Free Jester Leaps In: A Medieval Mystery by Alan Gordon Page B

Now he’s a blind man resting in comfort at the Double Column, until our current ruler panics at some omen and has him strangled.”
    “Have there been any such omens lately?”
    He laughed. “Everything’s an omen here, and for every occurrence there are a dozen explanations from a dozen competing soothsayers. This from the heart of Christendom. Give me the Latin church any day. At least it’s consistent. And give me a mercenary over a man of honor. Honor may be bent in any direction, but with a mercenary, you get what you pay for.”
    He upended his cup, then poured some more.
    “How about you? Where are you from?” he asked.
    “Originally? Or lately?”
    “Lately.”
    “I was working up north, traveling from town to town, until they got bored with me. So, I came here.”
    “Someone will probably make an omen out of you,” he remarked. “There used to be some other fools around. Used to see a couple at the games every now and then. Haven’t seen them lately. And the Emperor used to keep a pair of dwarves. Twins. Funniest damn creatures you ever saw.”
    “I’ve heard about them,” I said. “They’re not still around?”
    “No,” he said. “They took off. Had enough, I suppose, and they were well off. Alexios is very generous when he wants to be. I tell you, my friend, if you could get in there, you could do quite well for yourself, if you’re any good.”
    “That would suit me royally,” I said. “How do I go about doing that?”
    “Good question,” he said. “There’s no actual Master of Revelry like there used to be, at least not at the moment. There’s this eunuch, Constantine Philoxenites. He’s the Imperial Treasurer, which means he’s the warden of the Emperor’s greed and profligacy. He’s probably the man to know, but he’s a hard one to reach, there are so many layers of bureaucracy surrounding him. I see him every now and then. If you like, I’ll put in a good word.”
    “I would be most grateful,” I said.
    We finished the wine. He lurched to his feet and looked out the window.
    “Dark already,” he said. “Your wine is too good, Simon. Point me home.”
    “I’ll walk you,” said Simon, grabbing a cloak. “Good night, Fool. Good night, Claudius.”
    He put his arm around the mercenary’s shoulder and guided him through the door.
    “I enjoyed that,” said Viola, when we settled down in our room. “They were very pleasant for soldiers. And to think, on Saturday I get to see several hundred of them naked. I do so enjoy this life.”
    “Yes, they were pleasant,” I said yawning. “I wonder if any of them was checking up on us.”
    She stretched the twine across the doorway and settled into her corner.
     
    Nothing happened this night. I let her sleep late, the sunbeams crossing her bearded face. I had known an actual bearded woman once, during a short stint with a traveling circus. She had her own little tent, and her boy would stand in front and charge a penny a peek. She’d let the observer tug on her beard to ascertain its veracity, then would sit and chat with her visitor. It was the chat that kept bringing them back, for she had a jolly disposition and a wealth of stories. I think she could have lived off the stories alone, but she welcomed her oddity as it brought her an audience.
    Viola woke and looked at me reproachfully as she realized the time of day.
    “Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked.
    I motioned to a low stool by the bed where I had placed a washbasin.
    “All of the honest folk have gone to work,” I said. “The dishonest folk as well. I thought you might enjoy washing your face before we began our day.”
    She removed the wig and beard, sighing happily, then plunged her face full into the basin. I had procured a bit of soap and a cloth. She scrubbed herself thoroughly, then looked up at me.
    “I must look a horror,” she said.
    “Absolutely beautiful,” I said.
    She snorted. “You’re an expert husband for one who’s been out of