Jester Leaps In: A Medieval Mystery (17 page)

Which hurt like hell when we rehearsed it at the Rooster. They make good, solid, crusty bread in this city, and Claudius hadn’t quite mastered pulling the blow just short of my nose. But this time, she was perfect. I saw a blur of bread, and rocked back into a series of bizarre tumbles, ending in a headstand. The crowd roared.

Oh, the Fool has been caught! He begs, he pleads, he shows his desperation. He indicates that he would do anything to avoid prison, even—gasp!—work. All indicated by dumb show, of course, in the space of a few seconds.

The Everyman relents and dumps the bricks onto the ground. He indicates to the Fool that he should follow his lead. He takes a brick, places it in front of him. The Fool does likewise. The laborer puts a second brick next to the first. The Fool, a little more confident, does the same. Say, this is easy, he thinks. The smugness returns.

Then the laborer, who does this for a living, speeds up, his hands a whirlwind, stacking them quickly. The Fool cannot sustain the pace. He is frantic. His section of the wall becomes a tumbledown affair as every brick he puts on it falls. Soon, he is sneaking glances at the impassive laborer to his left, and stealing bricks from the latter’s part of the wall to even the score. Then, he is caught again.

Consternation! There is no more room for redemption. The
laborer, not a patient man, takes a brick and throws it at the Fool.

Who catches it. And then another. And then another.

Brick juggling has its own technique. Oh, you can flip bricks through the air like you would clubs or balls, but that’s just basic stuff. The interesting way of doing it is to take three bricks and press the middle one between the two outer ones so that they make a straight line. Then you start switching them in midair while keeping the illusion of the line intact. It’s not easy.

Especially when you bring in a fourth brick, and then a fifth. By this time, you don’t have to pretend to be in a panic; it comes naturally with what you’re attempting to do. And just when I was about to drop them all, in came Claudius to grab one and steady the pattern.

We held for a moment, facing each other in front of the Kathisma. Then she brought a sixth brick into the line, and we had four hands going, our arms shooting in and out of each other’s way as if we were a human loom.

We finished by tossing all of the bricks into the air. I caught the first two and held them together, and she quickly grabbed the rest and stacked them neatly on top of my base pair. Then she started stacking more and more, while I looked increasingly exhausted.

The stacking wasn’t a random pattern, of course. It allowed me to stagger around while maintaining this crazy tower. Then I tilted the bricks in a peculiar way, and they tumbled into a more stable structure. In fact, it was now a section of wall, identical to the one she had built on the ground. I placed my section next to it, and snatched the last piece of bread from the cart in triumph.

There was thunderous applause from the Kathisma and the
nearby sections. Even the musicians were clapping, which is a rarity.

I glanced over at Claudius and said, “Well done!” Her eyes were shining as she looked up at our audience. We bowed and quickly piled our bricks back onto the cart.

A purse came flying down from the upper level of the Kathisma. I caught it and then fell backward under the impact, provoking more laughter from the crowd. I looked directly at the Emperor, who was guffawing merrily. He waved to me, and I waved back and bowed again.

We rolled our cart back to our pen and relaxed.

“Anything to eat?” asked Claudius mischievously.

I pulled the sections of bread out of my pouch and handed them over. I had eaten only a small portion during the act. With so many repeat performances, if I actually ate the loaf, I would have been too heavy to move by the time we finished.

Claudius added some cheese and nuts from her pouch, and we had ourselves a nice repast there in the middle of the Hippodrome while the chariots careened around us.

The slave who had summoned us before dashed across the course after the first race was over.

“The Emperor wishes you to perform at Blachernae Palace tomorrow afternoon,” he said excitedly. Then he bent down and whispered, “You are about to become a wealthy pair of fools. Guard yourselves well.”

He dashed back.

“We’re in,” I said, clapping her on the back. “All right, two more times and we’ve done the circuit.”

“Wait,” she said, pointing up. “It’s the flying man.”

