The Motley Knight: A Fool's Errand (Part 2)

    The usual calm of the old hermit’s cottage did little to diffuse the tension as Merryn Godrick prepared to present himself to the court. He had done so a hundred times before; but today was special. All of the nobles would be there – and her. She would be there. For his daring rescue of Lady Elaine, Merryn was now summoned before the entire court, and who knows who else.

    “I think you’re as quiet as you’ve ever been, boy”, Old Hallahan beamed. The fool ignored the old master’s ribbing. He was franticly straightening himself up, patting his unruly black hair into place with water the hermit had set out to boil for their morning tea. Pyle the street ear was not so silent, and only added to the tension with his own sense of urgency.

    “I bet they’ll pay you a chest of gold,” he spattered, wiggling his fingers as if imaginary gold was sifting through them (and imagining it was his).

    “Or jewels,” he considered, his eyes bulging. Mortimier Pyle was not a horror to look at, if only he saw fit to make himself more presentable; but his features seemed to grow more rodent-like when he dreamed of profit. He paid little mind to Tyro, who was running back and forth trying to collect the fool’s things and frequently bumped into him.

    “Peace, man, peace,” Old Hallahan shouted to silence the street ear. He could see his pupil was worked up. “Was there anything more they told you?”

     “Just at the stroke of ten, Merryn should be there,” Pyle relayed. Then a crooked smile crossed his stubbled face.
    “With bells on!”

     The fool had no time for jokes this morning. This was his big opportunity. He was a lad of twenty-four, not unattractive but not the sort girls give a second look – not highborn girls anyway. His steely blue eyes had a light of intelligence and optimism. Yet, he had always been considered a fool because he always tried to lighten his situation – even as a child. Today, that all changed.

    He presented himself to his mentor. The suit of motley provided by his royal benefactors was barely visible beneath his traveling clothes. In truth, the motley was the nicest clothing he owned. Sprigs of herb adorned him to make him look a bit more gentlemanly. They gave him a pleasant smell.

    “Come, let us not keep the lords waiting,” he said. With a regal step, Merryn strode from the cottage and through the country road toward the city walls. The peasant folk watched him with peculiar looks as he passed. Once inside the bustling city, no one paid him any mind, and his head was racing with thoughts of his meeting with the nobles. Would he be taken seriously at last? Could he be, in such a serious place?

    The palace was like a city within itself, with the great keep at the center. The other governing bodies had their own buildings within the walls, surrounded by the Green Mote. Overhead, the city guard patrolled from the backs of their menacing Stymphas cranes like scavenger beasts. While the towering gates were no doubt built to intimidate, the queen had commissioned a shady garden at the Common Entrance – the gate by which all those irksome and unnecessary citizens the noble lords were supposed to be ruling over entered the castle. This is where Merryn had always entered; and he believed it was the most impressive. While the weathered battlements gave a sense of awe and history, the garden gate was maintained by the palace ladies and seemed always in bloom.

     Though he had been summoned directly to the castle, this was the gate Merryn took. He knew better than to try another entrance. Longstaff would never let the fool live it down. The duke and his men were keen on protocol as the law keepers of the realm. It had been said Longstaff must keep an extra pole up his ass to be as rigid as he was. Still, the knight was ever popular with the ladies, as Merryn recalled. They referred to him as “Two Hands”.

     The guards stood like gargoyles, greeting the fool without emotion as the doors were opened for him. Lady Elaine met him in the hall. Her father was there as well, smiling warmly. He was dressed in his court finery today. His blue doublet was striped with gold; his golden-red goatee trimmed to a point. Elaine was also dressed for a special occasion. Her gown from yesterday was no doubt worse for wear after her adventure.

    “My champion,” she beamed. “My father told the king of your heroics. It was decided you should be summoned here to receive your due.”

     “His lordship was happy to oblige,” offered Lord Osmund.

     “I’m sure her majesty would send her regards as well,” assured Elaine.

    The queen was mad, as everyone knew. She had been cloistered within her bedchamber some years ago after her condition deteriorated. It was terrible to watch. Despite her high station, she had long been a patron of the arts, his strongest patron in fact. It was she who brought Merryn to the court and gave him his permanent home there as the king’s fool. She alone had been truly kind to him, stirred by his humor born from compassion.  

