The Jester

“I was, my lady. Though the doctor has informed me that my direction was slightly askew.”

“So it would seem.” Lady Emilie smiled. This surprised me. I had never met a noble with a very keen sense of humor, unless it was cruel humor. “And on this journey you set out alone. With no food. Or water. Or proper clothes…?”

I felt a lump in my throat-not from nerves but because of what must have seemed my enormous stupidity. “I was in a hurry,” I said.

“A hurry?” Emilie nodded with polite jest. “But it seems, if I recall my mathematics, that no matter how fast you traveled, be it the wrong direction, it would only widen the distance to your goal, no?”

I felt like an idiot in front of this woman who had saved me. I’m sure I blushed. “In a hurry and confused,” I replied.

“I would say.” She widened her eyes. “And the purpose of such haste… and confusion, if you don’t mind…?”

All at once, my being ill at ease shifted. This was not a game, and I was not a toy for amusement, no matter how much I owed her.

Emilie’s expression shifted as well, as if she sensed my unease. “Please know I do not mock you. You cried out in [100] anguish many times during the trip. I know you carry a heavy weight. You may be no knight, but you are surely on a mission.”

I bowed my head. All the lightness of the moment fled from me. How could I speak of such horrors? To this woman who did not know me? My throat went dry. “It is true. I do have a mission, lady. But I ca

“Please tell, sir.” (I couldn’t believe it. She addressed me as “sir.”) “You are troubled. I do not belittle you at all. Perhaps I can help.”

“I am afraid you ca

“You may trust me, sir. How can I prove it more than I already have?”

I smiled. She had me there. “Just know, then, that these are not the tales of a noble, the kind you are no doubt used to hearing.”

“I do not seek entertainment,” she replied, her eyes firmly on mine.

My experience with those highborn had always taught me to beware of their taxes and random killing and total indifference to our plight. But she seemed different. I could see compassion in her eyes. I’d felt it in that first glance as I lay by the road near death.

“I’ll tell it to you, lady. You have earned that. I only hope it does not upset you.”

“I assure you, Hugh,” Lady Emilie said with a smile, “if you have not already noticed, you will find my tolerance for the upsetting to be quite high.”

Chapter 32

SO I TOLD HER. Everything.

Of Sophie, and our village. Of my journey to the Holy Land, the terrible fighting there. Of my moment with the Turk… how I was saved, freed, to come back, to see Sophie again.

Then I told Emilie of the horrible truth that I’d found upon my return.

My voice cracked and my eyes filled with tears as I spoke. It was why I had been wandering the woods like a madman before they had come upon me. Why I had to get to Treille …

All the while, Emilie seemed riveted by my tale, never once interrupting. I knew that much of what I said must have brushed against the fantasies of her upbringing. Yet never once did she react as a spoiled noble. She did not question my desertion from the army, nor take offense at my ire toward Norcross and Baldwin. And when I came to why I so desperately needed to get to Treille, her eyes glistened. “Indeed, I understand, Hugh.”

She leaned forward, placing a hand upon mine. “I see that you have been truly wronged. You must go to Treille and find your wife. But what do you intend to do, go there as one man? Without arms or access to the duke’s circle? Baldwin is well-known here for what he is: a self-serving goat who sucks his own duchy dry. But what will you do, call him out on the field [102] of battle? Challenge him? You will only get yourself tossed in a cell, or killed…”

“You speak like Sophie would have,” I said. “But even if it seems crazy, I have to try. I have no choice in this.”

“Then I will help you, Hugh,” Emilie whispered, “if you let me.”

I looked at her, both confused and overwhelmed by her trust and resolve. “Why do you do this for me? You are highborn yourself. You attend the royal court.”

“I told you the first time, Hugh De Luc. It is your smile that saves you.”

“I think not,” I said, and dared to hold my gaze on her. “You could have left me on the road. My troubles would have died along with me.”

Emilie averted her eyes. “I will tell you, but not now.”

“Yet I have told you everything.”

“This is my price, Hugh. If you’d like to shop around, I can have you delivered back where I found you.”

I bowed my head and smiled. She was fu

“Good,” she said. “So first we must start work on a pretext for you. A way for you to get in. What is it you do well, other than that keen sense of direction I saw?”

I laughed at her barb, sharp as it was. “I am one of those with skills abundant but talents none.”

“We’ll see,” Emilie said. “What did you do in your town before the war?”

“We owned an i

“Like most i

“How would you know such a thing?” I asked.

“No matter. And during the war? From what I’ve seen, you were certainly not a scout.”

[103] “I fought. I learned to fight quite well, actually. But I was told I was always able to keep my friends amused with my stories and their minds off the fighting. In the most worrisome of times, they always requested my tales.” I told her how I had grown up, traveling the countryside, reciting verses and profane songs as a goliard. And how after the war I made my way home entertaining at i

“A jongleur,” Emilie repeated.

“It’s a modest one, but I’ve always had the skill to make new friends.” I smiled, to let her know of whom I was speaking.

Emilie blushed, then stood up. She straightened her dress and produced a demure look. “You must rest now, Hugh De Luc. Nothing can happen until your wounds have healed. In the meantime, I must go.”

A worry shot through me. “Please, lady, I hope I have not offended you.”

“Offended me?” she exclaimed. “Not at all.” She broke into a most wonderful smile. “In fact, your vast talents have given me a splendid idea.”

Chapter 33

THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Emilie knocked on the door of the large bedchamber in the royal couple’s section of the castle. The duchess A

“Yes,” A

The duchess motioned her into the next room, adjacent to the bedroom, where there was a large dressing table, bowls of perfumed water, and a mirror.

A

“He recovers well,” Emilie replied. “And please, he is not my squire. In fact, he is already married and seeks to find his wife.”

“His wife! And that was where he was heading when we found him so neatly trussed in the woods? A curious courtship.” A

“Not quite well,” Emilie cut in.

“But now that he recovers, it is fitting he should be on his way. Anyway, the doctor tells me he has a will to leave.”

“He has suffered great injury, madame, which he seeks to right. The owner of his offense is Baldwin of Treille.”