James Patterson - The Jester

“Are you concerned,” she said with a laugh, “that I may not be a high enough match for you?”

“Of course not, I just…”

‘‘I was born in Paris, if you must know. I am the fourth child, with two brothers and a sister, all older. My father is remarkable, but not for the reasons you may suspect.”

“He is a noble, that much I know. A member of the royal court?”

“He is important; leave it at that. And educated. But sometimes his vision is as narrow as a fly’s.”

“You are the baby.” I winked. “And yet you have wandered away from the nest.”

“The nest is not always a welcome place.” Emilie looked away. “At least not for a woman down the pecking order. What [272] is there for me except to be educated in lofty arts and concepts I will never use? Or to be married off for gain to some old sod twice my age. Can you see me entertaining and receiving gifts from gassy old coots?”

“I have met only two duchesses,” I said, beaming, “and you outshine them in both beauty and heart.”

She put her palm against mine, and we held it there, for a moment, in silence. Then Emilie pushed me away. “Make me laugh, will you?”

“Make you laugh?”

“Yes. You were a jester. Quite a decent one.” Her eyes shined. “Come on. It shouldn’t be hard for you.”

“It’s not so easy,” I protested. “I mean, you just don’t blurt out a joke, in a place like this, and have it succeed.”

“Are you embarrassed, then? With me…? Come.” She pinched my arm. “It is only us. I will close my eyes. In all the world, it should not be so hard to know what will make me smile.”

Emilie closed her eyes with her chin raised. I stared at her face, the delicate yellow hair falling off her shoulder.

I felt my breath come to a halt.

She was incredibly lovely… And kind, generous, smart as a whip.

All of a sudden, there was nothing between us: no words, no barriers, just our two beating hearts. I placed my hand on her hip. Nervously-I prayed she would not take offense-I moved it up her side, over the curve of her waist.

She made no move to resist. I felt the strangest urge come over me. My breath was tight, my spine tingling. Had I felt this from the start? From the first moment I opened my eyes and saw her face?

I moved my hand over her shoulder and let it fall gently against the round of her breast. I felt her heart quiver. I had felt this only once before. Yet here it was again.

Slowly I placed my mouth upon her lips.

[273] Emilie did not resist, only moved closer, her mouth softly parting. Our tongues seemed to merge and dance as softly as clouds meeting in the sky.

She put her hand on my cheek, her breath as heavy as my own. Her skin smelled of lavender and balsam. In the warm rush of our kiss, I felt a new world open to me.

In a breath, we pulled away. She smiled. “You take advantage of me. I was warned of such country boys.”

“Tell me to wake up,” I said. “I know I am in a dream.”

“Wake up, then.” She placed my hand upon her heart. “And know that this is real.”

My own heart almost exploded with joy. I could not believe what was happening.

Then I heard the loud peal of church bells coming from town.

I KNEW SUCH A SOUND was a call of warning.

My mind jolted back to reality. I frantically rose to my knees and looked down toward the village. I saw no riders. No sign of panic yet. We were not under attack.

But a crowd was forming in the square. Something had happened.

“Come.” I pulled Emilie up. “We have to get back.”

We ran down the hill as fast as we could. As soon as I came within earshot of town I heard my name shouted.

Georges ran up to me. “Hugh, they’re coming. Men from Borée are on the way.”

I looked at Emilie, then back at Georges. “How do you know this?”

“Someone is here to warn us. Come, quick, in the church. He looks for you.”

Georges ran with me into the main square. The town had assembled there, and voices rang out, panicked and afraid.

I pushed through the crowd around the church and came upon a young man resting on the steps. No more than sixteen, panting, clearly out of breath. When he saw me, he stood up and eyed me.

“You are Hugh,” the boy said. “I can tell by your red hair.”

[275] “I am,” I answered. He looked vaguely familiar. “You come from Borée?”

“Yes.” The boy nodded. “I have run the whole way. I am sent by your friend Norbert, the jester.”

“Norbert sent you?” I went up to him and stood close. “What news do you bring?”

“He said to tell you they are coming. For everyone to prepare.”

“I must try and go back,” Emilie said, clutching my arm. “I must tell them it’s a mistake.”

“You cannot.” The boy shook his head, alarmed. “Norbert said you must not return. That Stephen knows you are here. You were followed. The duke’s guard is on the way. They will be here tonight, perhaps. Latest tomorrow.”

Frantic cries rose in the crowd. A woman fainted. Martin the tailor pointed at me. “Now what? This is your work, Hugh. What are we to do?”

“Fight,” I shouted back. “This is what we expected.”

There was whimpering and worried faces. Wives sought out their husbands and clutched children to their bosoms.

“We are prepared,” I said. “These men come to take away what is ours. We will not bow down to them.”

Dread hung over the crowd. Then Odo stepped forward. He looked around, tapped the head of his hammer on the ground. “I’m with you. So is my hammer!”

“I-I’m with you too,” said Alphonse. “And my sharpened ax.”

“And I,” cried Apples.

They ran toward their positions as the rest of the crowd remained still. Then others followed, one by one.

I turned back to the messenger. “How do I know you are who you say? That you’ve come from Norbert? You say the lady Emilie was followed. This could be a trick.”

“You know my face, Hugh. I am Lucien, the baker’s boy. I sought to apprentice with Norbert.”

[276] “Apprentices can be bought,” I challenged him further.

“Norbert said you would press me. So he sent proof. Something of value to you that could come from no one other than him.”

He reached behind him on the church steps and unwound a woolen blanket.

A smile curled on my face. Norbert was right. What the boy had brought was of great value to me. I had not seen it since I left Borée in the middle of the night.

Lucien was holding my staff.

IN THE NEXT FEW HOURS, the town bustled with a purpose I had not seen before.

Bales of sharpened stakes were dragged to positions just inside the stone bridge and driven into the ground. Sacks filled with rocks were readied in the trees. Those who could shoot sharpened their arrows and stocked their quivers; those who could not sat with hoes and mallets in their hands.

By the time night fell, everyone was nervous but prepared.

The plan was for old folk and some of the women and young children to flee to the woods before the first sign of trouble. I told Emilie she had to go too. But when the time came, no one would leave.

“I’m staying with you.” Emilie shook her head. She had torn her dress at the hem and sleeves to move about more easily. “I can stack arrows. I can distribute arms.”

“These men are killers,” I said, trying to reason with her. “They’ll make no distinction between noble and common. This is not your fight.”

“You are wrong. The distinction between noble and common is clear here today,” she replied with that same unbending resolve as when she rescued me at Borée. “And it has become my fight.”