The Romantic Prince by Raphael Sabatini

Author:Raphael Sabatini
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: House of Stratus

Chapter 17

The Fool’s Philosophy

The Burgundian lieutenant sat over the remains of a generous supper, savouring with his Fool a jug of Rhenish that had been mulled and spiced. They occupied a cosy chamber adjacent to the great draughty hall of the Gravenhof. It was hung with Flemish tapestries, and lighted by a lamp suspended from the groined ceiling. A heaped-up fire of logs blazed and spluttered in the cavernous fireplace.

The Fool was busy on a song that should express the whole of his philosophy of life. In these amiable labours he was disturbed by his master.

“I think,” said the Governor, “that we have now rounded up all the game.”

This in allusion to the five arrests he had that day effected in Middelburg.

“And I think,” he added a moment later, “that when these Middelburg traitors have been hanged there will be an end of plots against the government of the Duke’s highness and we shall be able to take our ease.”

“Amen!” said the Fool. “Our ease is what we desire above all else, whether the burghers hang or not.”

“Oh, they will hang,” the Governor assured him.

“All the five of them?” The tone implied a doubt.

“Why not? Whom would you except?”

“Myself, none; for I cannot imagine that any of them will be missed. But there’s the evidence. It may give four of them to the hangman. I’ve a doubt of the fifth.”

“You mean Danvelt? There’s his letter.”

“He swears he can prove it isn’t his. If he can, he goes back to his beautiful wife. Poor soul! I hope for her sake that he can’t.”

The Governor was considering. “He demands that I send a courier to his friend, Count Anthony of Guelders. His friend, mark you.”

The Fool laughed. His laughter had the peculiarity of being either seen or heard; but never both at the same time. In this instance the grimace of laughter was on his face, but no sound of it came forth.

“Well, that can’t be done at present. The Count is with the army before Liège, and will have enough to engage him. He would resent any such message even on behalf of his friend Danvelt.”

The Governor looked at him. “What do you conceive to be the link between so oddly assorted a pair?”

The Fool thought that he knew, and said what he thought he knew. But he said nothing of how he came by the knowledge.

“The burgher has a comely – an exceptionally comely wife. Unless it be that, I can’t think what it is.”

“You foulness! Is that a thing to say of the austere and chaste Count Anthony?”

“I take no man’s reputation on trust,” said the Fool. “Reputations are notoriously fallacious. How can they be otherwise? To himself a man is what he thinks he is; to others what he appears to be. The real man is known to his Maker alone. Count Anthony is a poet. But then he is also a man. Count Anthony the poet may impose his ideals upon Count Anthony the man. But Count Anthony the man may not always accept them.

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