The Jester: Brothers (2)
Episode 4: Clowning Around
Late the following afternoon, Mardans stood across the street from a small stationery shop, Palace Pens & Parchment, a mere quarter-mile from his mother’s house. For a specialty shop, it did a brisk business, as he had seen while watching it from the shade of a flowering crepe myrtle tree. While scoping it out, he noticed that most of its patrons were wealthy women and maidservants who shopped for wealthy women. Men, especially young men, were decidedly rare customers.
Despite the late-summer heat, he wore a duster with the collar up and a hat pulled low over his forehead. At the appointed time, when he could see no one around to watch him, he crossed the street and made a quick entry. A quick glance around while removing his hat showed no one else in the shop except the clerk.
His instructions from the king told him to select a white goose-feather quill and hand it to the clerk, asking, “How much for a dozen of these?” The clerk would tell him what to do from there. He spotted the quills immediately and followed the protocol. The clerk, a short, round man with a dark mustache and no other hair to speak of, nodded, saying, “Very good, sir. This way, please.”
He led Mardans through a door behind his counter and across a small back office and storeroom. They stopped at another door, which he opened with a small brass key he produced from a pocket of his purple-and-gray striped vest. In a low voice, he said, “Just follow this hall until you come to some steps. It’s not far. At their top is a door with a knocker. Do not use the knocker. Knock twice on the wood of the door. Someone will open it for you from the other side. He will lead you where you need to go.”
Mardans thanked him and stepped down the hall, shedding his duster along the way. Mounting the steps, he rapped twice on the wooden door, which drew open almost immediately. Alfons’ beefy retainer from the night before motioned him to enter and soundlessly shut the door once he had. A jerk of his head indicated Mardans was to follow. With torches lighting the way every fifty feet, they walked quickly through smooth tunnels wide enough for two to walk abreast. A few passages branched off either side, and Mardans noticed several doors along the way, all but one bearing hefty locks.
They stopped in front of one of these doors, which the retainer unlocked. He pushed the door open and waved Mardans inside. “Wait here,” he said in a near whisper. “Make yourself comfortable. The king will be down in a few minutes.” Once Mardans stepped inside, the servant closed and relocked the door, leaving him alone. For a moment, Mardans could hear his footsteps receding and then nothing.
He turned to look at the room. It was large and comfortable, even plush, with fine red wool carpet on which stood a low, oval table with four crimson leather wing chairs around it. A small stone fireplace anchored the center of the right-hand wall, and opposite, a sideboard offered a variety of liquors, glasses, plates, and a few covered platters, which Mardans assumed contained food. Pictures of landscapes and hunting scenes lined the walls, vying for space with a few framed maps and three bookcases crammed with volumes on various topics. Another door led somewhere from the middle of the far wall.
That door opened a few minutes later, and the king stepped through with another man, clearly a relative but slightly shorter and more heavily muscled. He had similar blond hair but wore it longer, tied back with a leather cord. His clothes resembled those worn by the kingdom’s military officers but of much higher quality. He strode past the king toward Mardans, engulfing him in a massive bear hug.
“Mardans!” he shouted, genuinely happy. “It’s been too long! I have had no fun since you left! It’s just been train, learn, work, and serve for twelve years straight! Tell me you’re coming back!”
“I love you too, Lirens!” Mardans said, returning the embrace with a huge smile. “It’s good to be back.”
“What’ve you been up to?” his slightly younger half-brother asked when they had settled in chairs around the table.
The king, who had gone to the sideboard to pour some drinks, said over his shoulder, “No time for that, Lir. We have limited time to plan what Mardans is going to do for us. I’m sure you two will have plenty of time to catch up in the next few days.”
“Yes, lord king,” Lirens said, with not a little sarcasm and a wink for Mardans. “He’s all business these days.”
“Someone has to be the adult,” Alfons retorted, handing Lirens a glass and sitting across from Mardans. “We need to figure out how to insert Mardans into the court without arousing suspicion yet giving him enough freedom to investigate just about everyone. Any ideas?”
“The guard idea works all right for watching things and poking your nose in here and there,” said Lirens, “but no one above a palace servant will readily answer prying questions. Unless you’re some kind of wizard, you’ll need some authority to get the lords and ladies to talk.”
“Not a wizard,” Mardans said, putting his hands up. “Sorry.”
Alfons shook his head, still deep in thought. “Someone with authority who starts asking questions will put everyone on edge and the guilty party on notice. Mouths will close.”
“I agree,” Mardans said, scratching the back of his head. “Which is why we keep coming back to a guard or servant: Guards and servants are everywhere, and no one pays them any mind.”
“Is there any other person people will talk to and not suspect?” Alfons asked.
“A bartender?” Lirens answered with a bark of laughter. “And speaking of drinks, mine is empty.”
“Get it yourself, you lush,” the king said. “Not my job.” He looked over at Mardans, who was gazing into the distance. “What are you thinking, Mardans?”
“I know he was just being funny,” he replied, “but I think Lirens is on to something. Everyone talks to a bartender. I chatted with the barmaid myself just last night at the Double B. I didn’t spill my guts to her by any means, but most people just open up to someone pouring them drinks. And the alcohol loosens the tongue even more.”
“But we don’t have a bar in the palace,” said Lirens, returning from the sideboard, a second drink and a plate of finger foods in hand, “more’s the pity.”
“What’s the closest palace servant to such a person, then?” asked Mardans. “Someone who’s seen as neutral and harmless? Someone who seems to have no agenda?”
Alfons and Lirens looked thoughtful, but after a short while, Alfons shook his head, and Lirens shrugged. “I can’t think of anyone like that at court,” said Alfons.
“Neither can I,” Lirens agreed. “No one trusts anyone, and everyone in the palace has an agenda, excepting children, and I wouldn’t trust some of them. There is no such person.”
