him as he passed.Im hungry, Pocket. all(prenominal) I had to eat yesterday was an owl.Perfect fare for siren finding, methinks. Youre with me to Great Birnam Wood tonight, then?After supper.Aye. If Goneril doesnt poison the lot of us.Ah, Goneril, Goneril, Goneril like a distant love chant is her name. Not that it doesnt summon memories of impetuous urination and putrid discharge, but what romance worth the memory is costless of the bittersweet?When I first met her, Goneril was but seventeen, and although betrothed to Albany from th e age of twelve, she had never seen him. A curious, round-bottomed girl, she had spent her entire life in and around the White Tower, and shed developed a colossal appetite for acquaintance of the outside world, which somehow she thought she could sate by grilling a humble fool. It started on odd afternoons, when she would call me to her chambers, and with her ladies-in-waiting in attendance, ask me all manner of questions her tutors had refused to answer.Lady, said I, I am but a fool. Shouldnt you ask someone with position?Mother is dead and Father treats us like porcelain dolls. Everyone else is afraid to speak. You are my fool, it is your duty to speak truth to power.Impeccable logic, lady, but truth be told, Im here as fool to the little princess. I was new to the castle, and did not want to be held accountable for telling Goneril something that the king didnt wish her to know.Well, Cordelia is having her nap, so until she wakes you are my fool. I so decree it.The ladies clappe d at the royal decree.Again, irrefutable logic, said I to the thick but beauteous princess. Proceed.Pocket, you have traveled the land, tell me, what is it like to be a idyll?Well, milady, Ive never been a peasant, strictly speaking, but for the most part, Im told its wake early, plow hard, suffer hunger, catch the elicit, and die. Then get up the next sunup and do it all again.Every day?Well, if youre a Christian on Sunday you get up early, go to church, suffer hunger until you have a big meal of barley and s go forth, then catch the plague and die.Hunger? Is that why they seem so wretched and unhappy?That would be one of the reasons. But theres much to be said for hard work, disease, mine run suffering, and the odd witch burning or virgin sacrifice, depending on your faith.If they are hungry, why dont they just eat something?That is an excellent idea, milady. Someone should suggest that.Oh, I shall make a most excellent duchess, I think. The people will praise me for my wisd om.Most certainly, milady, said I. Your father married his sister, then, did he, love? area no, mother was a Belgian princess, why do you ask?Heraldry is my hobby, go on.Once we were inside the main curtain wall25 of Castle Albany, it was clear that we would go no farther. The main keep of the castle stood behind yet another curtain wall and had its own drawbridge, over a dry impinge rather than a moat. The bridge was lowering even as the king approached. Goneril walked out on the drawbridge unaccompanied, wearing a gown of parkland velvet, laced a bit too tightly. If the intent was to lessen the develop of her bosom it failed miserably, and brought gasps and guffaws from several of the knights until Curan raised his hand for silence.Father, welcome to Albany, said Goneril. All hail good king and loving father.She held out her arms and the anger drained from Lears face. He climbed down from his horse. I s dwellered to the kings side and steadied him. chieftain Curan signaled and the rest of the train dismounted.As I straightened Lears cape about his shoulders, I caught Gonerils eye. Missed you, pumpkin.Knave, said she under her breath.She was always the most fair of the three, I said to Lear. And certainly the most wise.My lord means to accidentally hang your fool, Father.Ah, well, if accident, theres no fault but Fate, said I with a smile pert and nimble spirit of mirth that I am. But call then for a spanking of Fates fickle bottom and hit it good, lady. I winked and smacked the horses rump.Wits arrow hit and Goneril blushed. Ill see you hit, you wicked little dog.Enough of that, said Lear. Leave the boy alone. Come give your father a hug.Jones barked sky-high and chanted, A fool moldiness hit it. A fool must hit it, hit it good. The puppet knows a ladys weakness.Father, said she, Im afraid weve adaptation only for you in the castle. Your knights and others will have to make do in the outer bailey.26 Weve quarters and food for them by the stables.But wh at about my fool?Your fool can sleep in the stable with the rest of the rabble.So be it. Lear let his eldest lead him into the castle like a milk cow by the nose ring.She truly loathes you, doesnt she? said Kent. He was busy wrapping himself around a pork shoulder the sizing of a toddler his Welsh accent actually sounding more natural through the grease and gristle than when clear.Not to worry, lad, said Curan, who had fall in us by our fire. Well not let Albany hang you. entrust we, lads?Soldiers all around us cheered, not sure what they were cheering for, beyond the fact that they were enjoying the first full meal with ale that theyd had since leaving the White Tower. A small village was housed inside the bailey and some of the knights were already wandering off in search of an alehouse and a whore. We were outside the castle, but at least(prenominal) we were out of the wind, and we could sleep in the stables, which the pages and squires had mucked out on our arrival.But if we re not welcome in the great hall, then they are not welcome to the talents of the kings fool, said Curan. Sing us a song, Pocket.A cheer went up around the camp Sing Sing SingKent raised an eyebrow. Go ahead, lad, your witches will wait.I am what I am. I drained my flagon of ale, set it by the fire, then whistled loudly, jumped up, did three somersaults and laid out into a backward-flip, wherefrom I landed with Jones pointed at the moon, and said, A ballad, then?Aye came the cheer.And ever so sweetly, I crooned the lilting love song Shall I Shag My Lady Upon the shire horse? I followed that with a bit of a narrative song by way of a troubadour tradition The Hanging of Willie Wagging William. Well, everyone likes a point after supper, and by the one-eyed balls of the Cyclops, that one got them clapping, so I slowed it down a bit with the solemn ballad, Dragon Spooge Befouled My sightly Bonny Lass. Bloody inconsiderate to leave a train of fighting men fighting back tears, so I danc ed my way around the camp while singing the shanty Alehouse Lilly (Shell Bonk You Silly).I was about to say good night and head out when Curan called for silence and a road-worn herald wearing a great golden fleur-delis on his chest entered the camp. He unrolled his scroll and read.Hear ye, hear ye. Let it be known that King Philip the Twenty-seventh of France is dead. God rest his soul. Long stand up France. Long live the kingNo one long lived the king back at him and he seemed disappointed. Although one knight did murmur So? and another, Good bloody riddance.Well, you British pig dogs, Prince Jeff is now king, said the herald.We all looked at each other and shrugged.And Princess Cordelia of Britain is now Queen of France, the herald added, rather huffy now.Oh, said many, realizing at last at least a glancing relevance.Jeff? said I. The bloody frog prince is called Jeff? I strode to the herald and snatched the scroll out of his hand. He tried to take it back and I clouted him wit h Jones.Calm, lad, said Kent, pickings the scroll from me and handing it back to the herald. Merci, said he to the messenger.He took my bloody princess and my monkeys name said I, taking another swing with Jones, which missed its mark as Kent was dragging me away.You should be pleased, said Kent. Your lady is the Queen of France.And dont think shes not going to draw my nose in that when I see her.Come, lad, lets go find your witches. Well want to be back by morning in time for Albany to accidentally hang you.Oh, shed like that, wouldnt she?