The Moneylender of Toulouse (30 page)

We went on for what seemed like hours, exhausting our repertory and ourselves. I saw people reaching for coins at its close, and held up my hands.

“Today is Christmas!” I shouted. “We accept no money. This is the gift of fools to their fellows! Now, a final hymn.”

But as we began it, a martial rhythm interfered. A tramping of heavy boots on stones, growing ever nearer. The song faded without concluding, and uneasy looks passed among the crowd. In the center of the square, the five of us instinctively drew together.

“Soldiers!” cried Helga, spotting them.

“I said this was madness,” moaned Jordan. “You knew that throwing the Feast in the Bishop's face would have consequences. You have doomed us all.”

“The Bishop has no soldiers,” I said. “Let's see what this is all about.”

Claudia ran and gathered Portia from Martine's arms, then ran back to me and took my hand.

“Is that Calvet at their head?” she asked.

“Looks like it,” I said. Pelardit was on my right. I leaned over to him and whispered, “Do you see her?”

He nodded.

“Good,” I said. “You know what to do.”

Calvet in full regalia marched through the parted crowd, a squad of twenty soldiers wearing the Count's colors in tight formation behind him. They stopped ten feet in front of us, and the baile looked at us with contempt.

“A happy Christmas to you, Senhor Baile,” I said, bowing. “We missed you at services this morning.”

“The next word I hear from you will be your last,” he sneered. “Take that one. And the woman.”

“No!” screamed Jordan as four soldiers stepped forward to seize him.

“What are you doing?” screamed Martine as two more put her in chains. “Jordan? What did you do?”

“By the authority of Count Raimon the Sixth, I arrest the fool Jordan and his wife, Martine, on the charges of murdering Milon Borsella and Armand de Quinto!” shouted Calvet. “They are to be taken to assizes and held for judgment.”

“But I was with him!” shouted Jordan, pointing to me. “Both times, I was with him! Tell him, Fool!”

“Senhor Baile, he speaks the truth,” I said, stepping forward. “I will stand witness for him.”

He gave me a backhanded blow to the jaw that knocked me down.

“I told you to be quiet, Fool!” he shouted. “Anyone else who interferes will join these two.”

He turned and strode away.

“My children!” wailed Martine as they dragged them away. “My boys.”

“I'll watch them, Martine!” Claudia cried after her. “It will be all right, I promise.”

The boys were huddled together and crying by the cart with the props. Helga ran over to comfort them. Claudia turned to me, a look of horror on her face. I got to my feet, rubbing my jaw. God's payback for hitting a priest, I suppose. I was lucky that the baile had chosen not to wear mailed gauntlets today. Another Christmas gift for Theo. Hooray.

“What now?” asked Claudia.

I looked around the square. Pelardit had vanished.

“You and Helga take the boys back to our place,” I said. “I'm going to see what I can do.”

“Which place?”

“Might as well go to Honoret's,” I said. “There's no hiding us now.”

The crowd was chattering excitedly and looking in our direction. We loaded up the cart and put the children in it, then harnessed it to the ass.

“Be careful,” I said.

She nodded, and took the ass's reins. Helga trailed them, glancing over her shoulder at me.

A fool and a novitiate guarding three children against the world. My money was on the women. I looked around the square at our remaining audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that concludes our entertainment for today,” I said. “But we will be back. You may count on it.”

I bowed and walked quickly toward the Grande Rue, ignoring all questions. Some people straggled after me, but eventually gave up.

*   *   *

It was late afternoon, and people were hurrying home for Christmas dinners with their families. The taverns were closed to outside business, but I knew a place where there would be wine aplenty, and I was prepared to deplete the supply in my quest.

I pulled a half-emptied wineskin from my pack and swished enough around my mouth to bring my breath to its normal stench, then staggered up a flight of steps to a familiar door and pounded on it repeatedly.

“Open up, you old sod!” I shouted. “It's Christmas, and I've brought a full wineskin. Well, it was full when I bought it, but there's plenty left. Come on, you bastard, let me in!”

Pelardit opened the door, looking perturbed as I fell through it into his arms.

