Queen's Own Fool (11 page)

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Authors: Jane Yolen

BOOK: Queen's Own Fool
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So with nothing else to keep me busy, I spent more and more time with my lessons and this eased my longing for the queen's company. And my reading skills, at least, grew.
 
Madam Jacqueline finally felt I was ready to memorize the Creed of the Apostles in Latin. Unfortunately, I kept getting the words wrong when I recited it, lapsing into French or Italian no matter how hard I studied.
Each mistake meant another great whack with the cane.
“Does not God understand us whatever language we use?” I asked. We were sitting across the table from one another, I in my green dress and she in her accustomed black. My hand was on the table, palm up. Madam required it, the easier to give me a blow.
“Wicked child, you dishonor God Himself by making so light of His holy word,” she cried and the cane—like a stroke of lightning—crashed down.
My right hand went so numb from the blow I could not pick it up from the table except by using my left. I pulled it to my chest and willed myself not to cry.
And at that very moment, the queen walked into the room.
She glared at my governess as though she had caught madam in an act of treason. “What exactly is going on here?”
Madam Jacqueline bowed her head. “Your Majesty, I am endeavoring to teach this dull girl the rudiments of her faith.”
“With beatings?”
“If it is required. Willfulness is not a virtue in God's eyes. It stands too close to pride. She is an extremely willful girl.”
I could not read the queen's expression, except that she seemed disgusted. The feeling began to return to my fingers, hot pricks like needles held in the fire.
“I do not think God sees cruelty as a virtue,” Queen Mary said. “Else He would have made it a commandment.”
If I had said any such thing, I would have been beaten twice. I dared to grin at madam.
“Come, Nicola,” the queen said. “We will talk to the cardinal about this.”
Madam Jacqueline did not move, but I glimpsed the tension in her old ewe's face as I followed the queen out the door.
 
