Heartless (16 page)

“Yes,” the duke rumbled, “life is fair and easy, I must admit, but if there’s one thing it lacks, that’s a woman’s ministering hand. What do you say, Fidel, old boy? Where would we be without our womenfolk, eh?”

King Fidel raised a glass and said nothing. When he’d received word that the duke wished to “pay his respects,” his own heart had sunk – not so much for fear of losing his daughter to this man, but because he’d known the duke since childhood, when they’d been obliged to play together as noblemen’s children should. He retained vivid memories of being sat upon by the large boy, memories which had not improved with time.

“So, what do you think of all this dragon talk?” the duke asked as the meal neared its end and all his stories of himself were told out. Though he spoke to the king, his gaze rested on Una. She wished she could evaporate.

“I try not to make too much of it,” King Fidel replied. “We’ve heard rumors of dragons before, but no dragon has ever come near Parumvir.”

“Ah, but this is different,” the duke said, stabbing a last slab of beef from the platter before a servant carried it off. “I’ve been hearing tell in Shippening that a dragon has plagued Southlands many years now. Now, Southlands is far from Parumvir, to be sure, but it ain’t so far from Shippening. Trade with Southlands has been nonexistent, and one never hears from the royal family or any ambassadors. They say the crown prince, Lionheart, was killed by the creature. The others may or may not be alive – who’s to know? But lately there’ve been changes. Word is, the Dragon has left Southlands. They say it’s coming north, hunting something.”

“Who says?” King Fidel demanded.

“Oh, recently a few stragglers from Southlands have made their way to Shippening, saying the Dragon is looking to procreate. It’s hunting out likely prospects maybe, eh?”

“You mean it wants to mate and lay an egg?” Felix asked, whose imagination pictured dragons as overlarge lizards with forked tongues like a snake’s.

The duke roared with laughter and pounded his fist on the table several times. Una lowered her head and bowed her shoulders. “Mate? Lay an egg?” the duke bellowed. “Boy, have you been reading faerie stories? Don’t you know where dragons come from?”

“Please,” King Fidel said, “I would rather you did not – ”

“I’m just educating the boy, Majesty!” the duke cried. “Why, in these times he’d better know what he’s up against. Life ain’t a pretty faerie story, you know. When that dragon comes calling – ”

“Stop,” Fidel said.

The duke shut his mouth.

They finished eating in silence, then retired to the sitting room as usual. To Una’s dismay, the duke was asked to join them, and he accepted. He sat in a chair next to Una’s, lit his pipe, and proceeded to puff fumes her way, chuckling quietly to himself when she coughed. She cast desperate glances toward her father, but he was preoccupied with his own thoughts. Felix got out his game of sticks, and the room was quiet but for the clicks of sticks and stifled coughs.

At last the door opened and Leonard stepped in. He still wore his odd yellow suit – only now it was significantly cleaner than when Una had first met him, and there were patches of bright turquoise, orange, and pale pink where once had been only holes. He looked, on the whole, the product of a colorblind quilter’s fancy, which was probably the intent.

He paused in the doorway, taking in the scene before him. Una smiled, but he would not look at her. His gaze rested heavily on the duke, who was dozing over his pipe. Leonard lifted a hand, struck a sour chord on his lute, and cried, “What-
ho
! A merry bunch you are tonight!”

He sprang into the middle of the room with such a clatter of bells and noise that Una dropped her needle and the duke let out an “Oooof!” as he startled awake.

“Keep it down, jester,” King Fidel said. “We’re glad to see you, but must you
resound
so?”

“Resound? Your Majesty, I’ve hardly begun to peal!” A strange gleam lit the jester’s eyes, and his smile was not at all pleasant, Una thought. She stared at him, aghast, as he disregarded her father’s command and strummed another loud, discordant sound on his lute. “I’ve written a new song,” he said. “Rather, rewritten an old one in honor of our esteemed guest.”

“That’s decent of you, Fool,” the duke said, tapping ashes from his pipe onto the rug. “I haven’t heard a good song in ages.”

“A
good
song I cannot promise,” the jester said. “But such a song as it is, I give to you. ‘The Sorry Fate of the Beastly Lout.’ ”

Una’s mouth dropped open as Leonard began to sing a variation of the song he’d sung to her on the day they had met. Only this time he sang with a great, insincere smile on his face.

“With audacity gawky, the Beastly Lout

Would loiter and dawdle and maybe

Try his luck wenching, casting about

To court a most beauteous lady.

“But to his dismay, he was made aware

That his suit was unwelcome before her.

Our poor Beastly Lout felt her pickling stare

’Cause his stories did certainly bore her.