“Happy Christmas, you old fool!” I roared, grappling him in a bear hug. “Were we not magnificent today? Toulouse will never forget what we accom, accom, what we did in that square. Why—good God, there's a lady present!”

He shrugged apologetically as I saw Audrica sitting on the edge of his bed, giggling at my display.

“Why, 'tis the Lady Audrica,” I said, bowing low and nearly toppling in the effort, which served to increase the giggling. “Delighted to see you. Pelardit, what debauchery have I stumbled into?”

He waved his hands frenetically in denial.

“Come, come, you rascal,” I said, elbowing him in the ribs. “What better way to celebrate Our Savior's birth than with a lovely maid? Why, were I not married, I would be honored, nay, exalted to be at the side of such a one. Lady Audrica, I must salute you properly.”

I knelt before her, took her head between my hands and kissed her. I tasted the wine she had been drinking. Good.

“Nectar of the gods!” I sighed.

“And why are you not with your wife?” she said teasingly, pushing me away but not protesting.

“Kicked me out!” I bellowed. “Kicked me out for demanding what any husband is due from his wife on Christmas. And on any day that's not Christmas, when it comes right down to it. Said I was drunk! Me, drunk!”

I took another swallow from the wineskin and passed it to her. She upended it like she had seen one before.

“She has no sense then, Senhor,” she pronounced, belching prettily. “Why, if only wives would perform their wifely duties, then sin would be no more.”

“Spoken like one who understands marriage from without,” I said. “Well, maybe this fool will be the man for you, eh? How came this to pass? Why aren't you at Bazacle?”

“Arnaut lets us have the day off every Christmas,” she said, taking another swig from the wineskin. She made as if to pass it on, but we indicated for her to keep on drinking. She obliged us.

“A most generous master,” I said. “A strange man, but a jolly one. I liked him tremendously.”

“Oh, his generosity of spirit knows no bounds,” she said. “Why, I could tell you things.”

“Really?” I exclaimed as Pelardit nuzzled her neck and ran his fingers up and down her thigh. “Has the Master of Bazacle been especially generous to pretty little Audrica? Have there been delightful little gifts?”

“Oh, you are a naughty pair, aren't you?” she said. “Just what I wanted for Christmas. I was so surprised when Pelardit accosted me, but he has always been such a dear fool, and I thought, why not?”

“It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?” I said, winking at Pelardit. “I hope your fiancé doesn't mind his borrowing you.”

“Oh, him,” she laughed. “He's a bigger fool than any of you. Thinks I'm an angel from Heaven. He forgets what happens to angels when they fall.”

“Is your master a devil, then?” I asked. “I knew he was no angel, but I thought him merely a man.”

“Oh, he's more than a man,” she confided. “Like a bull. Why, whenever he has one of his little meetings he—oh, but I'm not supposed to tell.”

“Drink up, milady,” I said. “And don't worry about us. Confessing to a fool is like confessing to a priest, only safer.”

“Ah, priests,” she said, dismissing the entire clergy with a wave of her hand. “They might as well be celibate. I've never had one who was any good.”

“So you've entertained the clergy at Bazacle, have you?” I asked.

“Not supposed to tell,” she sang, waving a finger at me.

“And a consul or two, I'll warrant.”

“Oh, that was a night, let me tell you,” she said. “There was, let me see, Pons and Guilhem and, whatshisname, Bonet.”

“Milon's brother?”

“Right,” she said, suddenly sad. “Milon. Poor, poor Milon.”

“Tell me about Milon,” I said. “What was he like?”

“Never knew,” she said. “Would have liked him. He seemed nice. Came to the château a lot, but always about money, money, money.”

“Did he and Arnaut argue about money?”

She nodded, almost falling with the motion.

“What happened to Milon?” I asked.

She was drifting off. I shook her a little, and she looked up at me like a child and smiled.

“What happened to Milon?” I asked her.

“Told Evrard about him,” she said dreamily. “Wasn't, wasn't true, but he'd believe anything I'd tell him, stupid boy.”

“What did you tell Evrard about Milon?” I asked.

“Told him he took me by force,” she said. “Wish he had for real. He was a handsome man.”

