The Fool's Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B

short, sighing laugh brought on a fit of coughing. ‘Here! Come here! Feste, lad? Can it be you?’ He blinked, confused again. ‘Am I dreaming? Or am I already in the other place?’
    ‘ In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Aye, ’tis me.’
    ‘You old knave.’ Sir Toby reached up to hug and kiss the clown as he did every night. ‘To think I never thought to set eyes on you again! Dear me! It does me good just to see you. Better than any doctor’s jalap. Good jests we had, my boy, did we not? Merry times. Tell me, do you have your instruments? Pipe and tabor?’
    ‘I do, Sir Toby.’
    ‘I would have a tune, then. Something with life in it. And we’ll sing a song. An old one: “Three Merry Men”, or “The Baffled Knight”, or some such. A bawdy rhyme, eh? Something to make us laugh. Here, give me your arm, help me sit up. Maria! Bring me an egg beat up in some sack. I think I can manage that. God’s blood, I feel better already.’ He looked past the clown to the room beyond. ‘Do you bring someone with you? My eyes have grown dim of late, but my ears are sharp. I could have sworn I heard another voice, a woman’s . . .’
    ‘It’s only Maria,’ Feste said. ‘No one else.’
    He laid the old man back gently. Sir Toby’s moment of lucidity was over; he was back to muttering and plucking at the covers. Feste put the flute to his mouth and played a few plaintive notes. Then he began to sing a nonsense rhyme, as might be sung to a child. Sir Toby’s agitation began to subside. His ragged breathing steadied and his eyelids fluttered and closed.
    Violetta was careful to keep out of the way. Her presence upset him. When he first saw her he shrank back, whispering that he was, indeed, in Hell, and had fallen to raving, calling her ‘Devil’s spawn’, ordering her ‘Away! Away!’ and saying that she was there to torment him. He had thrashed about so wildly that Feste’d had to restrain him or he would have tumbled from the bed.
    Even Maria had been shocked by his reaction. ‘He’s likely confusing you with your mother. You do look just like her.’
    That did not explain his upset, but Maria could not guess at the reason, his mind being so distempered. She’d shepherded Violetta out of the room, leaving Feste with him. While the clown played and sang to the old man, Violetta had told Maria her story.
    ‘He’s been bad today,’ Maria said again. ‘Sir Andrew has been here.’ She spoke quietly, as if he was still there and could hear. ‘I didn’t mean to listen, but the walls are thin.’ She paused, pressing her hand to her mouth. ‘Some things it is better not to hear.’
    ‘Sir Andrew?’ Violetta asked. Maria had not mentioned him before. Until now, he had just been a name in a story.
    ‘He hasn’t been here for more than a year. You won’t remember him. He left Illyria before you were born. He was there to court Lady Olivia and was not best pleased when she married another. Not that he stood any chance, but Sir Toby encouraged him, while busy spending his fortune. He was a bit of a fool then, Sir Toby and Feste making merry at his expense.’ Maria gave a fleeting ghost of a smile as if recalling happier times, but then her face grew serious again.
    ‘The Sir Andrew I knew was a drunkard and a wastrel, but he’s grown sober and serious. You’d think him a puritan, but he’s just the opposite. He’s stayed faithful to the Catholic Church and his zeal has grown over the years. It’s dangerous to hold such beliefs here. Especially dangerous for priests or those who harbour them.’ Maria kept her voice low and looked about as if spies and informers were lurking just outside the room. ‘You can end up with your head on a pike, stuck up on London Bridge, set there to rot with a score of others. You can see them any day of the week, come wind, rain and sun, bristling like some monstrous pincushion, pecked about by ravens.’
    She paused for a moment, and when she began again