Fool Chapter 23

cardinalDEEP IN THE DUNGEONMy fool, key Lear, as the guards dragged me into the livelihood. Bring him here, and relinquish him. The of age(predicate) cosmos looked stronger, more alert, cognisant. Bar top executive orders again. only if with the com musical compositiond he commenced a coughing fit that ended with a spot of subscriber line on his white beard. Drool held a water skin for the anile man while he drank.Weve a beating to deliver, first, say one and only(a) of the guards. becausece youll cause your fool, well striped as well as checkered. non if you want any of these buns and ale, say Bubble. Shed take place rase other st walkover sort and was carrying a basket c eery everywhereed with c curingh and steaming the near delectable aroma of freshly baked bread. A flask of ale was slung oer her shoulder and a bundle of clothes tucked under her dispense with arm.Or well beat the fool and take your buns as well, verbalise the younger of the deuce guards, o ne of Edmunds men and obviously not aw atomic number 18 of the pec powerfulness order at the White Tower. Bugger God, St. George, and the white-bearded king if you must, exclusively woe unto you if you crossed the cantankerous cook c on the wholeed Bubble, for thered be grit and grubs baked into on the whole youd ever eat until the acerbate fin in ally took you.Youll not want to fight drink that bargain, mate, said I.The fools wearing the kit of one of my servers, said Bubble, and the boys shivering natural in my kitchen. Bubble threw a bundle of colour clothing with the nix into the cadre with Drool and Lear. Heres the fools motley. Now strip, you rascal, and let me get rear to my business.The guards were laughing now. Well, go on, half-size one, get your kit off, said the sometime(a) guard. Weve hot buns and ale waiting.I undressed in front of the lot of them, old Lear protesting from time to time, manage anyone gave a hot bootful of piss what he had to say anymore. When I was radiant naked, the guards unlocked the door and I crept over to the bundle. Yes My knives where there, secreted in with the rest. With a bit of sleight o hand and a amazement from Bubble handing start buns and ale, I was able to secure them inner my jerkin when I dressed.Two other guards joined the two aside side of meat of our cell and shared the bread and ale. Bubble waddled back up the stairs, shooting me a wink as she went.The king are melancholy, Pocket, said Drool. We should sing him a song and cheer him up.Sod the sodding king, said I, looking instantaneously into Lears hawk eye.Watch yourself, boy, said Lear.Or what? Youll experience my mother dash off while shes raped, so let her in the river? Have my father cancel outed later, then? Oh, wait. Those threats are no longer valid, are they, uncle? Youve carried them out already.What are you on about, boy? The old man looked fearsome, as if hed forgotten hed been treated like so much chattel and thrown in a hencoop full of clowns, tho instead faced a fresh affront.You. Lear. Do you remember? A stone bridge in Yorkshire, some cardinal years ago? You called a turn girl up from the riverbank, a pretty little thing, and held her down while you commanded your brother to rape her. Do you remember, Lear, or perplex you done so much evil that it all blends into a nifty black swath in your memory?His look went wide then, I could tell he remembered.Canus Aye, your poxy brother sired me then, Lear. And when no one would believe my mother that her son was the pecker of a prince, she drowned herself in that alike river where you threw her that day. All this time I cause called you nuncle who would have purview it current?It is not true, he said, his voice quivering.It is true And you know it, you decrepit old poke44 of bones. A warp of villainy and a woof of greed are all that hold you together, gee desiccated dragon.The four guards had gathered at the debar and peered in as if t hey were the ones who were imprisoned.Blimey, said one of the guards.Cheeky little tosser, said another.No song, then? asked Drool.Lear shook his finger at me then, so angry was he that I could see blood moving in the veins of his forehead. You shall not speak to me in this way. You are less than nothing. I draw you from the gutter, and your blood bequeath run in the gutter on my treatment out front sundown.Will it, nuncle? My blood may run exclusively it pass on not be on your word. On your word your brother may have died. On your word your father may have died. On your word your queens may have died. But not this meretricious tool, Lear. Your word is but wind to me.My daughters will Your daughters are upstairs, fighting over the bones of your kingdom. They are your captors, you ancient nutter.No, they You sealed this cell when you killed their mother. Theyve both alone told me as much.Youve seen them? He seemed strangely hopeful, as if I might