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Authors: Alan Gordon

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Thirteenth Night
Jester Leaps In
A Death in the Venetian Quarter
The Widow of Jerusalem
An Antic Disposition
The Lark's Lament
A BONUS SHORT STORY FEATURING THEOPHILOS THE JESTER
I
was Chief Fool of Constantinople for about a year. It sounds contradictory, imposing a hierarchy on creatures whose nature tends to the anarchic, but we of the Fools' Guild have long mastered living with paradox. Father Gerald used to say during training that organizing jesters is only slightly easier than herding cats. To prove his point, he had us herd cats one day, an annual exercise that always amused the local villagers. At the end, scratched, bitten, exhausted, and humiliated, we came back to the Guildhall to find him standing on the steps. He ordered us back inside for another lecture. We rebelled—I was a leader, I confess it—and sat there, chanting the rudest things we could conjure involving our teacher. He watched us, stone-faced, until we ran out of breath. When one of us attempted to reason that we had demonstrated that we were more chaotic than our feline foes, Father Gerald merely observed that our rebellion showed a remarkable amount of unity and organization. Then he turned and went inside. We sat there, our collective jaws dropping, as we realized how he had manipulated us.
I became Chief Fool more by default than merit. The Guild had sent me to Constantinople to investigate the disappearance of the city's fools. I have recounted elsewhere what transpired upon my arrival, but I ended up staying on through the beginnings of the Fourth Crusade
until my expulsion in August of 1203. My title might have been more impressive had there been other fools to boss around, but the only other Guildmember present at my ascension was my wife and apprentice, Aglaia, compared to whom a herd of cats would seem like sheep.
Other fools joined us eventually, but this tale is from that period when just my wife and myself ran around that vast city, performing for audiences great and small, high and low. It began with a summons by Father Esaias.
“What does that black-hearted, black-cowled blackguard want?” wondered my wife, worriedly.
“Just the favor of my company,” I replied, handing her the message.
“You alone,” she said, reading it. “That means he wants you to do something that I wouldn't let you do if I was there.”
“Now, that's intriguing,” I said. “I will see you later. I am having dinner with the Devil.”
“There is no spoon long enough,” she muttered as I left.
Father Esaias ran the underworld of Constantinople from a sumptuous set of rooms inside the crypts of St. Stephen's by the River, a church on the west bank of the Lycos in the middle of the city. He had a hideously scarred face that few had seen once, none had seen twice, and most were happy never to have seen at all. I counted myself among the few.
We had formed a temporary alliance based on an unexpected convergence of interests on one particular intrigue, but that arrangement continued afterwards. While the goals of the Fools' Guild are anything but criminal, our methods are not always so sacrosanct. Father Esaias had resources that we lacked, and my wife and I had drawn upon them on more than one occasion.
Our payment to date had been information. Aglaia and I were frequent visitors at the Imperial Palace, and privy to the internal machinations of the court as well as the general gossip. We passed on such
items as we thought we safely could to the good Father, and had otherwise not been called upon to do anything more than provide entertainment at the raucous midnight feasts he would occasionally throw. But I had a feeling that my wife was right about this particular invitation.
I reached the brick church as the sun was setting. I was expected, and was escorted down to the crypts and through the sliding screen with the painting of St. Stephen on it. Father Esaias was dining alone at a large oaken table. Another bowl was laid out opposite him. He motioned for me to join him.
“Greetings, my foolish friend,” he said, ladling some stew into my bowl. “A brace of rabbits, fresh from the Emperor's personal forest. Try some.”
“Don't mind if I do,” I said, spooning some into my mouth. “Mmm. My compliments to the cook. And the poacher.”
“And how is your good wife?” he asked politely.
“Well, thank you,” I replied. “She sends her regards.”
“Does she indeed?” he said. I could sense the smile under the cowl even if I could not see it. “Meaning that she worries about you coming here without her.”
“She does,” I admitted. “Not so much for my safety here, but for what you want me to do.”
“First, I want you to finish that rabbit,” he said. “You'll be needing a full stomach for this little adventure.”
“I need a full stomach no matter what the occasion,” I said.
We finished our meal. He poured some more wine into my cup.
“I keep no ledger of our transactions,” he said. “But I require a favor of you, and I believe that you owe me one.”
“If it is within my powers, I shall do it,” I said.
“You don't fear that I might want you to kill someone?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Because you have enough killers working for you. If you need my talents, then you have something more unusual in mind.”
“Your wit,” he said. “That is what I need.”
“Then it is a small favor,” I said. “Tell me the nature of the problem.”
“There are three men in my employ,” he said. “As talented a trio of thieves as anyone could hope for. A few days ago, they executed a cunning and lucrative robbery of—well, the details need not concern you.”
“They never do where you are concerned.”
“The stolen items were concealed at a location known only to myself and the three of them. They guarded it in shifts, one man sleeping, the other two watching each other.”
“And the booty has vanished.”
“Precisely. And I want you to speak with them to determine which is the culprit.”
“It could be all three, working together.”
“I don't think so,” he said. “I chose these three because none of them trusts the others. They are ambitious, greedy, and ruthless men, and each would not hesitate to rat out his fellows. I think that this was the work of either one or two of them.”
“I wonder, given your predilections, that you haven't obtained the information using your own methods.”
“Because I abhor waste,” he declared. “As I said, there is an abundance of felonious talent here, more valuable to me than the items I seek to recover. If I were to torture all three of them to get the information, then I will have destroyed at least one useful thief who is innocent.”
“Relatively innocent,” I corrected.
“Relatively innocent,” he agreed.
“But why do you need me?” I asked.
“I need an independent mind,” he explained. “I am so used to hearing lies, and they are so used to lying, that I can no longer discern the truth when it exudes from my minions. And interrogation by someone in authority would be fruitless. The questions of a fool, however, may be just what I need.”
“Very well, I shall undertake your quest,” I said. “Where are they?”
“I have placed each in a comfortable cell at different locations in the city, as far away from each other as possible. Each is being guarded by enough men to prevent corruption, and each has been fed well and provided with female companionship.”
“Quite generous,” I said. “Softening them up for me?”
“I believe that a man's last night on earth should be a memorable one,” he said. “Father Theodore will bring you to them in the morning. Good evening, Fool.”
Well, there it was. A small favor, I had joked. Now, I would use my little wit to pin a death sentence on a man. And me boasting about not worrying that Father Esaias would want me to kill someone.
I am not squeamish about the taking of a life. I have done it myself on more than one occasion, whether in defense or for the greater good. But to participate in the execution of a thief at the behest of a greater thief was not part of my job description.
Aglaia was understandably appalled.
“Is there no way you could refuse?” she asked. “I know that we are beholden to him, but to this extent?”
“Unfortunately, we may be,” I said. “And there is another reason why I must do this.”
“What is it?”
“If I don't, then he may very well have all three put to death. If I refuse him, then I will have forgone the opportunity to save two.”
“Which would make you twice as just as Pontius Pilate,” she
snapped. “Only there are three thieves and no Saviors to choose from. Why should that be your problem?”
“I won't question it,” I said. “Let me at least see the three men. Perhaps I will find something that will appeal to Father Esaias's sense of mercy.”
“Appeal to a stone first,” she replied. “You'll have a better chance.”
 
