The Jester

Chapter 128

WE CAME OUT OF THE FOREST the next day facing a river. A truly terrifying sight stood before us.

On the high ground, directly in our path, waited an ominous horde of warriors. Maybe three hundred of them.

They wore no colors, just rough skins and high boots, swords and shields gleaming in the noonday sun. They were long-haired and filthy, and regarded us with no particular alarm. They looked ready for a fight.

Panic shot through our troops, and through me as well. The ferocious-looking horde just stood there, watching us assemble out of the trees. As though battle were an ordinary thing for them.

Horns blew. Horses whi

I ordered our column to a halt. The rabble ahead of us looked restless. Shit, had I led us into a trap?

Odo and Daniel ran up to me. I had never seen Odo this scared.

“They growl like Saxons,” Odo muttered. “These ugly bastards are meaner than shit. I heard they live in caves and when food is scarce, they eat their young.”

“They are not Saxon.” Daniel shook his head. “They are [376] from Languedoc. From the south. Mountain men. But they are known to eat their young even when the harvest is good.”

His depiction gave me chills. “Are they from Stephen?” I asked.

“Could be.” He shrugged. We watched them watching us, showing no concern about our larger ranks. “Mercenaries. He has used them before.”

“Have the men fan along the ravine,” I said. I hoped to make a show of strength. This threat had come upon us so suddenly. “Lances to the front in case they charge.”

“Keep the horses in reserve,” Daniel said. “If these bastards come at us, they’ll do so on foot. To a Languedocian, it’s a sign of cowardice not to.”

Everyone rushed into formation. Then we stood there, hearts tense, holding our shields. The field was silent.

“Seems a good enough day to meet my maker.” Odo strapped on his mallet. “If you’re still listening, God.”

All of a sudden, there was movement in the Languedocian camp. Get ready. I gripped my lance.

Then two riders rode out from the pack and galloped toward us.

“They wish to talk,” Daniel said.

“I’ll go,” I said. “Here.” I turned to Odo. “Hold the lance.”

“I’ll go with you,” Daniel said.

Daniel and I rode out between the armies. The two Languedocians sat there indifferently, eyeing us as we came up to them. One was large and stout, built like an ox. The other was leaner but just as mean looking. For a moment, no one spoke. We just regarded one another, circling.

Finally, the ox grunted a few words in a French I could barely make out. “You are the jester Hugh? The one with the lance?”

“I am,” I replied.

“You’re the little fart who has led the peasants and bondmen against their lords?” the other growled.

[377] “We’ve risen up in the face of murder and oppression,” I replied.

Ox snickered. “You don’t look so big. We were told you were eight fucking feet tall.”

“If we have to fight, it will seem that,” I said.

The Languedocians looked me up and down in a way I could not read. Then they looked at each other and started to laugh. “Fight you?” The big one chortled. “We’ve come to join you, fool. Word reached us you intend to march on Treille. We are sworn enemies of that prick Baldwin. We’ve been enemies of Treille for two hundred years.”

I looked at Daniel and we broke into grins. “This is good news… but you’re too late. Treille is already taken. We are marching on Borée.”

“Borée?” the thi

I nodded. “The same.”

For a moment, the two Languedocians drew their horses close and huddled together. I could hardly understand the tongue they were speaking in. Then Ox looked back to me and shrugged. “All right, we march on Borée.”

He raised his sword to his ranks and they erupted-lifting their swords and spears in a riotous cheer.

“You’re lucky.” Ox gri

Chapter 129

STEPHEN WAS IN his dressing room when A

At the sight of A

“Oh, do not bother, A

The lady smoothed her ruffled tresses, curtsied, then scurried out of the room.

“These are my private quarters, not your parlor,” Stephen said, hitching himself up. “And do not feign offense, dear wife, since you obviously knew what business you would find here.”

“I do not feign offense.” A

“So.” Stephen rose. “By all means, let me know. What’s the big surprise?”

“A ru

“This is the news you thought would disarm me?” Stephen seemed to yawn, taking another deep bite from his apple. “That this poor fool marches on us? Why should this mean any more [379] to me than a bite of this fruit, I say? But come,” he said, eyeing the bulge in his hose, “as long as the table is set, why not put the little weasel to some work?”

A

“What?” Stephen twisted around. He screwed up his face in disbelief.

“Oh, has the weasel crept back in his little cave?” A

Stephen jumped out of his seat, hot with rage. “Impossible! They damn their souls to follow him.”

“No, husband, it is your soul that is damned.”

“Get out of my way.” Stephen shot out his hand. It slashed across A

“If you harm her, Stephen…” A

Stephen burned his gaze right through her. He moved as if to strike again. She did not flinch. Then the color came back into his face, and he softened and knelt, cupping her quivering face in the palm of his hand.

“Why would I want to hurt her, my precious wife? She is a part of you.” He raised himself, smoothing his tunic, the veins in his forehead now calm. “I have merely detained her for her own protection. There are dangerous conspirators about who plan us harm, even within these very walls. Haven’t you heard?”