Jester Leaps In: A Medieval Mystery (21 page)

Father Melchior escorted us out.

“Make a pact with the Devil, and before you know it you’re working for him,” commented Claudius.

“I think we all want the same thing, ultimately.”

“But what if Asan’s death isn’t connected to what we’re doing?” she asked. “What if it was just something that happened in the Rooster by coincidence? Are we now so beholden to this monster that we have to hunt down the killer and execute him? Asan was a thief. Whoever did this may have been completely justified.”

“Then he shouldn’t have dumped the body in our room.”

“Panic,” she argued. “He wasn’t thinking. But now it’s a death that’s wanted, and we have to supply it. That’s not justice; that’s just another murder.”

“We’ll think of something. This is all supposition on our part. Look at the bright side. The murderer probably is after us, so we can kill him without agonizing over it.”

“Well, that would be a blessing, wouldn’t it? God, this foolish life leads to perverse logic. Look, I have a feeling that events are coming to a head, now. I really think you ought to let me find out what game Thalia is playing.”

“If you were a full-fledged fool . . .”

“We don’t have time,” she interrupted me. “I’ve juggled for you, played for you, killed for you. Apprentice or not, I can do it.”

“No.”

“Why are you protecting her?” she shouted. “What does she mean to you after all this time? Somehow, she’s part of what is happening here, and you’re letting your history blind you to all this. Or maybe it isn’t history to you. You’ve let the past become present again. And how can I possibly compete with her? I’m not even a fool yet. Hell, I’m not even a woman any more.”

“Stop it, Viola.”

The use of her name caught her up short. She walked ahead
of me, fuming, but by the time we reached the Rooster, she had calmed down. It was around midnight, and no one stirred when we entered.

“I’ll take first watch,” she said as we entered our room.

I stretched out on the pallet.

“If it is one of our neighbors, who is most likely?” she asked.

“Any one of them is capable of doing it,” I said. “What leaps to mind is friend Peter the butcher coming from the back of the building as we came in, having just washed his hands. The man spends his life up to his elbows in blood. What’s a little more?”

“He seems like a decent fellow,” she said. “But you never know. What about Stephanos? He and Asan both work for Esaias. It could have been a falling-out among thieves.”

“Stephanos is more brute than thief,” I said. “I doubt that they worked together. If he caught Asan stealing, he’d be more likely to snap his neck and brag about it afterward. I still think Asan was killed because someone thought he was you.”

She shivered, sitting in her corner.

“I never knew what it was like being marked for death,” she said. “Can’t say that I like it much.”

“Occupational hazard,” I said. “Good night, wife.”

She leaned over and kissed me, her beard tickling.

“Good night, my love,” she whispered.

I fell asleep.

She didn’t wake me for my watch. She didn’t wake me at all. What did wake me was a pair of strong hands shaking me roughly.

“Theo!” someone whispered.

I opened my eyes to see Thalia, still in monk’s garb, kneeling by me. I sat up.

“What’s the hour?” I asked, blinking stupidly in the daylight.

“Midmorning,” she said. “And a fine thing for a Guild fool to be caught napping like this.”

“But Claudius was on watch,” I said. I looked around the room.

Claudius had vanished.

There is in you an impulse to play the clown, which you have held in
restraint from a reasonable fear of being set down as a buffoon; but now you
have given it rein, and . . . you may be unconsciously carried away into
playing the comedian in your private life
.

THE REPUBLIC OF PLATO, CH.
37

Y
ou’d better get going,” Thalia said. “All hell is breaking loose downstairs.”

“Where’s Claudius?”

“How should I know?” she said, shrugging. “I just got here.”

“How did you get in without their seeing you?”

“It’s not the first time I’ve come into a man’s bedchamber through the window,” she said. “Not the first time I came into yours that way, now that I think of it.”

I looked around the room. Viola’s jester bag was gone, along with the saddlebags containing the rest of her belongings.

“Looks like he pulled out,” she observed.

“She wouldn’t do that,” I muttered.

“She?”

“He. He wouldn’t do that,” I said. “I’m not awake yet. What’s going on downstairs?”