“I think Madam Jacqueline is trying to please God,” I said, hurrying down the stone corridor and trying to keep up with her. The queen was a head taller than I, with long legs to match.
“She has not pleased
me,
” said the queen, stopping and turning so suddenly that I almost ran into her. Her skirts murmured around her. “None of my governesses ever treated me in such a fashion.”
“But you are a queen, Majesty,” I reminded her. “And I expect you were a clever child who was not such a trial to teach.”
“My dear Nicola, you have learned to read in record time. Even the king has taken notice. We left you alone to get on with it—and get on you certainly have!” She smiled.
Made bold by her revelation, I dared to ask: “Majesty, why did you come to the study now? You have not been before. I thought that you did not ... did not ...”
“I have just been given a new book from Italy which I want you to read out to me,” she replied. “I was eager to give it to you. It is a book of tales. But it can wait.”
A book of tales!
I would wait as long as I must!
12
THE CHESS GAME
W
e entered one of the salons where the king and the duke were hunched over a table playing chess, the king's dogs asleep and snoring loudly at his feet. The cardinal looked on, bending down occasionally to recommend a move to the king.
A few courtiers were seated in small, gossipy groups near the fire where the dwarf, La Folle, paraded up and down in a suit of armor made to fit her small, humped body. Brandishing a tiny sword in the air, she squawked loudly and made mock attacks on various of the men, all of whom roared at her antics. Even the duke laughed.
Just as we got to the king's game table, La Folle charged at us as though we were an invading army. The queen waved her away impatiently and went over to the chess game, where she spoke to the cardinal in hurried whispers that I could just make out.
“I must talk with you, Uncle, about Nicola's governess.”
The cardinal raised an eyebrow. “Is the fool dissatisfied?”
“I
am the one who is dissatisfied, Uncle. I just saw Madam Jacqueline beating Nicola with a wooden cane.”
“Did you not want her educated?”
In a controlled voice, she answered: “Yes, I want her educated, but I do not mean to have her beaten. ”
“Madame Jacqueline comes with the very highest of recommendations,” the cardinal assured her calmly.
“I am not questioning her loyalty, Uncle, only her methods.”
“You will find, dear niece, that difficult children are taught all over France with the guidance of the rod.” He folded his plump hands over his ample stomach.
“I do not care what happens elsewhere. I will not have that woman treat my Jardinière in such a way.”
“I am sure Madam Jacqueline will make whatever modifications to her regimen you demand,” the cardinal conceded. “If you insist, I will speak to her at once.”
“Do so.” It was a royal command.
The cardinal bowed stiffly and left the room.
Throughout this conversation the king and the duke had continued their game, the duke with great concentration and the king sullenly, the linen cloth now to his ear, now to his nose.
I had seen chess played before at court, but never with such magnificent pieces. They looked just like little people—soldiers and nobles marching bravely across a wooden field of battle. The black pieces were made of ebony, the white from bone.
“The king seems to have fewer pieces than the duke,” I whispered to the queen when she returned to my side. “Is he losing?”
She nodded, replying in a hushed voice: “Uncle insists that the king play. He says monarchs need to learn strategy. He says that chess is good preparation for life. The king hates it.”
Hearing us, the king looked up, his face even thinner than last I had seen it, the pockmarks more pronounced. “Ah, little garden girl, perhaps you can help save the day and advise me. My wife's uncle seems to have me cornered.” He winked.
“Oh, no, Your Majesty, I do not know the game at all,” I said.
“Then in the further interests of your education, you should learn,” he said, beckoning me forward. “No matter how hard I try, I cannot defeat the duke. Perhaps a fool could do better.”
Reluctantly I moved to where the cardinal had been standing moments earlier. “I do not think so, Majesty. It looks very difficult.”
“Nonsense, girl, the moves are simplicity itself. It is just the outcome that is so damnably hard.” He tapped one of the pieces with his forefinger, a white figure in a crown. “Now in this square is me, the king. Here by my side is the queen. Over there is a castle, this is my knight, and all those small ones are called pawns.”
“And this piece?” I asked, pointing to the figure of a jester.
“It's called
Le Fou,
the fool. There are two of them, and at the beginning of the game one of them stands in the square beside the king, the other beside the queen.” He looked up and smiled at me. “As you do with my dear Mary.”
Instead of looking down at my shoes as madam had taught me, I smiled back.
“In some countries,” the duke put in, “that position is occupied by a bishop.” His voice was hard as ice. “I for one find that far more appropriate.”
Aha!
I thought.
Now I begin to understand the game.
I chose my next words very carefully.
“I am one fool who knows better than to put myself in the bishop's square, Your Grace.” I started to move away but the king grabbed my hand, holding me to the spot.
“Since you have already taken the cardinal's place here beside us now,” he said, “perhaps we should also let you take his pulpit for the mass.” He laughed at his own jest.
I knew I was well out of my depths here. If I said one thing, I angered the duke, another I angered the king. Either way, I chanced drowning. The only hope I had was to be amusing and so anger no one. Think, Nicola, think!
Then at last I had it. “I do not believe my governess would agree, Your Majesty. She would tell you that I know even less about religion than chess.”
“Indeed,” Queen Mary said, coming to my rescue just in time, “Nicola confuses priests and presses, pious and pies. Do you not remember, Francis?”
He laughed. “Oh, yes—that was quite a joke. Priests. Pies. And grease. We liked that a lot! Well, we cannot help you with religion, garden girl. That is Uncle Charles's domain. But we can with chess. The pieces move like this.” The king demonstrated the movements of each in turn.
Clearing his throat loudly, the duke said, “Girl, you will notice that the chess king can hardly move at all on the board.”
I nodded.
“That is why he needs these others to protect him—a strong castle, a brave knight.”
“And a fool,” I added, from the safety of the queen's protection.
“Yes, even a fool,” the duke conceded at last. “Though the fool must always remember its place.” He smiled a grim smile.
This time I looked down before asking, “Why is that, Your Grace?”
“Well, since the fool moves along the diagonal, it may only move onto squares the same color as the one it began on. Half the board is barred to it. Any fool should beware moving onto squares where she is not allowed.”
Again I thought carefully before answering. “Then I suppose a fool must choose that first square very carefully.”
“Brava, Nicola!” the queen whispered.
When I let out my breath, it was the first I realized I had been holding it.
The duke lifted a finger and stroked his scar, then said as carefully back to me: “The fool has no say as to which square it is placed on.
“Nor do any of the others, Uncle,” the queen reminded him. “In that way, at least, they are all equal.”
“In that and in that alone,” the duke replied.
“Then ... how do you win?” I asked.
“You win the game, child, by using your queen to capture the king,” said the duke with a slow smile. He moved his queen into position, looking very pleased with himself.
The king scowled and leaned his cheek against his fist. “You have taken over the cardinal's position, fool. What do you recommend?”
“I think ... I think that as you are the king, you should make all of your pawns into knights,” I said.
“There's an idea!” The king roared his approval, his homely face lighting up with his delight.
“It is not allowed under the rules,” said the duke evenly. “Even a king is bound by the rules.”
“Well, he should not be,” the king protested. “We prefer the way our fool thinks.” He snatched up a piece and moved it carelessly across the board.
“You have placed your king in great danger,” the duke chided. “That move will give me checkmate.” He picked up one of his castles very precisely between two beringed fingers. But before he could place it, a crazed war cry shook the room.
La Folle came galloping across the room, making a mock charge at the duke and crying, “
Au secours!
To the rescue!”
Instinctively, the duke raised an arm even as the dwarf tried to pull up short. However, she had left it too late, and her slippers skidded on an uncarpeted part of the floor. Barging feet-first into the table, she overturned the board and scattered the pieces.
The queen and I jumped back to avoid the cascade and La Folle collapsed on her bottom, her sword clattering to the floor.
“We have been saved by the Queen of the Amazons,” giggled the king, thoroughly enjoying the duke's discomfiture.
Gritting his teeth, the duke angrily leaped to his feet, tossing aside the ebony castle that was still gripped between his fingers.
“Clumsy buffoon,” he hissed at La Folle, so enraged that I believe he would have lashed out at her had he a weapon to hand.
Luckily for the dwarf, however, the duke's attention was distracted when the door flew open and an officer dressed in rough riding clothes burst into the room. The man had not even taken the time to wipe the mud from his boots before coming into the royal presence.
“I bring word of La Renaudie!” he gasped and knelt down.
The duke hurried across the room and held a hushed but urgent conversation with the messenger before dismissing him.
“Fetch my sword and pistol,” the duke ordered one of his servants.
“What has happened?” I whispered hurriedly to the queen, but she seemed not to hear me. “What is La Renaudie?”
“Come, Your Majesties,” the duke said, turning to the king and queen, “we must leave Blois at once.”
“At once? But we had planned to go hawking in the morning,” the king objected, his voice rising to a squeak.
The queen put a hand on his arm. “Listen to Uncle, my dear.”
“Must it be at once?” the king asked again.
The duke looked at the king with narrowing eyes. “At once, Your Majesty. If we make a wrong move now there will be no one to save us by knocking over the board unless it be God Himself. ”
13
THE GARDEN AT AMBOISE
I
had not known the court to move with such haste. One would have thought the palace at Blois was about to collapse around us. Servants and soldiers darted about like stags driven by dogs. I could not guess the reason for all this hasty activity, and no one I asked—from stable boy to waiting maid—could tell me.
Without even riding costumes or proper cloaks, the members of the court were bustled into carriages guarded by mounted troops, something that had never happened before.

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