    He did not know what it was that drove her to melancholy. Many whispered that she was barren and that was the cause of her grief. The king would not say; and none dared to approach him about the matter. One day, he simply declared the queen had taken ill and would withdraw to her chambers for rest. Her fool saw her only once after that, when he lifted her spirits with his good natured wit. He saw the spark of life return to her eyes that day. What had happened to her?

    Merryn was escorted to the audience chamber, the grand hall where his majesty held court and heard petitions from his subjects. He had been there before but normally attended smaller gatherings in the throne room, overlooking the garden – and beyond that, the bay past the Green Mote. The audience chamber was like a great, yawning beast. Its gilded, studded doors with their ornate hinges and filigree leered at the tiny fool as he approached. A low rumbling sound came from behind the glaring face of the door. It reminded him of the greymalkin.

    While few knew him by name, Merryn had come to know a great deal about the nobles within the secret city. Lord Osmund and his daughter were close to the king and queen. Lord Proudstag and his Physicians’ Guild had moved in as well, along with a host of ass-kissers and carrion-feeders. Surprisingly, the king’s fool had a few friends at court – perhaps due to his association with the queen. There was plump and jolly Amos Palfrey, known as “The Brown Lord”. He presided over the farmlands and supplied the kingdom with cattle. Ever pecking about like a lively little hen was Lady Cornish, a friend of the queen and one of the crown’s “ears” (though her own were always hidden beneath some elaborate head wrap).

    The most fearsome at court were Essington – the duke – and Lady Redington, whose vicious barbs lacked all of Merryn’s subtlety and good humor. Though regal, she resembled a Stymphas bird in both appearance and personality. While the duke traveled with his own entourage of cronies, he had recently gained the bloated taxman Lord Sorrel as his most recent parasite. Most of the court had little respect for “the crown financier”, as he insisted he be called; to many, including Merryn, he was “Lord Fat Shanks”. It was known Sorrel was a close friend of the royal manciple, Lord Custer, who very likely gave him a generous first portion of everything in the kitchens.  

   Then, there was the king’s magus: Addison Thayne. He was hailed as “Master of the Gilded Book”, but Merryn had his own name for the haughty young mage – “Adder Tongue”. His tongue was as sharp as his features, with falcon eyes that judged his peers from behind horn-rimmed spectacles. He considered himself an expert on practically everything and was keen to remind everyone of it. Of course, no one argued with him because he was schooled in magic. Still, he had no shortage of lady admirers as he was pleasing to look at. Long auburn hair cascaded over his court finery and he wore gloves and boots fitting of the highest of lords.

    “Into the wasps’ nest,” Lord Osmund smiled with a wink. The heavy, ornate doors were opened by halberdiers and Merryn saw the throngs crowding the chamber. While he did not know what to expect, clearly they were all expecting something. His arrival triggered a sudden murmur. He took a last, deep breath.     

   He entered the king’s audience chamber, drawing the eyes of the lords as he cautiously made his way through their midst toward the dais. The duke was conversing with Fat Shanks and Lady Redington. They paused and watched him pass in unison, like a flock of ambitious vultures.

   “My jury”, Merryn thought unpleasantly. The eager smiles of Elaine and Lady Cornish reassured him as Merryn stood before the throne and genuflected. King Darius was seated, wearing a shrewd look on his grey-bearded face. Old as he seemed, there was a cunning and power about him that always made it intimidating to be in the king’s presence. Those wheels were always turning. Fortunately, the king enjoyed a good jest more than the others. The young mage presided over the court alongside him, clutching his gilded tome and staring austerely at the attendants.

   “Merryn Godrick,” the king spoke in a booming voice, “you have been summoned in recognition of your valor. Lord Osmund has told me firsthand of your deeds. I admit I am amazed! Never before have I awarded a fool for such noble actions. How shall I reward such honor and bravery?”

    “Why not commission him a ship,” old Fat Shanks offered to Osmund. “A small craft. You could call it The King’s Fool.”

    “Do you jest?” the ship master rebuked him. “He is owed something more than your scorn!”

   “Owed by you, my lord,” the duke reminded him. “Our Crown Financier has a point. Why take from the treasury when you could amply reward the man yourself?”