“One of your neighbors isn’t awake yet either. Probably because he’s dead. The landlord isn’t letting anyone leave until he sorts things out.”

“Simon? How is he keeping them in?”

“With a really big sword,” she said, grinning her old grin. “I should introduce him to Euphy. She likes men with big swords.”

I gave the room a quick once-over. There were no bloodstains where Asan had fallen. His cloak had absorbed everything. Good. Nothing to tie us to him.

“You stay here,” I said. “I’m going downstairs.”

I staggered down, the very picture of a hangover, and stared sleepily at the assembly.

“Good morning,” I said. “Is there some holiday? Why isn’t anyone working?”

“Good morning, Fool,” said Simon, completely filling the doorway. He held a two-handed longsword in front of him like it was a feather. “Someone’s killed Asan.”

“Killed?” I gasped. “When? Where?”

“In his room last night,” said Simon. “Where’s Claudius?”

Damn, I thought. Bad timing all around.

“He rose early,” I said. “He’s out.”

“Out where?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He didn’t say. I overslept. When I awoke, he was gone.”

“There’s your murderer,” said Michael.

“Impossible,” I said. “He couldn’t have killed Asan.”

They turned to look at me.

“Why not?” asked Simon.

“Because he was with me the entire time,” I said.

“Until you fell asleep,” said Stephanos in an ominous rumble.

“And how do you know when Asan was killed?” demanded Simon.

“I don’t,” I said.

“Claudius killed him,” said Michael.

“He doesn’t seem the type,” protested Peter. “Why would he kill him?”

“Does not matter,” said one of the Russians. “Was thief. Deserved to die.”

Stephanos stood up with a roar, the bench tumbling behind him. He took a step toward the Russians, ready to fight them all at once.

“Stop,” said Simon quietly.

Stephanos turned toward him. “Asan was my friend,” he bellowed.

“There will be no fighting in here,” said Simon. “You sit down, or I’ll kill you myself. I swung this blade for Christ. I can swing it against the Devil if I have to.”

Stephanos stared at him, then looked down at the blade that was pointed at his chest. He picked up the bench and sat down meekly.

“Now, we don’t want the Vigla poking around our lives,” said Simon. Everyone in the room nodded in agreement. “Right now, it looks like Claudius may have done it. But he’s skipped. As long as he stays skipped, that’s fine. If he comes back, I’ll deal with him. On the other hand, it may be one of you. Asan may very well have had it coming, but that’s not how we do things at the Rooster. You want to kill someone, you take it outside. Otherwise, you will have me to answer to. Am I understood?”

“What about him?” asked Michael, pointing to me. “His companion did this. Are you going to let Feste stay here?”

“He’s paid in advance,” said Simon. “I have no problem with him. Do you?”

Michael looked at the sword, which was now pointed toward the floor.

“No problem,” he said, shaking his head.

Simon stepped away from the doorway.

“Have a productive day, gentlemen,” he said pleasantly. “Dinner tonight will be rabbit.”

They filed out quickly, leaving me with Simon. He looked at me.

“I don’t think Claudius killed him,” he said. “You, on the other hand, seem more than capable.”

“So is Claudius,” I said. “Who do you really think killed him?”

“Most likely someone here,” he said. “No one else went upstairs last night, or I would have heard them.”

“What are you going to do with the body?”

He went back into his room, then reemerged with a large, burlap sack.

“Do you need any help?” I offered.

“Sure. Get a bucket of water and some rags.”

By the time I came back up, the late thief had been unceremoniously bundled into the sack, along with his belongings. In the daylight, I could see that Asan’s room was larger than mine. It also featured an actual door in the doorway, with a plank that could be dropped into place behind it. I cleared my throat, and Simon looked at me.

“I was wondering, since this room is now available . . .” I said hesitantly.

Simon began laughing.

“You’re a cold-blooded fellow,” he said. “The lad’s barely dead, and you want a better room. Maybe that’s a reason for killing someone.”

“Hardly.”

“All right, it’s yours as long as you don’t fear ghosts. Hard to let out a room where someone’s just died. Murdered men tend to prowl around a bit.”