A man walked before the Kathisma wearing the most outlandish costume I had ever seen, and I’m accustomed to motley. His
tunic was covered with all manner of feathers, and he was carrying a pair of giant wings, larger even than those of the bronze eagle soaring over us.

“My Lord, Emperor Alexios, long may you thrive,” he shouted. “I am here to show you a marvel. I have spent ten years studying the creatures of the air, and have discovered their innermost secrets. Now, I have used this knowledge to devise wings for man. With this, you shall rise above any Emperor who has ever lived. Your armies shall conquer beyond any wall, any moat, any mountain. Nothing shall stand in your way.”

Alexios kept a straight face throughout, and motioned to the fellow to proceed. The moment the man turned away from the Kathisma, the entire Imperial retinue began crowding to the front, wagering heavily.

“Are there actually those among them betting he will succeed?” marveled Claudius.

“No,” I said. “I think they’re only betting on how far he’ll land from the column.”

The poor, deluded fellow scaled the Column of Constantine Porphyrogenitos, then hauled the wings up after him. He slipped his arms into them, and flapped experimentally a few times. Then he looked around and froze.

I wanted to shout for him to come down, but the crowd was shouting for him to make the attempt. All we could do was watch and see if the fear of shame would conquer the fear of death.

It did. He spread his wings and leapt straight out. For a moment, he sustained the illusion. The crowd held its breath, and the Hippodrome was silent. The silence was broken by a solitary scream, which was in turn broken by a sickening thud.

“Looks like he got about thirty paces,” commented a guard standing nearby. “I don’t think that breaks the record.”

“You owe me dinner,” said another.

There was laughter all about, especially from the Kathisma, as the slaves went to remove the poor fellow’s corpse from the track. Claudius looked at me.

“They laughed at us, and they laughed at him,” she said. “Makes me feel less proud of what we did.”

“It could have been worse,” I said.

“How?”

“We could have followed him.”

The rest of the day was anticlimactic. We did our last two performances and packed up, shaking hands with the gymnasts and acrobats. It was a profitable day all around, and we were in a buoyant mood despite the one fatality. The flier wasn’t one of us, so his death did not weigh down our spirits overmuch. All in a day’s work at the Hippodrome.

Samuel was waiting to collect his fee, but did not press us for an exact accounting.

“Come back anytime,” he said. “We will all profit.”

“Thank you,” I said.

As we left the stables, we were hailed by a man waiting outside. He was in his forties, I would say, of medium height and build. He still had all of his hair and a humorous cast to his eyes. He was wearing a light blue tunic under dark blue robes marked with an insignia that I didn’t know.

“Congratulations on your performance, my good fools,” he said. “I would like to buy you a drink if you have the time.”

“If it was the end of the world, I would still have time for a drink,” I replied. “Lead on, noble sir.”

He took us through a maze of side streets to a small tavern near the Venetian quarter. He ordered a pitcher of wine and a bowl heaped with shellfish, and we dug in.

“May we have the honor of knowing who is buying us dinner?” I asked.

“Forgive me,” he said, and then he seemed to puff up with self-importance. “I am Niketas Choniates. I am a Senator and the Logothete of the Sekreta.”

Claudius looked at me.

“Are we impressed?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” I replied. I turned to our new friend. “You’re a senator and the chief of the civil service. Which means you’re powerless in two different ways.”

He leaned back and laughed until he nearly choked.

“By God, it’s true!” he roared. “I am a functionary. No more, no less. The Senate meets every day down in the Great Palace, while the real strings are all being pulled up at Blachernae.” He leaned forward, suddenly quiet and serious. “Where the two of you will be entertaining as of tomorrow.”

“Ah,” I said, unsurprised. “What are you looking for?”

“Fools have a license to mock freely before the Emperor,” he said. “Although I did not hear you speak earlier, I assumed that your humor was not merely physical. And in the short space of time we’ve been talking, you’ve confirmed to me that your wits are of the highest quality.”

“Thank you.”

“So, I was wondering what the price of mockery is nowadays.”

“It depends on what you want.”

“To direct it at an intimate of the Emperor.”

“You want to pay me to ridicule someone. Who?”