“What about an outsider whom no one would suspect?” suggested Mardans.
Lirens shook his head. “Everyone would suspect an outsider,” he argued. “An outsider is the ultimate untrustworthy person. No one knows where he stands or what his agenda is.”
The king had watched their exchange with curiosity. “What are you thinking, Mardans?” he said after a moment. “You have an idea, don’t you?”
He nodded. “When you go into a tavern of an evening, who is normally present, someone everyone expects to be there like another piece of furniture? Someone that no one thinks has any other life except what he is there to do?”
The brothers stared at him with utterly blank faces. “The cook?” Lirens finally offered.
Mardans just laughed. “I forgot,” he said. “You princes of the realm have not visited taverns as often as I have. No, Lirens, not the cook. I’m talking about the entertainer—the singer, the musician, the storyteller, the bard, the illusionist, the comic. I can remember a dozen times when people opened up to the singer or lute player just because he was there. People buy him ale or a shot of whiskey and reminisce or ask about their travels or the last town they performed in. The patrons soon consider him a fixture in the place, unimportant, a thing that is always there and so, not suspicious. They soon forget he is there at all. And yes, the drinks help.”
“So, you would come in as what, then, a singer? A musician?” the king asked, uncertainty etched on his features.
Mardans shrugged. “Either. Both. I can sing and play.”
“How’s this?” Lirens asked, sitting up. “When did you learn to do these things? You didn’t do them when we were children.”
“That’s true,” said Mardans with a half-smile. “But I just spent more than a year in the company of an entertainment troupe that played from Delphino to Harod to Arxalta and lots of towns and villages in between. I think I can play the palace in Palisade.”
“A one-man show?” the prince said, eyes wide. “You could do that? You’re a wonder!”
Mardans laughed and mimed a bow. “I’m more than meets the eye. I can be funny too.”
“No!” Lirens exclaimed. “You?” He laughed, too. “When we were kids, you were always the serious one!”
“People can change,” Mardans said, sweeping his hands wide, “if they must. I’ve had to find my way these past years.”
The comment instantly sobered Lirens. “Right. Sorry about that.”
Mardans brushed it aside. “Not your fault. An inconvenience to me, but one I overcame. It was inevitable considering the family dynamics.”
“Mother shouldn’t have done it,” Lirens growled. “None of us liked it. We all complained, but we couldn’t do anything about it.”
“Think nothing of it,” Mardans said magnanimously. He winked and waved a hand. “I absolve you.” Lirens chuffed but made no reply.
“So, you’re serious about this entertainment angle,” the king said a moment later.
“Yes!” Mardans said, grinning. “I think it’s the perfect time for it too. The equinox and harvest festival are coming up in about three weeks, which should give me plenty of time to get a kit together and write some material. And having performers in for the holiday is not unheard of, right?”
“Not at all,” the king answered. “In fact, we scheduled a bard to perform all three evenings.”
“Excellent!” Mardans said, rubbing his hands. “Bard-work is my weakest area anyway. He can do the more dramatic stuff while I do the lighter side.”
“So, what? You’ll be a comedian?” Lirens asked, a brow raised over his handsome face.
“No,” Mardans replied with a wide grin. “A comedian is too serious by far! I’ll be a jester!”
“A jester?” the king repeated, his brow furrowed. “A jester? It’s been decades since any court has had a jester!”
Mardans laughed, not just warming to the idea but fully invested. “No court in Margonne, you mean! Who would know if they entertained other courts from time to time! It would be a novelty!”
Alfons remained unconvinced. “Would that not draw more scrutiny? Would it not make the target more wary?”
“Not if we frame it right,” Mardans answered, excitement tingeing his voice. “It needs to be celebrated like it’s the most exciting thing to happen in Palisade for generations! Then, underneath the excitement, we should whisper that the king wants to take everyone’s mind off the dagger’s theft and lift their spirits. This way, we explain my presence in a more-or-less logical way, which just about everyone will accept.”
“So, a novelty for stressful times,” Lirens said, grinning. “Mardans, of all people, clowning around. I like it. I would pay to see it.”
The king did not speak for a full minute, then looked at both Lirens and Mardans. “I think it has merit,” he said slowly, doubt remaining in his voice. “It’s the best idea we’ve had, and it should work so long as the guilty party doesn’t recognize you, Mardans. If he does, he’ll know you’re there as my eyes and ears, at the very least.”
“You’ll have to disguise yourself somehow,” said Lirens.
Mardans nodded. “I have a few ideas about how to do that. I learned a thing or two with the troupe that will help. It’s not hard to do.”
“All right,” the king said after a while, smiling at last. “Our brother will investigate in the guise of a jester! I never imagined we would consider anything like this today.”
“Good!” Mardans said. “If there are paper, pen, and ink here, I will draft a list of supplies I will need from you.”
“Of course, we have writing implements here!” Lirens said, looking at his half-brother as if he were daft. “Did you somehow fail to notice the king owns a stationery store?”
A few notes:
When Margonne built his palace atop the plateau, he first dug out a series of basement rooms and, of course, a handful of tunnels leading to various parts of the city. Having grown up in the Angevin royal palace in Harod, which also contained such underground passages, he was eager to incorporate them into his own. The room the three brothers met in was the King’s Study, a place the monarchs of Margonne frequently used to get away from the court and relax or to discuss some secret matter in absolute privacy.
At this time, both bards and jesters had declined in favor of acting troupes, troubadours, and musicians of various kinds, especially lute players. The work of bards was considered ancient and dull, while most people thought jesters were either too crude or too silly. Knowing this, Mardans took a significant risk to suggest it to Alfons, who was otherwise keen to keep his court respectable.
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