“Ah, sad Beastly Lout, how he tried to be nice,

But his courting just could not amuse her right.

For, you see, his great noggin was covered in lice,

Which is hardly appealing in any light.”

The Duke of Shippening guffawed and slapped his knee. “Now, there’s a song for you!” he cried. “Bravo! Sing another, boy! And how about a round of something to lighten the mood? The rest of you are stiff as pokers!”

This wasn’t entirely true, for Felix was doubled up, trying to keep from barking with laughter while his father scowled down on him. Una had gone pale at the first line, red blotches lining her nose and cheeks.

“Fool!” the duke bellowed. “Sing again, I tell you! Set that tongue of yours to work!”

“No,” King Fidel said, turning his glare on Leonard, who stood straight, his gaze fixed on the wall across the room. “I believe you are done here, jester. Good-bye.”

Leonard bowed and left the room with a last jangle of bells.

“Why, Majesty,” the duke cried, “I haven’t been so amused in years! Is he hired on to you long term? If not – ”

Without asking to be excused, Una leapt up and hurried from the room. The tune of that horrible song rang in her ears along with the duke’s roar of a laugh. Tears filled her eyes as she made her way blindly down the hall.

Someone grabbed her arm, and she found herself pulled into a side corridor, spun about, and face-to-face with the jester.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she cried, shaking his hand away. Her heart pounded, and she thought she would choke on the words garbled in her throat. “Insulting our how could you, you’ve gone and what were you – ”

“You can’t marry that lout,” he said, his voice thick, almost menacing. Leonard looked down on her, his eyes so huge and frightening that she had to cover her face with her hands.

“I don’t intend to marry that lout!” she growled, able to speak when she did not look at him. “I have no intention of marrying anyone, not that it is any of
your
business!”

“M’lady – ”

“You’ve gone and gotten yourself discharged, you fool!”

“No!” Leonard said sharply. He took Una’s hands and pulled them away from her face. “M’lady,” he said, “look at me. Please. I’m not a Fool.”

She turned her face away and spoke to the wall. “I don’t know what else you call a commoner who insults a royal guest and gets himself – ”

“No, Una,” Leonard said. He squeezed her hands in his. “I am not a Fool, not a jester. I am Prince Lionheart of Southlands.”

14

"What?”

“Please look at me, Una,” said the jester. “I said I am Prince Lionheart of Southlands.”

Una blinked. Then she pushed away his hands and stepped back. “You . . . you’re a dragon-eaten Fool.”

“No, I’m not.” He paused, then added, “Well, yes, maybe I am. But that’s beside the point. I have been Leonard the Jester for a good five years now, but my real name is Lionheart, and I am – ”

“Prince of Southlands.” She backed up until she hit the far wall. “A likely story.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“No.”

He set his jaw, puffing out an angry breath. “I know. You’re used to the sight of me scrubbing your floors and windows. Not a very princely posture, eh? So what must I do to prove myself? Cut my arm and show you how blue my blood is?”

“You could explain either why you are lying to me now or why you lied to me earlier. That would make an excellent beginning.”

He removed his bell-covered hat and rubbed his hand through his hair so that it stood up like tufts of grass. “That’s a bit of a story,” he said and indicated the floor. “Will you sit?”

“I will not.”

“This may take time.”

“Then you’d better get started before I lose what’s left of my interest.”

His eyes narrowed and his hands gripped his jester hat as though he would like to pull it in two. “I’ll try to keep it brief. I am the crown prince of Southlands – ”

“We covered that.”

“Shush! Let me speak.” But it took him several moments of considering his words before he could begin again. At last he spoke in a low voice without looking at Una, still pulling at his hat.

“It came from nowhere. I remember the day, the exact moment, I saw the fire drop from the sky. We’d had no warning. That is . . . well, how can you be warned against something like that? Of course you hear stories of dragons, but you never expect you’ll see one. They belong to the ancient history of Southlands, back before we traded with the Continent, back before we knew better than to worship and revere such monsters. Hundreds of years ago.

“But it came one fine spring day, dropped from the sky like a blazing meteor. In no time it laid waste to the surrounding countryside, set fire to the barracks that housed my father’s guard, trapped my parents and eighteen other nobles inside the Eldest’s House, holding them for ransom to their own people. The Dragon demanded it be brought a prime beef cow every day and instant obedience to whatever other orders it might give.” The jester-prince shuddered at the memory. “It crawled about the castle grounds, destroying the gardens, burning the walls. I don’t know how many people it killed with its poison breath alone. The air was thick, more putrid than you can imagine.”