He shook his head. “First, I must know if you will do it. Otherwise, I might be placing myself in some jeopardy by revealing who my enemy is. Information travels so quickly around here.”

“Then I must refuse,” I said. “If a person of your stature is afraid of this person, I am certainly not going to take any risks on your behalf. Especially on such short acquaintance. We’ve only
been in the city for a few days. Until we know all of the ins and outs of the palace, who’s who and doing what to who else, we cannot afford to play any favorites.”

“I understand entirely,” he said, smiling. “Well, it was worth the discussion. I truly enjoyed your performance, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“Did I detect a satirical tone to your choice of material?”

“Material, meaning subject matter? Or meaning bricks?”

“Both. I thought it might have been intended to be a bit allegorical. We live in a city that depends upon the state of the walls surrounding it. Here were the embodiments of prudent wall-building and prodigal living for the moment, pitched in battle. Believe me, the topic has been of no little concern for those of us who wonder about the future of the Empire.”

“Sounds like a worthy topic for debate down in the Senate.”

He winced. “That’s all we ever do there. We talk. I think that the Senate only exists in case the government is overthrown again. We have no authority until there is no authority. Then we have some—if the army and the people are willing to go along with us. Where were you before you came here?”

“Elsewhere.”

“Anywhere near Venice?”

“No.”

“Hm. A pity. I’m interested in knowing what they’re up to. Crusaders are geniuses at creating difficulty. They always expect you to believe that their cause is so holy that you should just roll over and give them supplies and right of free passage, and before you know it, there’s a German army camped in your courtyard. You might want to mention to our Emperor that he should rouse himself from his lethargic revels and think about the walls some more.”

“Is this something you want to pay me to do?”

“I thought it was something you would do for free.”

“Maybe. I’ll think about it.” I stood and offered my hand. “Thanks for dinner.”

“A pleasure, my friends. Stop by anytime and share some gossip.”

We had time to talk during our walk back, each holding one handle of the cart.

“Suddenly, we are a valued commodity,” observed Claudius. “Will others be attempting to purchase our services?”

“Possibly. Anyone with access to the Emperor becomes a target. The best course is to refuse all of them and go our own way. I wonder if any of the other fools had been approached like that.”

“Would they have accepted such a bribe?”

“I doubt it, but you never know. We’re human, and we have our weaknesses. It would be especially tempting if a fool was asked to target someone he was planning to attack anyway. A little easy money on the side.”

“I’m so glad that you’re incorruptible. By money, anyway.”

“Thank you. I wonder who our friend Niketas dislikes so much?”

“Maybe someone will bribe us to make fun of him. Then we’ll know.”

We pulled up to the Rooster and wheeled our cart in back.

“The next step is to find out the identity of the bald man we smoked out,” I said. “It would be nice if we could get him to speak somewhere near Zintziphitzes. If he could identify the voice, then we’d be certain.”

“Let’s see him tomorrow before we go to Blachernae,” she suggested. “Do you want to repeat the brick routine?”

“Not tomorrow,” I said. “We’ll use the other material.”

“Good,” she said, stretching. “I am tired of pushing this damn cart. I feel like we’ve gone over every hill in the city today.”

“And how did milady enjoy performing before a hundred thousand people?”

She grinned at me. “I felt like I was ready to fly when we finished before the Emperor, and there was no need for that winged contraption, either. If that logothete fellow hadn’t intercepted us, I would have dragged you to the nearest inn and taken a room with a real door in the doorway, thrown you inside, dropped the bar, and had my way with you.”

“My dear Claudius,” I exclaimed. “For that, I would have turned down the prospect of a free drink. Let me know next time.”

We went up the steps, waving to our fellow patrons. I was more alert this time, remembering that Thalia had promised to meet us again. So, it was with little surprise that I entered our room to find the cowled figure standing there.

“Good evening,” I said, sensing Claudius tensing behind me. “You’ve come earlier than expected.”

“I was unaware that I was expected,” came Father Esaias’s voice from under the cowl. “But most would prefer me to be too early than too late.”