Clandestine Lives
The Jester, the Courtesan and the Assassin
by Tony Duxbury
CHAPTER
ONE
‘Fool!’ the sharp command rang out across the
audience chamber. While listening to his friend, he'd kept an eye on his
master. He knew the Duke was bored. Fex knew the signs, one elbow on the arm of
his chair, chin resting in the palm of his hand, but his index finger slowly
tapping the side of his jaw. Unfortunately, the petitioner didn't know and
continued to drone on. Today's audience was full of mundane affairs. The crowd
consisted mostly of the Duke's vassals, complaining about their neighbours or
whining about something they thought unfair. It had gone on for a couple of
hours already. The Duke could focus on a person and make them believe that he
was drinking in every word and was concerned at what he heard. Fex knew
different. If he read his master's mood correctly, then there wouldn't be any
need for witty banter. Fex turned away from his companion and ran swiftly
towards his master. Half-way there he tripped and tumbled the rest of the way.
His momentum stopped abruptly as he hit the foot of the dais. Still in a heap on the floor, he managed to
shout, in a high squeaky voice, ‘You wanted me, my Lord?' The Duke burst out
laughing, his huge belly shaking, his hooded eyes reduced to slits. Fex knew he
need not do more. His master was a very subtle man but took great delight in
slap-stick comedy. Of course, the whole
court followed suit, which made the Duke laugh even more. Everyone knew it was politic to be amused
when the great man laughed.
While in
his prone position at the foot of the dais, Fex watched the Duke. He knew the
Duke wasn't really amused at his antics; what amused him was the sheep-like
behaviour of the courtiers, hangers-on and petitioners. As he knew the great
man wasn't amused, he believed that the Duke himself recognised his deductions.
It was a game that both of them played, or so Fex thought, each for their
personal benefit. Nothing was ever said, but he felt it to be true. That is,
Fex believed it. Unfortunately, he would
never be able to confirm or refute it. Sometimes he thought he was giving his
Lord too much benefit of the doubt, but in his heart of hearts, he knew that,
where the Duke was concerned, there could not be enough credit given. His
master had a formidable intellect and only played the buffoon to confuse his
enemies, and it worked! Sometimes Fex found that hard to believe, for he knew
his man for the wily son of a bitch he truly was. Being the astute man he was
himself, Fex could see through the clowning, both his and the Duke's. Many times Fex felt that amongst all the men
and women he had known; only the Duke would be able to appreciate his talents,
but alas, their stations in life were so far apart that that was
impossible. So, they continued to play
their secret game together, a game so secret that Fex wasn't aware if the Duke
understood he was participating in it with his Fool!
To add to
the amusement of his Lord, Fex straightened up slowly, groaning all the while
and limped back to his position, his bladder-on-a-stick trailing behind him. This gave the Duke the chance to prolong his
pretended mirth, knowing the spineless rabble would continue to laugh with him.
For the Duke, who was a consummate actor, it was no problem. Unfortunately, his audience was finding it a
strain, but each one feared to be the first to stop. Fex smiled to think of the extra torture he
was adding. It was he, the ‘fool’,
playing the fool, to fool the fools! It warmed the cockles of his heart to know
that only he and the Duke, who was also playing the fool, actually understood
what was really happening.
When he
was back beside his companion, Bandy threw him an admiring glance and a slight
nod. His sidekick was a dwarf; three
foot nothing, with incredibly bandy legs, that's how he got his name. The dwarf
was a true half-wit, without even two brain cells to rub together, but he
understood comedy. Bandy was an
instinctive clown. For him, playing the
fool wasn't an art, but a survival tool.
Bandy didn't have the wit to put this theory forward as a reasoned argument,
but he knew it by learning the hard way.
When people were laughing at you, they weren't physically hurting you,
at least not most of the time. Clowning
for the Duke was far better than being kicked from pillar to post in the cold
streets. Life had dealt cruelly with Bandy until he washed up at the Duke's
court. With his nod he let Fex know that he understood the significance of his
tumble. It took away the need for
telling jokes while having the same effects. In a nutshell-less work! Bandy didn't understand the undercurrents
washing throughout the court, but he did understand results.
After a
wink at Bandy, Fex surveyed the chamber, watching the puppets dance to the
Duke’s tune. He felt infinitely superior
to this pack of braying hypocrites. They stood there, dressed in silks and
expensive furs, for the most part, dripping gold and precious stones, trying to
look nonchalant. Many had feral or desperate expressions on their faces, which
they tried to hide with false smiles. Fex reflected that they looked on him in
the same light as Bandy, just another idiot to be ridiculed. He consoled himself with the thought that
Bandy had more warmth of heart and loyalty than this bunch would ever know. A
sudden thought occurred to him; Bandy was the best and only real friend he had
in this place, in fact, in the entire world.
He smiled at the thought, the fool and the fool, brothers in
foolishness!
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