A memory came to Una as she listened. A memory, she knew not from where. She saw a great castle and a ruined garden, and a sky heavy with smoke and fumes. “Where were you at the time?” she asked in a whisper.

“I had gone out riding with a friend that day and was not at the castle when the Dragon descended. We’d ridden all the way to the Swan Bridge on the far south end of my father’s grounds, but we saw the fire fall from there and rode back as fast as we could. When we approached, my friend was terrified by the sounds and smells and begged me to ride back to her father’s estate with her rather than face that fire – ”

“Her?” The word slipped out unbidden, and Una blushed.

The jester-prince smiled. “A friend, I assure you. But I refused to listen and rode out to face the monster armed only with a knife. It didn’t matter. The mightiest sword ever forged by man would not pierce the hide of that great beast.”

“What did it do when it saw you?”

He shook his head ruefully. “It laughed. It opened its vast mouth and roared with laughter, flames in its teeth.

“ ‘Prince Lionheart!’ it said. ‘Welcome. You wish to try your mettle on me?’

“The fumes of its breath choked me so that I could hardly breathe, and my horse, in a terror, threw me and galloped away. I was left alone, gasping and helpless. The Dragon crawled toward me, and I could not move for the burning pain in my lungs. It gazed down at me with its red eyes. It seemed like an eternity that it stared at me, its gaze burning my skin. I thought I would die; I hoped I would.”

Una reached out and touched his hand. He grasped hers tightly in both of his.

“At last it said, ‘You are a tempting morsel, little prince. But alas, I lost that game long ago! No, I fear I must give you up. Perhaps I shall eat you instead?’

“Then it gazed deeper still. I felt as though my flesh and bones were burned away, leaving only my flickering spirit struggling naked in the grass.

“ ‘Ah!’ the Dragon said. ‘Ah, perhaps you are not for snacking after all! You will help me, won’t you? Yes, of course you will. Get up, little prince, and journey into the world. I send you to your exile. But we’ll meet again, and perhaps you’ll find your throne after all?’ ”

Lionheart’s face went quite pale as he recounted the Dragon’s words, and his voice altered as he spoke them. Then he was silent a long moment before he could continue. “I have thought over those words a thousand times, trying to discern some significance, perhaps some clue to the monster’s destruction. But they seem as meaningless to me now as they did then in the middle of all that heat and poison.” He shook his head slowly, as though trying to free himself of the memory. “That is all I can recall of that day. When I awoke, it was a week later. My friend had brought me to her father’s estate in Middlecrescent. She nursed me back from a horrible fever that nearly took my life. The dragon smoke was thick across the country by then.

“That very day, though I was still weak, I packed a bag, saddled a horse, and journeyed north. In Shippening I found work as a minstrel.” He smiled, rather sadly Una thought, as he mentioned this. “I’ve always had a knack for clowning, and I picked up a good many tricks as I journeyed across the countryside. I’ve worked as a jester in the various courts and manors of Beauclair, Milden, and beyond. But it was when I traveled east that I learned a thing or two about dragons.”

“How to kill them, you mean?” Una asked.

“Perhaps.” He looked down at his feet. “But I begin to fear I will never have the opportunity to try.”

“Why not?”

“Southlands is far, far from Parumvir, especially on foot. Jesters’ pay is not what it might be either, especially for one newly discharged.”

“Why go on with this charade, then?” Una pulled her hand free and paced away from him. “Tell my father who you are,” she said. “Tell him! He will surely supply you with equipment, with soldiers even. He will help you battle this monster, I’m sure of it. My father is a generous man. I know he – ”

“M’lady,” he interrupted, “what proof have I for my story? Any small token I possessed marking my heritage I was obliged to sell long ago to buy bread. My only proof is my face, which my family, should they yet live, will recognize. If ever I am able to return to them, I shall kill that monster and reclaim my kingdom. I shall come into my own as heir of Southlands at last. Only then would I have the right to speak to your father. As it is, I cannot ask him for aid, and I cannot ask him for – ”

He stopped and gazed at her, his eyes intent and sad.

“Oh,” she whispered.

“So you see, it is best that I leave,” he said. “I cannot bear to watch these suitors of yours, knowing I have no right to . . . to pursue you myself.”

“Oh,” she whispered again.

“Una.” He approached her, standing near enough that she felt the warmth of his breath on her forehead, though he did not touch her. “Una, I must leave. I have a dragon to fight, a kingdom to reclaim. I may not be able to return.”

“I understand.”

“Will you trust me?” he asked.

She didn’t speak for a long moment. To her irritation, two memories flashed through her mind.

The first was of Gervais standing in the garden, singing a song he had chosen just for her.