The banging on our door shortly after sunrise echoed in my head as if it was at the Gates of Hell. I opened the door to see the formidable form of Father Theodore, one of Esaias's most feared henchman.
“You're up early,” I said.
“Rather, not asleep yet,” he replied. “I see now why people find the sunrise so attractive. Come, we have many places to travel.”
Constantinople is an enormous city, the largest the world has ever seen. Most of the people live clustered along the branch of the Mese that runs from the Akropolis past Blachernae to the gate to the Adrianople road. However, there is a surprising amount of farmland within the city walls, mostly in the western half. Our first stop was at a farmhouse in this area.
“Father Esaias owns this farm?” I asked.
Father Theodore shrugged.
“The man you will be speaking with is named Julian,” he said.
“Is that his true name?”
“As much as mine is Theodore and yours is Feste,” he replied with a slight smile.
“Point taken,” I said.
“The other two are Lontios and Tarasios. We'll see them in that order.”
He knocked on the door, a series of long and short raps, and I heard a bar being withdrawn. It opened to reveal a group of ruffians, some of whom I recognized. They looked at us without surprise.
A young woman was wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, looking exhausted.
“Well?” said Father Theodore.
“Nothing,” she said. “He only opened his mouth to … well, he didn't say anything useful.”
“Never thought he would,” said Father Theodore, handing her some coins. “We'll see you tonight.”
She walked out. Father Theodore waited for a moment, then gestured to two of his men. They slipped out.
“Having her followed in case she's lying,” I observed.
“Of course,” he said. “You're on.”
I tuned my lute and went inside.
Julian was a Greek by appearance, with curly, black hair and a solid build. He was lying on a moldy straw pallet, idly scratching himself. He squinted as the door opened. He winced as he saw my whiteface and motley.
“Great,” he said bleakly. “I've had the wine and the woman. Now comes the song. I should be condemned to death more often.”
“Death?” I asked. “What makes you think that?”
“Come on,” he said impatiently. “I don't want to play games.”
“Nor do I,” I said. “What would you like to hear?”
“Something dirty,” he said.
I launched into a ribald ditty involving a pilgrim and a lusty farmer's daughter that drew a chuckle from him when I reached the punch line.
“You actually made me laugh,” he marveled. “I didn't think I had any left in me.”
“From what they told me, that's up to you,” I said. “Or one of the others.”
“Whoever confesses will have his throat slit,” he said. “And if none of us do, we all die. Where's the incentive?”
“Saving your fellows,” I said. “But I take it they don't mean anything to you.”
“That was the beauty of the plan,” he said. “No possibility of a conspiracy, and we watched each other like three hawks with only one mouse. Lontios and Tarasios can rot in hell for all I care, and they share my brotherly affections.”
“Too bad,” I said. “And the pity of it is, two of you shall die wondering who the best thief was.”
“Until this happened, I would have thought it was me,” he said ruefully. “The strongbox was in a cellar with only one door to it, and that was triple padlocked. We were together in the room outside the entire time, and even if the other two had tried to open it while I was sleeping, the noise of even just one of the padlocks being opened would have had me on my feet going for the nearest weapon inside a heartbeat. Yet in the morning, the padlocks were intact and the strongbox empty.”

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