have forgotten to bring the good cuttings from his traitorous daughters.Seen them? Ive shagged them. Silly, really, that it should matter, afterwards all his dark deeds, all his slights and cruelties, that a fool should shag his daughters, but it did matter, and it was a way to unleash a little of the fury I felt toward him.You have not, said Lear.You have? asked one of the guards.I stood then, and strutted a bit for my audience, plus it was a better position for grinding my weenie into Lears soul. All I could see was the water closing over my mothers head, all I could hear was her screams as Lear held her. I shagged them both, repeatedly, and with relish. Until they screamed, and begged and whimpered. I shagged them on the parapets overlooking the Thames, in the towers, under the table in the great hall, and once, I shagged Regan on a platter of pork in front of Muslims. I shagged Goneril in your own bed, in the chapel, and on your throne which was her idea, by the way. I shagged them while servants w atched and in fact you were wondering, because they asked, and as any princess should be shagged, for the pure sweet nasty of it. And they they did it because they loathe you.Lear had been wailing while I ranted, trying to drown me out. Now he growled, They do not. They love me all. They have said.You murdered their mother, you decrepit loony Theyve ordain you in a cell in your own dungeon. What do you need, a written decree? I tried to shag the hate out of them, nuncle, but some cures lie beyond a jesters talents.I precious a son. Their mother would accept me none.Im sure if they had known that they wouldnt have detested you so deeply and done me so well.My daughters wouldnt have you. You didnt have them.Oh, I did, on my black hearts blood, I did. And when it first started, separately of them would shout make when she came. I wonder wherefore. Oh yes, nuncle, I did indeed. And they wanted you to know thats why they criminate me before you. Oh yes, I bonked them both.No, wailed Lear.Me, too, said Drool, with a great juicy grin. Beggin your pardon, he quickly added.But not today? asked one of the guards. Right?No, not today, you bloody(a) nitwit. Today I killed them.The french marched overland from the southeast and sailed ships up the Thames from the east. The lords of Surrey on the south showed no resistance and since Dover lay in the County of Kent, the forces of the banished earl not only offered no resistance, but joined the French in the assault on London. Theyd marched and sailed across England without firing a single go over or losing a single man. From the White Tower the guards could see the fires of the French drawing a great orange crescent in the darkness that illuminated the sky to the east and south.When the captain made the call to implements of war at the castle, one of Lears old knights or squires, under the command of maitre d Curan, put a blade to the throat of any of Edmunds or Regans men, demanding they make up or die. Th e personal guard forces within the castle had all been drugged by the kitchen staff with some mysterious non-lethal poison that mimicked the symptoms of death.Captain Curan send a message to the Duke of Albany from the French queen that if he stood down, in fact, stood with her, that he could return to Albany with his forces, his lands, and his title intact. Gonerils forces from Corn seawall, and Edmunds from Gloucester, camped on the west side of the Tower, found they were flanked on the south and east by the French, and on the magnetic north by Albany. Archers and crossbowmen were dispatched to the Tower walls above the Cornwall army and a herald fought his way done the panicked forces to a commander, carrying the message that the forces of Cornwall were to lay down their weapons on the spot or death would rain down upon them such as they could not imagine.No one was willing to die for the cause of Edmund, bastard of Gloucester, or the dead Duke of Cornwall. They laid down thei r weapons and marched three leagues to the west as instructed.In two hours it was all over. Out of nearly thirty m men who took the field at the White Tower, barely a dozen were killed all of those, Edmunds castle guards who refused to yield.The four guards lay spread about the dungeon in various awkward positions, looking quite dead.Dodgy sodding poison, said I. Drool, see if you can reach the one with the keys.The Natural stretched through with(predicate) the bars, but the guard was too far away.I hope Curan knows were down here.Lear looked around wild-eyed again, as if his madness had re morose. What is this? Captain Curan is here? My knights?Of blood line Curan is here. From the sound of the trumpets Id say hes taken the castle, as was the plan.All your arena was misdirection, then? said the king. Youre not angry?Burning, you old twat, but I was growing weary with keeping the tirade up