   “His majesty offered when I relayed the tale,” Lord Osmund addressed him. “Pity your rangers weren’t there – but I understand if you had more pressing matters than policing the king’s road...”

    The duke grimaced. Merryn caught it when he dared to peek over at the lords gathered around the dais. He was still kneeling before the king and nervously turned his eyes back toward the stone tile. His knee was beginning to hurt. Duke Essington spun on his heels and addressed his peers.

    “Perhaps a knighthood,” the duke mused. His cronies laughed, Two Hands the loudest. Merryn couldn’t believe his ears. Had they brought him here just to mock him?

   “Why not,” Lady Cornish spoke up suddenly. Merryn’s eyes drifted back in disbelief. The duke’s own eyes widened as his little joke turned against him.  

   “A fair suggestion,” Osmund cried. “Let him be knighted!”

   “Sir Merryn of the Motley,” The Red Lady spoke next. The fool knew her shrill cackle all too well. Lady Redington snorted a laugh that spread to some of her retinue.

   “I say again, my lord, let it be done,” Lady Cornish insisted.

  “I agree,” shouted Osmund. By now, the fool’s legs were beginning to waver as he knelt; but the mounting horror on Essington’s face gave him strength. What began as a joke had grown into a cheer that rose from other nobles. A nervous glance toward the king showed he seemed to consider the suggestion seriously. There was objection from some other knights. The Knight of the Blue and Knight of the Green both protested.

   “You’re joking! He’s no knight!”

   “SILENCE!” hissed Adder Tongue. His eyes flashed blue like lightning and all fell silent. King Darius rose.

   “The decision is made,” he announced. “It is well made, in fact. Truly, I can think of only one way to honor such courage.”

   King Darius stepped down and approached Merryn. Struggling mightily to keep his eyes lowered, he felt the royal scepter on one shoulder, then the other.

   “Rise, Sir Merryn of the Motley, Champion of the King’s Wood.”

   He felt as if he were in a dream. Placing a hand on his shoulder, the king turned him to face the court. Loud cheers came from Lady Cornish, Lord Palfrey, and the Osmunds. Even Lord Proudstag applauded, “This is truly a great age when even Fools are heroes!”

   There was a flurry of cheers and greetings as Sir Merryn was marched through the doors in the presence of the court and palace staff. As he processed through the castle gate, he saw crowds had gathered outside. How many had known about this? His head now staggered with new thoughts as he was whisked to the nearest tavern by Tyro and Pyle. There, the common folk toasted the realm’s new knight. He was soon presented with fine new clothes befitting his knighthood by serving girls of Lady Cornish. She had immediately provided for them to replace his faded motley with its missing bells.

    The pub had only just opened, and all business went to the revelers as they celebrated into the stroke of midday. By then the crowds had dispersed for lunch or were fetched by their angry wives.  Tyro remained with him in the tavern, chuckling over the unlikelihood of the whole event. No sooner had the knight changed into his new lordly clothes then there came a stern knock on the door. Lurking behind it was Addison Thayne, the king’s magus.

    “His majesty has sent for you. He will see you at once.”

    Though he dared not grin, Merryn greatly enjoyed this. Adder Tongue was sent as the king’s errand boy – to fetch him, the king’s new knight! He simply nodded at the mage and followed him back to the palace. Tyro the Gypsy was in tow. He made it as far as the courtyard but thought better of going further. It was the same entrance they had used earlier.

   “I’d best wait here,” he said. Adder Tongue said nothing (thankfully) and opened the large, studded door. Merryn followed him down a long, empty hallway. It was strange that the court magus had used the same lowly entrance. In fact, the entire summons had been strange.

    “More secrets,” Merryn thought to himself.

   The king received him in the audience chamber. It was dark and empty. Save for Adder Tongue, there were no guards or servants in sight. The young mage waited outside and waved the bewildered knight through the door. There in the gloom sat the king. Merryn heard the door close behind him.

    “Sir Merryn,” the king nodded slightly. “You are prepared to serve your king?”

    “I am.”

   Though he stood at attention, nobly attired in the finery Lady Cornish had provided, Sir Merryn was nervous. In the dim chamber, the old king looked like death. What mounting danger was behind all this secrecy, he wondered.

    “My closest allies have been carrying out missions in secret. You saw how Lord Osmund was traveling in the King’s Wood.”