“Who told you to tell him that, Audrica?” I asked her softly.

“My master,” she said. Then she leaned back into Pelardit's arms and started to snore.

CHAPTER 14

Pelardit eased the sleeping maid onto his bed, then pulled her legs up so that she was lying comfortably. We looked at her for a moment.

“How much did you give her?” I asked.

He held his thumb and forefinger apart an inch.

“That should keep her out until morning,” I said. “Are you ready for the next part?”

He nodded, looking at her regretfully, then pulled off her shoes and began to undress her. I poured some water into a basin and scrubbed my makeup off. I patted my face dry, then stripped off my motley and pulled on some normal workman's clothing. I selected a brown wig with hair much longer than my own from the collection on Pelardit's shelves, then glued on a matching mustache.

“How do I look?” I asked, turning back to Pelardit.

He was staring down at the now nude form of Audrica, a look of reverence on his face.

“Come on, it hasn't been that long,” I said.

He puffed out his cheeks, deflated them in a long, dying whistle, then threw a blanket over her and began taking his motley off.

“I should be less than half an hour, there and back,” I said. “Don't fall asleep. And don't do anything you'll regret.”

He nodded. I went out the door and closed it softly behind me.

The sun was beginning to set as I reached the entrance to the courtyard of the Borsella place. The children were being summoned inside. I waited and watched. Evrard came out, his keys in his hand, and came to lock the gate. He hesitated as he saw me.

“May I help you?” he asked. “We distributed alms earlier, but I might be able to find something in the kitchen.”

“Thought I might help you,” I said in a low voice. “You're that Evrard, aren't you?”

“Who are you?” he asked.

“One who would be your friend,” I said. “Closing up shop for the night, I see.”

“This is no shop,” he snapped. “And I will trouble you to—”

“You're the one with the troubles,” I said. “World of troubles rolled into one lovely lass.”

He went very still.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I'm the messenger of misery, the bad news bearer,” I said. “She's been pulling the wool over your eyes, boy, and I'm here to cure your blindness. Just like Our Savior did, only I do it with the laying on of words, not hands.”

“Where is she? Is she safe?”

“As to the second question, do you mean is she safe from danger or is she something other than dangerous in her own right?” I asked. “Yes to the first, depending on what you call danger. No to the second, as are all of Eve's rotten daughters. As to the where, I'm willing to show you, but the information grows stale fast, 'cause she'll be moving on to the next one soon if I'm any judge of drabs.”

“You lie!” he shouted, lunging at my throat, and I skipped back a few steps to avoid him.

“Now, that's no way to treat your new best friend,” I admonished him. “Do that again, and I won't tell you who her lover is.”

“You know this for a fact,” he said.

“Any man can say a thing and call it a fact,” I said. “I can show you the thing and let you decide for yourself. You coming?”

He pulled the gate shut behind him and locked it.

“Take me to her,” he growled.

“I am your servant,” I said, bowing. “Follow me.”

I led him through the Portaria as the bells for Vespers rang through the city. The gates closed behind us, sealing the town from the bourg. I led Evrard to Pelardit's place.

“You know, the first time I came to Toulouse, I was on a pilgrimage to Compostela,” I said conversationally. “Just a kid. We'd been walking all day, and I was thirsty as hell. Saw a pond right after we came through the gate, so I ran down and plunged my hands into the water and drank like there was no tomorrow. Worst water I ever had. Tasted like a cow had died in it. Looked up to see a bunch of fellows laughing their asses off at my expression. It was a tanner's pit. I spent the rest of the day heaving my guts out. Damn near died. That was my welcome to Toulouse.”

“What's the point of all this?” he asked me.

“No point,” I said. “Just talking. I mean, it's like that girl of yours. You think she's a long, cool drink of spring water waiting for you at the end of a hot day, but she's poison below the surface, boy. I saw her drinking with that fool, the one who doesn't talk. Had her hands all over him. He took her up here, not an hour ago, and she looked like she had more than an hour's worth of fun to give him. She's played you for a fool, and with a fool to boot. Here's the door. Shall we knock first?”