The Jester

[246] “On the contrary, I have much to take issue with you,” Emilie said.

“Take issue, child… No doubt this, as all things, concerns your protégé, the fool.”

“You are right, madame, he is a fool. But only to have trusted you. As am I.”

“So, this is no longer about him, I see. But you and me…”

“You have wronged him in a great way, my lady, and by doing so, wronged me.”

“Wronged you?” A

Emilie stared, aghast. “I am hearing your voice, lady,” she said, “but the words do not seem as if they could come from you. What has become of the woman who was like a mother to me? Where is the A

“Go away, child. Please go. Do not lecture me on things you do not know.”

“I know this. Your men raided his village. They killed his son, stole and imprisoned his wife. She is dead now. In your prison. You knew.”

“How would I know?” A

“These deeds, lady.” Emilie met her eyes. “They are now imprinted on you.”

“Go.” A

[247] “You sought Hugh?” Emilie blinked. “For God’s sake-why?”

“Because the fool holds the greatest prize in Christendom, and he does not know it.”

“What prize? He has nothing. You have taken everything from him.”

“Just go.” A

There was a large red welt. And much worse.

“What is that?” Emilie moved forward.

“Stay away,” A

“Please, my lady, do not turn from me. What is the bruise on your face?”

A

Emilie let out a gasp. She rushed over and, against A

“You should know it, child, for it is the very truth that you claim to know so well. A woman’s truth.”

Emilie recoiled in horror. The side of A

Chapter 82

THE FIRST THING I DID was go up to the hill overlooking town where my infant son, Phillipe, lay buried.

I knelt by his grave and crossed myself. “Your mother spoke of you in her last breath.” There I sat, on the hard earth. “Dear, sweet Phillipe.”

I still did not know what these sons of bitches wanted with me. What they thought I possessed, which clearly I didn’t. Why my wife and son had to die.

I dug up the objects I had brought back from the Crusade and spilled them onto the grass.

The gilded perfume box I had bought for Sophie in Constantinople… How sure I had been that I would bring it back to her with pride. Just thinking of all that had happened-Nico, Robert, Sophie-I felt my eyes fill up.

I looked at the inlaid scabbard with the writing I had found crossing the mountains. Then the gold cross I had taken from the church. Were these the treasures? The things that cursed me? If I gave them back, would they leave me, and the town, alone?

A wave of anger swept over me, mixed with grief and tears. “Which are you?” I screamed at the pieces. “Which is the thing that caused my wife and son to die?”

[249] I picked up the cross and went to hurl it into the trees. Trinkets! Baubles! None of it worth the lives of my wife and son!

Then I held back, remembering Sophie’s last words: “Don’t give them what they want.”

Don’t give them what, Sophie? Don’t give them what?

I sat by my Phillipe’s grave and cried, my fingers digging into my scalp. “Don’t give them what?” I whispered over and over again.

Finally, I pulled myself up, spent and exhausted. I gathered the things and laid them in the hole, replacing the displaced earth. I took a deep breath and said good-bye.

Don’t give them what they want.

All right, Sophie. I won’t.

Because I don’t know what in God’s name it could be.

Chapter 83

SUMMER GAVE WAY to autumn, and bit by bit, I fell back into the life of the village.

Rebuilding.

I picked up the work Matthew had begun on the i

Piece by piece, the town came back to life. Farmers prepared for the harvest. Crumbled homes were patched together with mortar and stone. Harvest time would bring travelers to market; travelers meant money. Money bought food and clothes. People began to laugh once more, and to look forward.

And I became a bit of a hero in town. In no time at all, my stories of how I had dazzled the court at Treille and fought the knight Norcross became part of the local lore. Children clung to my side. “Show us a flip, Hugh. And how you got out of the chains.” I amused them with my tricks, removed beads or stones from their ears, told stories of the war. I felt my soul being restored by the sound of their laughter. Yes, laughter truly heals. This was the great lesson I’d learned as a jester.

And I mourned my sweet Sophie. Each day before sunset, I climbed the knoll outside town and sat at my son’s grave. [251] I spoke to Sophie as if she rested there too. I told her of the progress on the i

And sometimes I spoke to her of Emilie. What a gift it had been to have her as a friend. How she saw something special in me as no other noble had, from that very first day. I recounted the times she had saved me. How I would have been a lifeless mound had she not come upon me after my fight with the boar.

Each time I talked of Emilie, I could not fail to notice the flame that stirred in my blood. I found myself thinking of our kiss. I did not know if it was meant to bring back my wits in a frantic moment or just as the last good-bye of a true friend. What had she seen in me to risk so much? A specialness … a specialness, Sophie! Sometimes I even felt myself blush.

One such afternoon as I was heading back to town from the gravesite, Odo ran up the path toward me. “Quick, Hugh, you can’t go back there now. You have to hide!”

I gazed beyond him. Four riders were approaching over the stone bridge. One an official, colorfully robed and wearing a plumed hat. The other soldiers, wearing the purple and white of Treille.

My heart stood still.

“It’s Baldwin ’s bailiff,” Odo said. “If he sees you here, we will all be dead.”

I ducked behind a copse of trees, my mind flashing through options. Odo was right; I could not go back there. But what if someone gave me up? It would not be enough just to run. The town would be held accountable.

“Bring me a sword,” I said to Odo.

“A sword? Do you see those soldiers, Hugh? You must go. Run as if a beggar had your purse.”