Shakespeare for Squirrels: A Novel (Fool #3)(21)

“Or both,” added Burke, grabbing me by my bicep.

“We found him standing over the Puck, Your Disgrace,” said Blacktooth.

“Your Grace,” corrected Burke. “We encountered the fool on the previous day, as well, conspiring with a group of rude mechanicals, with no passport upon him, and would have arrested him on the spot, but he vanished.”

“Vanished?” Theseus seemed to lose his breath for a moment.

“Not even a puff of smoke,” said Blacktooth. “Just chucked a knife in Burke’s bum and vanished.”

“Did you kill the Puck?” asked the duke.

“Did you?” I replied.

“No, not that I—I sent the watch into the forest to find him.”

“To what end, if I may ask, Your Grace?”

“Well, I . . .” Theseus was not used to answering questions.

“Perhaps you were going to have the Puck entertain at your wedding, Your Grace,” said Egeus.

“Yes,” said Theseus. “That’s it—”

“Not that he was hammering your queen like a blacksmith setting rivets?” said Jones. I pounded the puppet on the table.

“Manners, you wooden-headed ninny,” said I. “Sorry, duke. Do go on.”

The great Greek hero Theseus fluttered his fingers like a flustered dowager feeling dog breath on her naughty bits. “Oh my, no,” said the duke. “My Hippolyta is a most chaste and modest lady.”

“She’s the queen of a race of bloody warrior women who keep men as pets, bonk them for offspring, then make coin purses from their scrotums.”

The tall, blond Amazon behind Theseus who had giggled earlier held up a small brown coin purse and grinned. I shuddered.

“Everyone out!” commanded the duke. “I would speak to this fool alone.”

The guards and watchmen headed for the door.

“Wait,” said the high steward. “Your Grace, the fool could be the assassin. Your safety.”

“Fine. You lot”—the duke waved to the cohort of guards behind his chair—“stay and see that I am not attacked by this flea turd of a fool.”

“Bit harsh,” said I.

All but the four guards, two armed Athenians and two Amazons, scurried out of the room.

“Sit here.” Theseus patted the arm of a chair where the scribe had been sitting. I made my way to his side and sat. “Tell me now, fool, are you of a kind with the Puck?”

“In that he was a fool, possessed of many talents, as am I, yes. But as I am much more handsome and wear proper motley rather than run around the forest dressed in leaves like a savage, no.”

“I see,” said the duke, stroking his short beard.

Theseus, ruler of Athens, slayer of monsters, seemed less sure of himself than I, a half-starving flotsam fool. I knew not why the royals held Robin Goodfellow in such regard, but I would have been foolish indeed not to take shelter in the Puck’s reputation.

A moment passed, the duke glanced over his shoulder at his guards, then motioned for them to move to the far end of the long chamber. When they were in place, he whispered.

“Do you know, did the Puck seduce my Hippolyta?”

“I think not, Your Grace. The puppet was merely making a jest at your expense.” It was not a lie, really. I did not know for a fact that Puck had been bonking the warrior queen. Speaking truth to power is a noble endeavor but of limited utility if one’s head is in a basket.

“Good, good. I took her as a spoil of war, but since the battle she has fired a passion in me I have never before known.”

“Well, she’s a flinty bit of fluff to be sure, and I’ve been well used by a brace of warrior wenches myself in the past. But for the rattling armor and random bossiness, they were quite lovely.”

“So you know? I would possess her, not as a prisoner, but as her lord.”

“A distinction without a difference, to be sure. How may I be of service?”

“Blacktooth tells me you go about the forest at night, is that true?”

“It is.” City of cowering wallies, was Athens, all afraid of the dark.

“Then I would have you find out if the Puck completed a task I sent him on. It can only be done at night.”

“You sent Puck on an errand?”

“He was my jester and servant. I sent him to take a message and fetch a trifling thing from the fairy queen Titania. The fairies can only be found at night.”

That explained Cobweb’s disappearance each dawn. “I’m your man,” said I. “Messages and fetching are well within my wheelhouse. What’s the message? I can compose it into a bawdy limerick if you prefer. There was a young fellow called Bucket—”

“No, you don’t need to know the message, just whether Titania received it. And she will know the thing you are to fetch and give it to you if she sees fit. Tell her the Puck did not have it with him.”

“Honored to be of service,” said I. “I will need my apprentice to accompany me, of course. He is held in your dungeon and I will need him for navigation and protection.”

“I think not,” said the duke. “Blacktooth has told me of your simple giant. He will stay here to assure your return.”

“Oh balls!” said I, somewhat disappointed.