The second was of Prince Aethelbald putting out a restraining hand.
“I love you, Una. I will return to ask for your hand.”

“Una?” The jester-prince spoke softly. She felt his gaze burning the top of her bowed head. “Una, trust me.”

“All right,” she said. Then she raised her eyes to him and smiled. “All right, Prince Lionheart. I trust you.”

He grinned. “Thank you.”

With those words he turned and strode quickly down the hall.

“Wait!” Una cried, running after him. “Are you going so soon?”

“Immediately. I must find employment so that I can save for the long journey. Una, I don’t know how long it will be, and I won’t be able to contact you in the interval – ”

“Don’t worry about me!” she said. She caught him by the arm and pulled him to a stop. “Please, Leonard . . . Lionheart. Please, before you go . . .” Hardly knowing what she did, Una took off her mother’s opal ring. For a moment it stuck, and she thought it might not come off. But then it slid from her finger and she held it out to the jester-prince.

“Here,” she said, pressing it into his hand. “It was my mother’s. I don’t know how much it is worth, but something close to a king’s ransom, I should think. Use it for your journey and . . . and come back soon.”

He looked at the ring, turning it to see how the light caught and burned deep inside the iridescent stones. Then he raised his gaze to Una again. Gently, he reached out and touched her cheek with a finger. “Trust me, Una,” he whispered once more.

Then he left, and she did not see him again for a long time.

–––––––

There is nothing like a secret to create mystery in a girl, and Una was nothing if not a mystery to all around her in the following days.

“Dear child!” Nurse cried when Una burst into tears for no apparent reason three mornings after the jester left. “Dear child, what troubles you?”

“Nothing,” Una said, wiping her eyes and sighing. “Nothing. Isn’t this a beautiful world, Nurse? I mean in general, you know?”

Nurse closed one eye and looked at her sidelong. “Is it?”

Una thought about it. “No. Not really.” She burst into tears again, digging for a handkerchief between hiccups. Monster, sitting at her feet, meowed and touched her knee with a paw. She nudged him away. “No, it’s a cruel world.”

Nurse thought it expedient to bring news of this conversation to King Fidel.

“Are you certain?” Fidel asked.

“I know what I heard. I know what I saw,” Nurse said.

“But what does it mean?”

“I’ll tell you what it means, sire,” Nurse said. “She’s in love, that’s what it means, and not like she was with Prince Gervais either! No, this is a more serious kind. She goes about sighing with a look of noble suffering on her face. So either it’s unrequited or he is far away at present. Either way, I know the symptoms.”

“In love?” Fidel wiped his brow. “If you are right, I do hope it’s the latter, Nurse. If he’s far away, that rules out the duke.”

“The duke? Gracious, no!” Nurse said.

At that timely moment the duke himself made an appearance.

“Majesty!”

His voice boomed through Fidel’s head, and the king’s knees trembled a little as vivid memories of smotherment sprang to mind. But he pulled himself together and said, “My good duke, is something troubling – ”

“Is something troubling me?” the duke cried, and the windows shook. “Is something troubling me, you ask? Majesty, I don’t mind saying that something is troubling me right enough!” He swore roundly, and Nurse pursed her lips and folded her hands.

“I am sorry to hear it.” Fidel prided himself that his voice remained calm. “Whatever your grievance may be, I hope – ”

“That daughter of yours!”

“Una?”

“Whatever her name is! Why didn’t you tell me she was betrothed?”

“Betrothed?” the king and Nurse cried.

The duke swore again. “You could have spared my pride by a word, Majesty. But no, just let me walk into the lion’s den, my eyes wide shut, spoutin’ professions of love and wedding plans and asking about the dowry – ”

“Una is hardly a lion.”

The duke raised a hand. “Don’t try pulling that gibberish about innocent, guileless maidens with me! You set her up to this, didn’t you? Wanted to get back at me for a few childish pranks, huh? Well, I’ll tell you what I think!”

And he did for the next quarter of an hour, until King Fidel at last summoned his guard to escort the irate duke elsewhere.

“There goes our alliance with Shippening.” Fidel sank into the thick-padded chair behind his desk, sighing. “Oh, Una. Betrothed in secret? And to whom?”

“Who could it be but Prince Aethelbald?” Nurse said.

“Aethelbald?”

“Of course. And now she’s pining for him; he’s been gone for weeks.

Poor little dear must have been afraid to tell me for pride, she was that set against him for so long. . . .”

“Wait,” Fidel said. “That does not sound like Una – and it certainly does not sound like Prince Aethelbald. He would not contract a betrothal with her without informing me. Besides, he was none too happy when he left Oriana – hardly had the look of a man newly betrothed.”