“So do murderers,” I said. “I like a door I can bar. Especially since I don’t have a sword like yours. You were very imposing down there.”

He snorted. “Once you’ve faced a Saracen army, a barroom
seems tame by comparison.” He threw me some rags. “Here, you clean up. I’ll take care of the body.”

I took the rags and began mopping the floor as Simon hauled the sack downstairs. I didn’t ask him what he was going to do with it. I preferred not knowing.

I rinsed out the rags in the bucket. There was a small amount of blood on the floor, barely coloring the water. I took the pail out back and emptied it. Then I remembered Thalia and went back to my room.

She was still there, staying out of view from the hallway.

“Where is everyone?” she asked.

“The other inmates have gone to work,” I said. “Simon is lugging the body away. I have the feeling he’s done this before.”

“At the Rooster? Very likely. So, we’re alone at last. I’m glad the little fellow’s not around.”

She had that look going again, a smile dancing in her eyes.

“Give me your knife,” I said.

The smile vanished.

“Why?” she asked.

“To satisfy my curiosity.”

She reached inside her cowl and pulled it out.

“And the other one, please.”

A second slid into her other hand. She gave them both to me. I held them up to the window and inspected them carefully.

“No blood,” I said.

“My hands and nails are clean, too,” she said, holding them out for me to see. “Of course, if I were a killer, I’d be smart enough to wash up afterward. Curiosity satisfied?”

“Not completely,” I said. “You said you would return two nights ago. What happened?”

“I saw Father Esaias come in with a rough-looking bunch. I
thought it would be impolite to join the party, especially since he and I showed up wearing the same outfit.”

“And last night?”

She was silent.

“In the last three nights, I have returned to my room to find someone who should have been dead, someone who looked like Death, and someone who actually was dead,” I said. “Were you here last night?”

“I thought he was found in his room,” she said slowly.

“Claudius and I put him there after we found him here,” I said. “But someone killed him here thinking he was Claudius or myself. Were you here last night?”

“No,” she said. “I was detained.”

“Who detained you?”

“I can’t say.”

I held up her knives.

“You’re unarmed, my dear. And you’ve been holding out on me. I want to know who you’re working for.”

Her face turned livid.

“How dare you!” she spat. “After I nearly died for the Guild, you question my loyalty?”

“But you didn’t die,” I said. “That makes you the only one so far.”

“You don’t believe I was attacked,” she said, shaking her head. “Oh, Theo, I had expected better of you after all this time. You need proof. Very well.”

She pulled off the monk’s garb. Underneath she was still in man’s clothing.

“And I’m not unarmed,” she said, dropping two more knives to the ground. “That’s the first token of good faith. Here’s the second.”

She started to pull off her tunic.

“Wait,” I protested.

“Come, Theo,” she said. “You’ve seen this body before. Don’t play shy with me.”

Thalia stood half-naked in front of me, still seeming for all the world the eighteen-year-old fool I once knew.

“Bring back any memories?” she said mockingly.

Before I could say anything, she turned around.

The smoothness of her skin was broken by grotesque scars covering her lower back. I reached forward and touched them lightly. She shuddered violently and clasped her arms tightly across her chest.

“So, Theo, I can come hither and still make myself alluring to a man,” she said in a broken voice. “It’s the going thither that repels them.”

“Get dressed,” I said roughly. I handed her back the two knives I held.

She was back to holy anonymity in seconds. Then she turned to face me.

“Do you believe me now?” she asked.

“Believe, somewhat. Trust, no,” I said. “Did you know Zintziphitzes was killed?”

Her shock looked genuine.

“When?” she cried.

“Two or three days ago,” I said. “We found what was left of him in his room, providing a funeral feast for his four-legged neighbors. Now, someone’s coming after me. Any ideas on the subject?”

“No.”

“Then get out. Come back when you have something useful to tell me. I have to find Claudius and perform before the Emperor, and I haven’t had anything to eat.”

“I thought you were going to save me,” she whispered.

“That wasn’t part of my mission,” I said. I started packing my gear.

When I looked up, she was gone.

I tossed my bags into a dead man’s room, then went to the stables.