Robin Hobb - The Complete Tawny Man Trilogy - Fool’s Errand, The Golden Fool, Fool’s Fate

I was halfway up the stair when I heard a familiar voice in conversation. I halted and then leaned on the balustrade to look down. Unbidden, a smile came to my face. Queen Kettricken strode through the hall below, half a dozen ladies struggling valiantly to keep pace with her. I knew none of her ladies; they were all young, none much past twenty. They had been children when last I was at Buckkeep. One looked vaguely familiar, but perhaps I had known her mother. My gaze fixed on the Queen.

Kettricken’s shining hair, still gloriously golden, was looped and pinned about her head in a crown of braids. She wore a simple circlet of silver upon her head. She was dressed in russet brown with an embroidered yellow kirtle, and her skirts rustled as she walked. Her ladies emulated her simple style without being able to capture it for it was Kettricken’s innate grace that lent elegance to her unpretentious garb. Despite the years that had passed, her posture and stride were still upright and unfettered. She walked with purpose, but I saw a stillness captured in her face. Some part of her was constantly aware of her missing son, and yet she still moved through the court as a queen. My heart stood still at the sight of her. I thought how proud Verity would be of this woman and, ‘Oh, my queen,’ I breathed to myself.

She halted in midstride and I almost heard the intake of her breath. She glanced about and then up, her eyes meeting mine across the distance. In the shadow of the Great Hall, I could not see her blue gaze, but somehow I felt it. For an instant our eyes locked, but her face held puzzlement, not recognition.

I felt the sudden thwack of fingers against the side of my head. I turned to my attacker, too amazed to be angry. A gentleman of the court, taller than I, looked down on me in sharp disapproval. His words were clipped. ‘You are obviously new to Buckkeep, oaf. Here, the servants are not permitted to stare so brazenly at the Queen. Be about your business. After this, remember your place, or soon you will have no place to remember.’

I looked down at the tray of food I gripped, struggling to control my face. Anger drenched me. I knew that my face had darkened with blood. It took every bit of my will to avert my eyes and bob my head. ‘Your pardon, sir. I will remember.’ I hoped he took my strangled voice for crushed humiliation rather than rage. Gripping the sides of the tray tightly, I continued my journey up the stairs as he went down and did not allow myself to glance over the balustrade to see if my queen watched me go.

A servant. A servant. I am a loyal, well-trained manservant. I am newly come from the country, but well recommended, so I am a mannered servant, accustomed to discipline. Accustomed to humiliation . Or was I? When I had followed Lord Golden into Buckkeep, Verity’s blade in its plain scabbard had hung at my side. Surely, some would have marked that. My complexion and the scars on my hands marked me as a man who lived more out of doors than in. If I was to play this role, then it must be believable. It must be a role I could endure, as well as one I could act convincingly.

At Lord Golden’s door, I knocked, paused discreetly to allow my master to expect me, then entered. The Fool was at the casement looking out. I closed the door carefully behind me, latched it and then set down the tray on the table. As I began to lay out the meal, I spoke to his back. ‘I am Tom Badgerlock, your servant. I was recommended to you as a fellow who was educated above his station by an indulgent master, but kept more for his blade than his manners. You chose me because you wanted a manservant capable of being your bodyguard as well as your valet. You have heard that I am moody and occasionally quick-tempered, but you are willing to try me to see if I will serve your purpose. I am … forty-two years old. The scars I bear I took defending my last master from an attack by three – no, six – highwaymen. I killed them all. I am not a man to be provoked lightly. When my last master died, he left me a small bequest that enabled me to live simply. But now my son has come of age, and I wished to apprentice him in Buckkeep Town. You persuaded me to return to service as a way to defray my expenses.’

Lord Golden had turned from the window. His aristocratic hands clasped one another as he listened to my soliloquy. When I had finished, he nodded. ‘I like it, Tom Badgerlock. Such a coup for Lord Golden, to have a manservant who is just a tiny bit dangerous to keep about. Such an air shall I put on over having hired such a man! You will do, Tom. You will do well.’

He advanced to the table, and I drew his chair out for him. He seated himself, and looked over the setting and dishes I had prepared for him. ‘Excellent. This is exactly to my liking. Tom, keep this up, and I shall have to raise your wages.’ He lifted his gaze to meet mine. ‘Sit down and eat with me,’ the Fool suggested.

I shook my head. ‘Best I practise my manners, sir. Tea?’

For an instant the Fool looked horrified. Then Lord Golden lifted a napkin and patted at his lips. ‘Please.’

I poured for him.

‘This son of yours, Tom. I have not met him. He’s in Buckkeep Town, is he?’

‘I told him to follow me here, sir.’ I suddenly realized I had told Hap little more than that. He would arrive with a weary old pony pulling a rickety cart with an ageing wolf in it. I had not gone to Jinna’s niece, to ask her to expect him. What if she took affront at my assumption that my boy could come there? Like a wave breaking over me, my other life caught up with me. I’d made no provisions for him. He knew no one else in Buckkeep Town, save Starling, and I did not even know if she was currently in residence here. Besides, with relations strained between us, Hap was unlikely to turn to her for aid.

Suddenly I knew I had to seek out the hedge-witch and be sure my boy would be accepted there. I’d leave a message for Hap with her. And I had to approach Chade immediately about making provisions for him. Given what I knew now, it seemed a cold bargain and my heart shrank within me at the thought of it. I could always borrow the money from the Fool. I winced at the thought. Just what are my wages? I prompted myself to ask. But the words could not find their way to my tongue.

Lord Golden pushed back from his table. ‘You are quiet, Tom Badgerlock. When your son does arrive, I expect you to present him to me. For now, I think I shall let you have this first morning to yourself. Tidy up here, get to know the castle and the grounds.’ He looked me over critically. ‘Fetch me paper, quill and ink. I will write you a letter of credit to Scrandon the tailor. I expect you will find his shop easily enough. You knew it of old. You need to be measured for more clothing, some for everyday, and some for when I want you to show well. If you are bodyguard as well as valet, then I think it fitting that you stand behind my chair at formal dinners and accompany me when I ride. And go also to Croys. He has a weapons stall down near the smithy’s lane. Look through his used swords and find yourself a serviceable blade.’

I nodded to each of his orders. I went to a small desk in the corner to set out pen and ink for my master. Behind me, the Fool spoke quietly. ‘Both Hod’s work and Verity’s blade are likely to be too well remembered here at Buckkeep Castle. I’d advise you to keep that blade in Chade’s old tower room.’

I did not look at him as I replied. ‘I shall. And I shall also be speaking to the Weaponsmaster, to ask him to provide me a practice partner. I shall tell him my skills are a bit rusty and you want me to sharpen them. Who was Prince Dutiful’s drill partner?’

The Fool knew. He always knew things like that. He spoke as he took his seat at the writing desk. ‘Cresswell was his instructor, but he paired him most often with a young woman named Delleree. But you can’t very well ask for her by name … hmm. Tell him you’d like to work with someone who fights with two swords, to sharpen your defence skills. I believe that is her speciality.’