    “Aye, my lord,” Merryn agreed. He looked a bit puzzled. The old king could see his new knight was fishing for more; but for once the fool was silent.

    “Essington is not to be trusted”, the king conceded. “I have known for some time that he plans to betray me and usurp my throne.”

   Merryn had always known the duke to be a vain and overbearing creature; but he had never suspected Essington was a traitor. It always seemed he valued the same ideals as the other nobles and they praised him for keeping justice in the realm. Still, the duke maintained his “order” in a most cruel and condescending way. Merryn felt double the fool for not suspecting such a man could conspire to bite the hand that fed him – and fed him well it seemed. Essington had the land, title, and supporters to overthrow the king if he ever desired it. 

    “This news is troubling to you,” the king half-chuckled. “I claim no such naiveté. He is a cunning, grasping snake who has coiled himself around my throne. I think he is a bit too clever for his own good. He does not believe I suspect his treachery; but I too have ears in the street.”

    Here, he turned and looked at Merryn. “I need loyal men I can trust. Essington has agents throughout my king’s guard. I dare not trust any of them with what I am about to tell you.”

     Sir Merryn put his right hand across his heart and nodded. The King Darius continued.

    “Far across the sea is a city of Djinn, wherein lies a ruin I have sought for many years. My magus has been assisting me in researching old legends, trying to decipher the location and the power of the ancient relic within. It is a royal seal of sorts. Anything branded with its mark can be manipulated by whoever holds the seal. According to legend, it was used to enslave Djinn who broke the laws – turning them into captive genies.

    This power was so immense and corruptible that the elders cast protective charms on the seal itself. It was entombed among their hallowed dead and left in some necropolis, surviving only in old legend. You and your ilk deal in old stories and song. You may be familiar with some of what I’ve told you.”

    “Aye, somewhat. If the tales are true, then the duke could use this power?”

    “The brand could affect any living being,” the king said gravely. “Imagine what a greedy soul could do with that much power! My spies tell me Essington knows of it and has been preparing to retrieve it. In the wrong hands, it could wreak great evil.”    

   By now, the fool’s face was very grim. The old king raised a finger and his expression changed to a hopeful look. He continued, “But it could also work wonders. Used properly, it could be have healing powers. You understand my interest in the legend?”

   Merryn nodded. Could this seal be used to cure infirmities of the mind as well? If so, it may well be worth the risk of obtaining it.

    “It must be recovered discreetly; but there is a complication,” the king continued. “It is said the relic cannot be touched by any living hands.”

    “So retrieving it requires some trickery”, Merryn offered. “I see why you came to me with this, my lord.”

    “Good lad,” the king grinned and arched an eyebrow. “I’m sure I can count on your loyalty – if for no other reason, then for our beloved queen.”

    Merryn nodded sternly. Satisfied, the king rose. Noon had chased away the morning and the palace staff were busy preparing lunch.  

    “Take whatever you need,” Darius assured him; “but remember, be discreet. The Duke’s men must not suspect you are on this mission for me.”

    “I understand.”

    “Good. Good lad.”

   As Merryn left the audience chamber, the shadows of the hall awakened dark thoughts in his mind. The queen was mad, aye, everyone knew – but how? Why? A sudden wave of dark chills crept up the fool’s spine. Was it somehow Essington’s doing? He is a traitor. What had the king said?

    “I have known for some time he plans to betray me...He has coiled himself around my throne”.

    “How long a time?” he wondered. The duke dared not attack the king outright. Perhaps this was some attempt to make him look weak. By removing his queen and raising doubts about an heir, the duke could persuade the other lords that the king is unfit to rule. Memories still linger of the Long Wars and the people crave strong leadership to hold the realm together. Essington could rally the other nobles to his side for the sake of “order”.

   Back in the sunny courtyard, Tyro was waiting impatiently. His little knot of a tail twitched nervously as he spied Merryn emerging from the shadows of the inner palace.

    “Well,” he demanded.

    “I have been given a great task”, the fool announced. Tyro cocked his head dubiously.

    “Oh? Where are we headed?” the Gypsy asked.

    He and Merryn strolled through the dappled light of the courtyard. They turned out of a quaint garden gate splashed green with verdigris and spilled out onto a cobblestone street beyond the faded wall. Merryn grinned pleasantly.

    “Home.”