An Antic Disposition Read Online Free PDF Page B

up suddenly with an expression of alarm and held a finger to his lips. “Careful, milady,” he said in an exaggerated whisper. “There is some sort of creature clinging to you.”
    “Amleth,” she said. “Don’t hide. Come and meet the jester.”
    A small boy peeped timidly around her skirts, thumb in his mouth. He was about two, with jet-black hair from his mother and skin almost as pale as the fool’s, only without the help of powder. He looked up uncertainly at the apparition in motley.
    “Amleth, is it?” said Terence gently. “A pleasure, milord. I believe I have something for you.” The boy watched him as he reached into his pouch and produced a brightly painted ball like the ones he used for juggling. He held it out. The boy hesitated.
    “Take it, Amleth,” urged Gerutha, but the boy held back.
    Terence smiled, and sat down on the floor so that he was looking directly at the boy. He held the ball out again. Slowly, the boy detached himself and approached the fool, suspecting a trick. He reached for the ball, and took it, taking his thumb out of his mouth to turn the plaything over and over, watching the patterns.
    “Hello, Amleth,” said Terence, holding out his hand. “I am Terence of York.”
    The boy looked up from the ball to the good-natured face of the fool.
    “Yorick,” said the child.
    Terence shook his head. “Terence,” he repeated. “Of York.”
    Amleth looked at him and darkened, his expression suddenly combative.
    “ Yorick,” he insisted stubbornly.
    Terence smiled.
    “Well, then,” he said, “Yorick it is.”

Three
    “But look, amazement on thy mother sits."
    —Hamlet, Act III, Scene IV
Slesvig, 1157 AD.
    D id you see him ?” Gerutha said to her husband as she undressed that night. “I have never seen Amleth take to anyone as he took to that jester. He is usually so frightened of strangers.”
    Ørvendil grunted, watching her as he lay under the covers. He was a large bear of a man, scarcely distinguishable from the pile of furs that served as their bed.
    “I don’t like it,” he said as she slid next to him, wrapping her limbs around his body for warmth. “He is surrounded by warriors, men of arms, great men. Yet he hides behind his mothers skirts and only comes out when some painted freak throws a ball to him. Is this the future king of Denmark?”
    “Maybe you should throw a ball to him once in a while,” said Gerutha. “He’s only two. The way you storm around, it’s no wonder that he’s frightened. Grown men are frightened of you.”
    “Yet you are not?” he said. He rolled quickly, pinning her under him. “Not frightened of a king?”
    She smiled up at him.
    “I would be unworthy of your attentions if I was,” she whispered. And you are not a king yet, she thought, and then closed her eyes as they began to make love.
----
    “ W ho is he ?” Ørvendil asked idly the next day as he surveyed the fjord from atop the archers’ nest at the eastern wall.
    “An irritant,” replied Gorm. “A powdered scarecrow who makes his living from cheap tricks and ballads.”
    “Where is he from?”
    “He says ‘’fork. The guard at the western wall said he came from that direction.”
    “And before he reached the wall?” asked Ørvendil. “West, north, south, what? You’re supposed to be my spymaster. What else do you know about him? Could he be a spy?”
    “He hasn’t been behaving like one,” said Gorm. “He’s been entertaining at The Viking’s Rest ever since he arrived. He hasn’t been wandering about the town asking questions.”
    “He doesn’t have to if he’s at the tavern,” snapped Ørvendil. “Everyone goes there. All the information anyone could possibly need will come spilling out by the third drink. And now he’s wormed his way onto the island. How did that happen?”
    “Your wife invited him,” said Gorm. “She thought it would make it more like a real court.”
    Ørvendil turned to him in rage. Gorm didn’t flinch.
    “A real