Queen's Own Fool by Jane Yolen Page A

evenly. “Even a king is bound by the rules.”
    â€œWell, he should not be,” the king protested. “We prefer the way our fool thinks.” He snatched up a piece and moved it carelessly across the board.
    â€œYou have placed your king in great danger,” the duke chided. “That move will give me checkmate.” He picked up one of his castles very precisely between two beringed fingers. But before he could place it, a crazed war cry shook the room.
    La Folle came galloping across the room, making a mock charge at the duke and crying, “ Au secours! To the rescue!”
    Instinctively, the duke raised an arm even as the dwarf tried to pull up short. However, she had left it too late, and her slippers skidded on an uncarpeted part of the floor. Barging feet-first into the table, she overturned the board and scattered the pieces.
    The queen and I jumped back to avoid the cascade and La Folle collapsed on her bottom, her sword clattering to the floor.
    â€œWe have been saved by the Queen of the Amazons,” giggled the king, thoroughly enjoying the duke’s discomfiture.
    Gritting his teeth, the duke angrily leaped to his feet, tossing aside the ebony castle that was still gripped between his fingers.
    â€œClumsy buffoon,” he hissed at La Folle, so enraged that I believe he would have lashed out at her had he a weapon to hand.
    Luckily for the dwarf, however, the duke’s attention was distracted when the door flew open and an officer dressed in rough riding clothes burst into the room. The man had not even taken the time to wipe the mud from his boots before coming into the royal presence.
    â€œI bring word of La Renaudie!” he gasped and knelt down.
    The duke hurried across the room and held a hushed but urgent conversation with the messenger before dismissing him.
    â€œFetch my sword and pistol,” the duke ordered one of his servants.
    â€œWhat has happened?” I whispered hurriedly to the queen, but she seemed not to hear me. “What is La Renaudie?”
    â€œCome, Your Majesties,” the duke said, turning to the king and queen, “we must leave Blois at once.”
    â€œAt once? But we had planned to go hawking in the morning,” the king objected, his voice rising to a squeak.
    The queen put a hand on his arm. “Listen to Uncle, my dear.”
    â€œMust it be at once?” the king asked again.
    The duke looked at the king with narrowing eyes. “At once, Your Majesty. If we make a wrong move now there will be no one to save us by knocking over the board unless it be God Himself. ”

13
    THE GARDEN AT AMBOISE
    I had not known the court to move with such haste. One would have thought the palace at Blois was about to collapse around us. Servants and soldiers darted about like stags driven by dogs. I could not guess the reason for all this hasty activity, and no one I asked—from stable boy to waiting maid—could tell me.
    Without even riding costumes or proper cloaks, the members of the court were bustled into carriages guarded by mounted troops, something that had never happened before.
    â€œAre we in danger?” I asked a cook I knew.
    He shrugged. “We—or they?” he asked, pointing to the nobles.
    When I asked the same question of a soldier hurrying by, he waved me away with irritation.
    I finally saw the king on a fidgety brown mare. He wore a sword whose red hilt matched his coat and looked the very dandy, though there were two red spots of fever on his cheeks.
    â€œSire,” I cried out, thinking to ask him. But the duke rode between us.
    â€œIt would be better, Your Majesty,” the duke called out, “if you stayed in the carriage with the queen.”
    â€œI am the king!” King Francis said stubbornly. “It is my duty to lead our cavalry, even in a retreat.” He spoke with such unusual authority that de Guise had no option but to let him go, though I could see from the