I made my way back upstairs where Drool was standing trouserless by the candle, still sporting enough of an erection to bludgeon a calf senseless.
“Sorry, I came out, Pocket, it were dark.”
“No worries, lad. Good show.”
“She were fit.”
“Aye. Quite.”
“What’s a rhinoceros?”
“It’s like a unicorn with armored bollocks. It’s a good thing. Chew these mint leaves and let’s get you wiped down. Practice your Edmund lines while I look for a towel.”
When the watch rang the second bell, the scene was set. Another storm lantern illuminated the stairs and cast a buxom shadow up the wall.
“Pumpkin!”
“What are you doing here, worm?”
“Just keeping watch. Go in, but leave your lantern with me. Edmund is shy about the injury he has inflicted on himself in your honor.”
Goneril grinned at the prospect of the bastard’s pain and went in.
A few minutes passed before Oswald crept up the stairs.
“Fool? You’re still alive?”
“Aye.” I held my hand up to my ear. “But listen to the children of the night—what music they make.”
“Sounds like a moose trying to shit a family of hedgehogs,” said the scoundrel.
“Oh, that’s good. I was thinking more of moo cow being beaten with a flaming goose, but you may have it. Ah, who’s to say? We should leave, good Oswald, and give the lovers their privacy.”
“Did you not meet with Princess Regan?”
“Oh, we changed the rendezvous to the fourth bell of the watch, why?”
SIXTEEN
A STORM RISING
The storm blew in during the night. I was eating my breakfast in the kitchen when a row erupted in the courtyard. I heard Lear bellow and left to attend him, leaving my porridge with Drool. Kent intercepted me in the corridor.
“So the old man lived through the night?” said I.
“I slept at his door,” said Kent. “Where were you?”
“Trying to see two princesses ruthlessly shagged and starting a civil war, thank you, and with no proper supper, neither.”
“Fine feast,” said Kent. “Ate till I nearly burst just to see the king went unpoisoned. Who is bloody St. Stephen, anyway?”
Then I saw Oswald coming down the corridor.
“Good Kent, go see that the daughters don’t kill the king, and that Cornwall doesn’t kill Edmund, and that the sisters don’t kill each other, and if you can help it, don’t kill anyone. It’s too early for killing.”
Kent hurried off as Oswald reached me.
“So,” said Oswald, “you lived through the night?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” I asked.
“Well, because I told Cornwall of your rendezvous with Regan and I expected him to slay you.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Oswald, show a little guile, would you? The state of villainy in this castle is rubbish, what with Edmund being pleasant and you being straightforward. What’s next, Cornwall starts feeding orphans while bloody bluebirds fly out of his bum? Now, let’s try it again, see if you can at least keep up a pretense of evil. Go.”
“So, you lived through the night?” said Oswald.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” I asked.
“Oh, no reason, I was worried about you.”
I clouted Oswald on the ear with Jones. “No, you nitwit, I’d never believe you’re concerned for my welfare—you’re a right weasel, aren’t you?”
He made to reach for his sword and I hit his wrist a vicious blow with Jones’s stick end. The villain leapt back and rubbed his bruised wrist.
“Despite your incompetence, our agreement stands. I need you to consult with Edmund. Give him this letter from Regan.” I handed him the letter I’d written at first light. Regan’s hand was easy to duplicate. She dotted her i’s with hearts. “Don’t break the seal, it professes her devotion for him, but instructs him to show no outward affection for her. You must also caution him against showing any deference to your lady Goneril in front of Regan. And because I know the intrigue confuses you, let me map out your interest here. Edmund will dispatch your Lord Albany, thus releasing your lady to other affections, only then will we reveal to Cornwall that Edmund has cuckolded him with Regan, and the duke will dispatch the bastard, at which time, I will cast the love spell on Goneril, sending her into your own ferrety arms.”