while the bloody poison took hold. Youre no less a turd in the draw of human kindness t han I have said.No, said the old man, as if my anger actually mattered to him. He began coughing again and caught a handful of blood for his effort. Drool propped him up and wiped his face. I am king. I will not be judged by you, fool.Not just a fool, nuncle. Your brothers son. Did you have Kent murder him? The only decent bloke in your service and you turned him into an assassin, eh?No, not Kent. It was another, not even a knight. A cutpurse who had get in before the magistrate. It was he who Kent killed. I sent Kent after the assassin.He is devil by it still, Lear. Did you have a cutpurse kill your father as well?My father was a leper and necromancer. I could not bear his unshapely form ruling Britain.In your place, you mean?Yes, in my place. Yes. But I did not send an assassin. He was in a cell at the temple at Bath. Out of the way, where no one might ever see him. But I could not take the throne until his death. I did not kill him, though. The priests there simply walled him up. Was time that killed my father.You walled him up? living? I was shaking now, I thought I might have forgiven the old man, seeing him suffer, but now I could hear my blood in my ears.The sound of boots on stone echoed in the dungeon and I looked up to see the bastard Edmund walk into the torchlight.He kicked one of the unconscious mind guards and looked at them like hed just discovered monkey come in his Weetabix.45 Well, thats a spot of bother, isnt it? he said. I suppose Ill have to kill you myself, then. He stooped and took a crossbow from one of the guards back, fit his foot in the stirrup, and cocked the string.INTERMISSION(Backstage with the Players)Pocket, you rascal, youve trapped me in a comedy.Well, for some, it is, yes.When I maxim the hint I thought tragedy was assured.Aye, theres always a bloody sense of touch in a tragedy.But the mistaken identity, the vulgarity, the lightness of theme and paucity of ideas, surely its a comedy. Im not dressed for comedy, Im al l in black.As am I, yet here we are.So it is a comedy.A black comedy I knew it.For me, anyway.Tragedy, then?Bloody pinch is foreshadowing, innit?But all the gratuitous shagging and tossing?Brilliant misdirection.Youre having me on.Sorry, no, its pikemans surprise for you in the next scene.Im slain then?To the great satisfaction of the audience.Oh bugger But theres good news, too.Yes?It remains a comedy for me.God, youre an annoying little git.Hate the play, not the player, mate. Here, let me hold the curtain for you. Do you have any plans for that silver dagger? later on youre gone, I mean.A bloody comedy Tragedies always end with tragedy, Edmund, but life goes on, doesnt it? The winter of our discontent turns inevitably to the spring of a new adventure. Again, not for you.Ive never killed a king, said Edmund. Do you think Ill be famous because of it?Youll not garner favor with your duchesses by killing their father, said I.Oh, those two. Like these guards, quite dead, Im afraid . They were sharing some wine over maps as they planned strategy for the battle and throw down foaming. Pity.These guards arent dead. Merely drugged. Theyll come around in a day or so.He displace the crossbow. Then my ladies are only sleeping?Oh no, theyre quite dead. I gave them each two vials. One with poison, the other with brandy. Bubble used the knockout poison on the guards, so brandy was our non-lethal substitute. If either of them had decided to show mercy for the other, at least one would be alive. But, as you said, pity.Oh, well played, fool. But, that said, Ill have to throw myself on Queen Cordelias mercy, let her know that I was brought into this horrid crew against my will. Perhaps Ill retain the Gloucester title and lands.My daughters? Dead? said Lear.Oh shut up, old man, said Edmund.They was fit, said Drool sadly.But when Cordelia hears of what youve really done? I asked.Which brings us to our apex, doesnt it? You wont be able to tell Cordelia what has transpired. Cordelia, my one true daughter, wailed Lear. shut the fuck up, said Edmund. He raised the crossbow, sighted through the bars at Lear, then stepped back and seemed to lose his aim, as one of my throwing daggers shoot out of his chest with a thud.He lowered the crossbow and looked at the hilt of the knife. But you said pikemans surprise?Surprise, said I.Bastard snarled the bastard. He pulled the crossbow up to fire, this time at me, and I sent the second dagger into his unspoiled eye. The crossbow twanged and the heavy bolt rattled off the stone ceiling as Edmund spun and fell onto the pile of guards.That were smashing, said Drool.Youll be rewarded, fool, said Lear, his voice terrific with blood. He coughed.Nothing, Lear, said I. Nothing.Then there was a womans voice in the chamber Ravens cry pork from the battlements, theres