The Jester

Chapter 149

STEPHEN BOUNDED UP the stone stairs two at a time and onto a parapet, climbing to my level with great speed and agility for such a large man. His eyes burned.

I took my sword and leaped from my ledge to a second-floor balcony of the castle. One of Stephen’s soldiers moved to stop me, and I slashed him across the chest, sending him flying.

The duke hurdled another ledge, racing toward me in a frenzy. He came to face me on the same balcony-ten paces away.

“Your wit has never been in doubt, carrot-head,” he said, leering at me. “Now we’ll see if you have fight.”

He leaped upon me, bringing down his blade. A bone-chilling clang reverberated through my arms as I parried the blow. Stephen pivoted deftly and swung his sword, two handed, at my chest. The blade cut my side.

I buckled, stung with terrible pain.

“Come on, fool,” he taunted, “I thought you had some passion for the fight. You will see there is more to being noble than sticking your dick in a highborn coo. You wanted restitution for your shit-covered wife and son? Come on!”

He struck with his sword again, forcing mine back inches from my neck. His eyes were ablaze; hot breath fumed in my face.

With the last of my strength, I kneed him. Stephen groaned and buckled. I pushed him away and swung my blade, knocking [436] the sword from his hand. His eyes widened as it toppled over the ledge. He stood there, defenseless, yet still glaring.

Then he jumped up onto a ledge overlooking the square. He laughed. “Just know that if I get to her first, she is dead!”

He leaped across to the next balcony. Then he darted inside the castle.

I ran to the edge of the balcony, sca

I ran into the castle, expecting Stephen and a fight to the death. I was in the living quarters. No sign of the bastard anywhere.

“Where are you?” I hollered down the halls. Only echoes answered.

I smashed through a door and into Stephen and A

I looked down at my side. A damp patch of blood was spreading on my tunic. “Stephen,” I yelled. “God damn it, come fight with me.”

His voice came from behind me. “You want me, I am here, jester. Tell me a joke.”

Stephen emerged from a corner smirking, a loaded crossbow aimed at my chest. “I may be a jester short, as you say,” he said, “but you, it seems, are the one who is out of tricks.”

A chill went down my spine. I backed up to the wall. There was nowhere to run.

“What do you say? Our little fool is out of tricks? He dreams of being noble, but he has only fucked one. Shame about the lance, though,” he said with a grin. “Don’t you agree, wife?”

Wife …? A

Chapter 150

ANNE STEPPED into the light, remaining behind Stephen. My legs grew weak. A hollowness was in my gut.

In her hand she held the lance. The holy lance … not the ordinary one I had cast so theatrically into the fire. The lance I had entrusted to her last night! Entrusted.

“I am a fool,” I said, seeking out her eyes. How could Emilie have been so wrong about A

I looked at the crossbow leveled at my chest. And Stephen’s mocking grin. For the first time, I felt ready to die.

“One last word, jester.” Stephen smirked. “Your death is trivial to me, serf. All that mattered was the lance. But what would you do with such a thing, anyway? You could not possibly know the power it holds. I hunted the world for it. By all God’s justice, it is mine.” He tensed his finger on the trigger of the crossbow.

“Then have it, Stephen.” A

Suddenly Stephen lurched and his eyes wrenched open. I stiffened, expecting my guts to fall into my hands. But no arrow came from his crossbow.

I heard the most horrible sound-the splitting of ribs and sinew, the tearing of flesh. An awful gasp came from Stephen’s mouth. But instead of words, a river of blood followed.

[438] A

Then A

Stephen looked down. He stared disbelievingly at the Roman eagle and the bloody tip of the holy lance’s blade protruding from his neck.

Then he fell to the floor.

I stared at A

“I think it’s safe to say,” she said, “that when we pulled you from the ditch that day, such an ending would not have entered our minds.”

“Very safe, madame.”

I heard footsteps from down the hall. Emilie burst into the room, breathless. Our eyes met and my heart nearly exploded with joy. She looked at Stephen crumpled on the floor. Then at A

She gasped. “You are wounded.”

“And you are always nursing me back to health,” I said. “Oh God, Emilie, you ca

“I do know,” she said.

Emilie ran to me and flung herself into my arms. I lifted her off her feet and squeezed her as tightly as I have ever held anything in my life. I kissed her over and over, kisses of hope and gratefulness. For the first time, I actually realized that she was mine.

My eyes were moist as I thought of all that had taken place since I first set out from Veille du Père. All who had died. “I [439] have nothing. Not a denier to my name,” I muttered. “Not even a career. How is it possible that I feel like the richest man in all the world?”

Emilie took my hand and whispered, “Because you are free.”

Chapter 151

THE LANGUEDOCIANS WERE THE FIRST to leave, early the following morning. Ox told me there was a saying in their part of the woods: No sense hanging around the wine cask when the party’s over.

He and his men assembled at the gates at dawn, their horses loaded with sacks of grain, a few pigs, and hens fluttering behind. I went out in the early light to bid them farewell.

“You should stay,” I told him. “A

“More? We are farmers,” Ox said. “What else do we need? If we came back laden with gold chalices, our people would think they were to piss in.”

“In that case…” I patted him on the shoulder and flashed him a glimpse of a plate of gold engraved with Stephen’s crest that I intended to give him as a memento. “No need to leave with this.”

Ox looked around and then tucked it in his saddle pouch. “I guess I’ll have to teach them some proper ma

I embraced him, patting the warrior warmly on his broad back.

“Look us up, jester, if you ever have the urge to return that lance.” He winked. He slapped his horse and signaled his men forward.

[441] I watched until the last of them had disappeared through the city gates. Stephen was being buried later that day. That was one last thing I had to do.

A few of my men were there as the coffin was brought to the cathedral. It was not a service befitting a duke who had died in battle. Only A

The duke’s coffin was carried into a crypt deep inside the castle and placed in a marble sarcophagus. In this dark, narrow space, well below ground, lay the remains of past bishops and members of the ruling family. There was barely enough air to fuel a torch.