The young man, now dressed in jester’s motley except for the usual cap and bells, paused to watch the spectacle of Pellenore sparring with empty air for an instant, then asked the old king, amused, “May I inquire what you’re doing?”
Pellenore, breathlessly fighting his nonexistent beast, inhaled deeply and explained, “Protecting you.”
“Me? I don’t believe we’ve met. Why should you feel bound to protect me from-from-whatever it is you’re protecting me from?”
Not missing a beat in his swordfight with his sphinx, Pellenore explained, “They are most ravenous beasts. They devour humans, you know. I am protecting everyone in the castle. I am the only one who can see her, you see.”
“I see.” John took a step back away from the old man. “I’d be careful with that sword, though. You could do a lot of damage to those of us you want to protect.”
“Pellenore,” said the old king.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I am King Pellenore. I live here.”
“Oh. I see. And I am John of Paintonbury, King Arthur’s satirist.”
“Satirist? Why are you dressed as a court fool?”
John stiffened. “It appears to me that that position may already be filled.”
“Where is your cap and bells?”
“The ringing gives me headaches.”
“And what does Arthur need with a ‘satirist’ when there are so many fools here already?”
“I am to mock pretension. Puncture false pride. Ridicule the power hungry. Belittle the arrogant.”
“Watch out! Duck!” Pellenore caught John by the arm and threw him to the floor, where he struck his elbow.
Rubbing it, he got back to this feet. “What on earth did you do that for? If you weren’t an old man, I’d-”
“She almost slashed you with her tail. They have venomous barbs in them, you know.”
“They-meaning sphinxes?”
Just at that moment Merlin entered the refectory. “Paintonbury, we’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
In his best ironic manner, John said, “I’ve been helping this old madman fight off a dragon.”
“Sphinx,” Pellenore corrected.
“Yes, sphinx.”
“And you are nothelping me.” Pellenore thrust again at the nonexistent monster. “I’m protecting you.”
Merlin, amused that John seemed to be in over his head, told him, “Arthur wants you.”
“The king?” The jester stepped aside to avoid another of Pellenore’s stabs.
“The king is the only Arthur we have.” Merlin could not hide the fact that he found the scene entertaining. “He wants you. He is having a meeting with Bishop Gildas and myself, and he wants you there. I cannot imagine why, but for once I will enjoy having you around. You can have at Gildas all you want, with my blessing. Arthur says it is time for you to start learning how things are done at Camelot.”
Watching Pellenore warily, John answered, “I can see how things are done here.”
“Do not be too hasty to judge, John. Madness is in the eye of the beholder.”
John was lost. “Do you mean to say there really is a beast here?”
“No. There is none.” Pellenore produced a kerchief and mopped his brow. “I have driven it off.”
Merlin took John by the hand and adopted a mock-friendly manner. “Come along, jester. You are plainly out of your depth here, and Arthur wants you.”
Numbly, dumbly, John went with him.
They walked silently for a few moments. Then Paintonbury couldn’t resist asking, “Who is that old fool?”
“Do you mean my friend Pellenore?”
“What other old fool would I mean?”
Merlin sighed. “You would do well to tone down your professional derision until you learn your way around better. From what I hear, you have made some powerful enemies already.”
“There is at least one kitchen girl who likes me.” Paintonbury put on a lascivious leer.
“The kitchen servants won’t keep you alive. Do you not understand the difference between satire and schoolboy nastiness?”
This seemed to be a new thought. “You are saying I should tone down my ridicule.”
“It might not be a bad idea. You might last longer.”
“Do you mean last as Arthur’s jester, or simply last?”
They reached Arthur’s tower and began the ascent to the king’s chambers. Merlin decided to change the subject. “Have you met Bishop Gildas yet?”
“No, I haven’t had that privilege.”
“He is a peculiar man. Some would even say delusional. He seems actually to believe he can unseat Morgan le Fay as England’s spiritual leader.”
“And what do you think? Will he do it?”
“I think,” Merlin said slowly and deliberately, “that you may find him the ideal object of satire.” He couldn’t resist adding, “Assuming that what you do actually qualifies as satire.”
John bristled at this. “I know you think I’m a country bumpkin. Everyone does. But I can read. That is more than most of these knights and nobles can say. And we had a first-rate schoolmaster in our town. I’ve studied the Greek and Roman classics. Juvenal was more harsh on his subjects than I am. So was Martial. They didn’t hesitate to mock the imperial court.”
“You surprise me, John.” Merlin looked at him with new eyes. “There is more to you than I thought.”
“Merlin, I know it. You judged me much too quickly. So much for your reputation for wisdom.”
“For once, I deserve your ridicule. But here we are. Arthur and Gildas will be in the king’s study. If you think I merit your barbs, just wait till you meet Gildas.”
“I thought you didn’t want to encourage me.”
“Whatever else I may be, I am a practical man, John.” Arthur and Gildas were seated at the table in Arthur’s study, waiting impatiently for Merlin and John to join them. Gildas, looking more thin and gaunt than usual, was dressed in flowing robes of crimson silk. When they entered, Gildas barked at them, “Here you are at last. You should know better than to keep the king waiting.”
“The king?” Merlin’s eyes twinkled. “How nice of you to be concerned for him. Or-is it possible you are more concerned over being kept waiting yourself?” Then, not waiting for an answer, he turned to the king. “I have written to Peter of Darrowfield, Arthur. I have not heard from him in days, and I want to know what progress he has made in his investigation of the murders.”
“We can discuss that later, Merlin.”
“Surely you do not want the slaying of a peer to be ignored?”
“Later. We have other things to discuss.” He smiled at John. “Have a seat, jester. Welcome to your first private meeting of state. Have you met Bishop Gildas?”
“No, I haven’t had the… honor.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
Arthur made a show of introducing them and of explaining to Gildas that John was to become a permanent resident at Camelot. “Like yourself,” he added.
Gildas stiffened. “Are you comparing me to a mere court fool? And a boy, at that?”
Merlin laughed; he couldn’t help it.
John, unruffled, said, “I have heard about your belief system, Bishop. And it must all be true. What startling honesty.”
Gildas narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What do you mean?”
John grinned. “You wear robes of the color associated with whores.”
Merlin laughed again, out loud. Even Arthur chuckled at this. Gildas was fuming but it was obvious to him that he was expected to put up with the jester’s barbs.
Struggling to control his pique-and it showed-he turned to Arthur. “Your Majesty, you have summoned me here to discuss this plague we are facing.”
All the amusement disappeared from Arthur’s face. “How do you know what I want?”
“I do not know it, sire. I divine it. This visitation is all anyone is talking about. I have heard that Morgan le Fay thinks the plague has been brought about by a certain pagan relic in your possession. A certain stone, carved in the shape of a human skull. Is this not correct?”