dead Edmund on the wind and darn beaks water at his scoundrel scentThe ghost. She stood over Edmunds body international our cell, rather more ethereal and le ss solid than shed been when last Id seen her. She looked up from the dead bastard and grinned. Drool whimpered and tried to hide his head understructure Lears white mane.Lear tried to agitate her away, but the ghost floated to the bars in front of him. Ah, Lear, walled up your father, did you? And?Go away, spirit, do not vex me.Walled up your daughters mother, didnt you? said the ghost.She was unfaithful cried the old man.No, said the ghost. She was not.I sat down on the cell floor, feeling light-headed now. Killing Edmund had made me queasy, but this. The anchoress at Dog Snogging was your queen? I asked, my voice look faraway in my own ears.She was a sorceress, said Lear. And she consorted with my brother. I did not kill her. I could not bear it. I had her imprisoned at the abbey in Yorkshire.Well you damn well killed her when you had her walled up I shouted.Lear cowered at my veracity. She was unfaithful, having dalliance with one of the local boys. I could not bear the thoug ht of her with another.So you ordered her walled up.Yes Yes And the boy was hanged. YesYou heinous monsterShe did not give me a son, either. I wanted a son.She gave you Cordelia, your favorite.And she was true to you, said the ghost. Up to the time you sent her away.No The old king tried to wave the ghost away again.Oh yes. And you had your son, Lear. For years you had your son.I had no son.Another farm girl you took near another battlefield, this one in Iberia.A bastard? I have a bastard son?I saw hope rise in Lears cold hawk eye and I wanted to strike it out the way that Regan had taken Gloucesters. I simple(a) the last of my throwing daggers.Yes, said the ghost. You had a son, these many years, and you lie in his harness now.What?The Natural is your son, said the ghost.Drool? said I.Drool? said Lear.Drool, said the ghost.Da said Drool. And he gave his newfound father a great, arm-rippling hug. Oh Da There was a cracking of bones and the sickly sound of air escaping wet, crushed lungs. Lears eyes bulged out of his head and his parchment-dry skin began to go gamy as Drool gave him a lifetime of sons love all in a moment.When the whistling sounds stopped coming out of the old man I went to Drool and pried his arms off, then lowered Lears head to the floor. let loose, lad. Let him go.Da? said Drool.I closed the old mans crystal-blue eyes. Hes dead, Drool. tosser said the ghost. She spat, a tiny gob of ghost spit that came out as a moth and fluttered away.I stood then and spun on the ghost. Who are you? What harm has been done that can be undone so your spirit may rest, or will at least make you go away, thou ether-limbed irritation?The injustice has been undone, said the ghost. At last.Who are you?Who am I? Who am I? Your answer is in a knock, good Pocket. cut upon your coxcomb, and ask that trifling machine of thought wherefrom comes his art. Knock upon your cod, and ask the teensy occupant who wakes him in the night. Knock upon your heart, and ask the s pirit there who woke it to the passionateness of its home fire ask that tender ghost who is this ghost before you.Thalia, said I, for I could, at last see her. I fell to my knees before her.Aye, lad. Aye. She put her hand on my head. Arise, Sir Pocket of Dog Snogging.But, why? Why did you never say you were a queen? Why?He had my daughter, my sweet Cordelia.And you always knew of my mother?I heard stories, but I didnt know who your father was, not while I lived.Why didnt you tell me of my mother?You were a little boy. Thats not the sort of story for a little boy.Not so little you wouldnt have me off through an arrow loop.That was later. I was going to tell you, but he had me walled up.Because we were caught?The ghost nodded. He always had a problem with the purity of others. Never his own.Was it direful? I had tried not to think of her, alone in the dark, last of hunger and thirst.It was lonely. I was always lonely, except for you, Pocket.Im sorry.Youre a love, Pocket. Good-bye. She reached through the bars and touched my cheek, like the slightest brush of silk it was. Care for her.What?She started to float toward the far wall where the body of Edmund lay.She said After grave offense to daughters three,Soon the king a fool shall be. Nooooooo, wailed Drool. My old da is dead.No he isnt, said Thalia. Lear wasnt your father. I was having you on.She faded away and I started to laugh and she was gone.Dont laugh, Pocket, said Drool. I are an orphan.And she didnt even hand us the bloody keys, said I. morose footsteps fell on the stairs and Captain Curan appeared in the passage with two knights. Pocket Weve been looking for you. The day is ours and Queen Cordelia approaches from the south. What of the king?Dead, said I. The king is dead.