Leonard tossed the four stones out into the stream in a quick series of splashes. “Dreams are tricky business, m’lady. It’s best to hold on to what you know, not what you want. Know your duty, know your path, and do everything you can to achieve what you have set out to do. Don’t let dreams get in your way. Dreams will never accomplish the work of firm resolve.”
Una looked at him, pushing wisps of loose hair out of her face. “What have you resolved, Leonard, that you won’t stop for dreams?”
He did not turn to her but stared out at the water. The gurgling current had swallowed his stones with scarcely a ripple. She watched him fix his mouth in a frown.
“I am resolved,” he said in a low voice, “to return home as soon as I may.”
“Home?” she said. “You mean Southlands?”
He nodded.
“Is it far away?”
“Very far, m’lady.”
Southlands can burn to dust for all I care.
Una knew very little of Southlands, far down at the southernmost tip of the Continent, a peninsula connected to Shippening only by a thin isthmus. But there were rumors about that land, particularly in the last five years. It was cut off from the rest of the Continent now, held captive by . . . The rumors were vague on that point. But the king and queen had not been seen in all that time; no one, in fact, had either come or gone through the mountain paths that encircled Southlands. And heavy smoke hung thick as death over all the land.
Una shuddered. Nurse would not permit her to listen to gossip, but she could not help but pick up little pieces of information. Southlands was so far from the concerns of her life that she had paid little heed to the rumors. But she remembered words overheard here and there.
Death. Demon.
Dragon.
Southlands can burn.
“Is it true, Leonard?” she asked, twisting the ring on her finger again.
“Is it true what they say about . . . about your homeland?”
“Maybe, maybe not.” He tossed a larger rock with a gloomp into the middle of the stream. “I don’t know what they say.”
A shiver passed through Una’s body despite the heat of the day. “Did you escape before the rest of Southlands was imprisoned?”
Leonard looked sidelong up at her. “Does it really matter how or when I escaped, if escaped we must call it? I am here, my people are there. My friends. My family. So I will return.”
“Can you do anything, though?” Una knew she should not pry when the jester so obviously did not want to talk about his life, but the questions came anyway. “Not in five years has anyone succeeded in crossing to Southlands alive. Don’t you think you should stay away for now? What could you do by returning anyway?”
“Princess Una,” he replied, “you are young and sweet. You can’t know about such things. I may be only a Fool, but even a Fool must see his duty, and when he sees it, he must follow through. What else can he do and still consider himself a man? Perhaps I cannot help my people.
Perhaps I will live long enough to see their destruction and then perish in the same fire. But nevertheless I will go.” He turned away from her and kicked another stone into the passing water. “As soon as I can put together funds enough for the journey.”
“Then I think you are a very brave Fool,” Una said quietly.
“If I were not a Fool, do you think I could be brave?”
They looked at each other, a silent gaze. And Una thought she’d never met a man of such firm resolution. Prince Gervais would not be so courageous.
What the jester thought she could not fathom, but he smiled slowly and at last ended the moment by crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue so that she laughed and shook her head at him. “Clown!”
“The things you call me,” he replied, dashing his bell-covered hat from his head and sweeping a deep bow. “M’lady, the day lengthens. If I do not return you home soon, questions will be asked, and do you think this humble floor-scrubber will escape a kicking from his superiors for hindering a princess in her daily schedule?”
So Una took his arm when he offered it and allowed him to escort her up the hill, through the tiered garden, and back to Nurse’s well-prepared scolding. She sat quietly through the rest of the afternoon, allowing Nurse’s words to skim over her head, and tried not to think the thoughts that pried at her mind.
A pity he’s a jester.
But, no more of that! Get back to work and remember who you are.
Leonard had called her sweet. Did he mean it?
“Dragon’s teeth!” Una muttered and attacked her tapestry with more vim and vigor than she’d given it in a long while, stabbing her finger with her needle. She was well distracted from her thoughts as she tried to keep blood from staining her handiwork.
–––––––
The Duke of Shippening arrived five days later.
Not even Nurse, once she saw the man, thought Una should consider his proposal. For all her practicality, Nurse did not wish to see her beloved princess in the hands of a man more than twice her age and five times her size. But she did not express this opinion; when asked, she refused to express any opinion whatsoever. It is wise never to speak negatively of one so rich and powerful as the duke.
As for Una, she could hardly look at the man without trembling.
He joined the royal family at dinner that night, speaking in rumbling tones of Capaneus, of his vast estate, of his hundreds of serfs and acres upon acres of grounds, of hunting adventures, of tearing a wild boar apart with his bare hands – Felix’s jaw dropped nearly to his collarbone as he listened – and all the other sweet details of his domestic existence.
“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 t
he 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 shudder
ed 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?’