out of his head, were now sunk into little hammocks of flesh. His long upper lip curled back to show teeth a deeper shade of yellow and even more bucked than I remembered. His long face had grown pendulous and wattled; his hair seemed to have migrated from his head to eyebrows, ears and nostrils. I hardly had time to look at his face. I could not keep my eyes away from the great crucifix that hung at his chest. He had become a priest – by the size of the cross, and the blackness of his robes, a Jesuit at least. He had found his true vocation. I almost put up two fingers in benediction. He moved with stately dignity, as befitted his station, and I smothered a smile. Monsignor Malvolio. And it got better. The Lady Francesca, whom everyone took for Sebastian’s whore, was hanging on his arm, simpering up at him, her pale blue eyes bulging with fawning admiration.
In the old days, what a gift for fooling it would have been. These were not the old days, and this was no time to laugh, but sometimes solemnity only worsens the thing, just as a man on the gallows might notice a bubble of snot in the nose of the hangman, or a gob of egg on his chin. The desire grows until it can no longer be controlled. Every time I looked at him, I could see Sir Toby and Maria. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my cheek; I tried to think of other things. He was speaking now. Below his long nose, his upper lip quivered like the tip of an oliphant’s trunk. I couldn’t listen. Soon the tears were leaking and I was shaking. The laughter backed up until I could hold it no longer; I had to let it out or my bladder would give way. Sometimes laughter spreads like a contagion, with no man knowing quite why he is joining in. So it was now. My laughter spread through the hall like a quick-running fire, until all were roaring, except for Sebastian and Malvolio.
‘What ails you, man?’ Malvolio was shouting at me through the din. ‘Have you lost your wits?’
‘Aye, I fear so, master. I’m a Fool!’
The laughter redoubled even though, as jokes go, it was in every way feeble. After laughing at nothing, men will find anything funny.
‘Feste! You always were a barren rascal,’ Malvolio snarled. ‘Amusing nobody but yourself!’
Robbed of speech, I gestured round at the laughter.
‘You never made me laugh!’
‘Quite so, my master,’ I said, wiping the tears from my eyes. ‘Even the God of Laughter could not do that.’
‘Enough of this roar!’ Sebastian shouted through the noise, hammering on the table. ‘You!’ He pointed at me. ‘We’ll see how funny you can be when you are chained to an oar night and day. Get them out of here!’
The laughter died in my throat as Malvolio put out his long white hand to claim Violetta.
My lady was not his only prize. Venetian sailors and Uskok pirates were bringing in booty to be tallied and portioned. It looked like they were taking all the wealth of Illyria, and Sebastian did nothing to stop them. This was their share. Their help had come at a price. These were godless men. They handled crucifixes, gold crosses, jewelled Bibles and precious icons as if they were sticks of furniture. A Venetian captain came in bearing the most precious relic of all, the Cup of the Magi. This was not added to the other plunder from the cathedral. He brought it straight to Malvolio, who took it into his charge.
.
10
‘This fellow is wise enough to play the fool’
Violetta stood up and began pacing the small room. Recounting the story had made her restless, agitated, reminding her of how far they were from their purpose.
‘That’s the reason we are here. Feste and I escaped from our different captivities and we have been following this man, Malvolio, ever since. He is here and he has our precious relic in his possession. He stole it from us.’ She turned to Will. ‘You must understand. The relic is Illyria. The country grew from the city, and the relic was the reason for our city’s foundation. Since my
In the old days, what a gift for fooling it would have been. These were not the old days, and this was no time to laugh, but sometimes solemnity only worsens the thing, just as a man on the gallows might notice a bubble of snot in the nose of the hangman, or a gob of egg on his chin. The desire grows until it can no longer be controlled. Every time I looked at him, I could see Sir Toby and Maria. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my cheek; I tried to think of other things. He was speaking now. Below his long nose, his upper lip quivered like the tip of an oliphant’s trunk. I couldn’t listen. Soon the tears were leaking and I was shaking. The laughter backed up until I could hold it no longer; I had to let it out or my bladder would give way. Sometimes laughter spreads like a contagion, with no man knowing quite why he is joining in. So it was now. My laughter spread through the hall like a quick-running fire, until all were roaring, except for Sebastian and Malvolio.
‘What ails you, man?’ Malvolio was shouting at me through the din. ‘Have you lost your wits?’
‘Aye, I fear so, master. I’m a Fool!’
The laughter redoubled even though, as jokes go, it was in every way feeble. After laughing at nothing, men will find anything funny.
‘Feste! You always were a barren rascal,’ Malvolio snarled. ‘Amusing nobody but yourself!’
Robbed of speech, I gestured round at the laughter.
‘You never made me laugh!’
‘Quite so, my master,’ I said, wiping the tears from my eyes. ‘Even the God of Laughter could not do that.’
‘Enough of this roar!’ Sebastian shouted through the noise, hammering on the table. ‘You!’ He pointed at me. ‘We’ll see how funny you can be when you are chained to an oar night and day. Get them out of here!’
The laughter died in my throat as Malvolio put out his long white hand to claim Violetta.
My lady was not his only prize. Venetian sailors and Uskok pirates were bringing in booty to be tallied and portioned. It looked like they were taking all the wealth of Illyria, and Sebastian did nothing to stop them. This was their share. Their help had come at a price. These were godless men. They handled crucifixes, gold crosses, jewelled Bibles and precious icons as if they were sticks of furniture. A Venetian captain came in bearing the most precious relic of all, the Cup of the Magi. This was not added to the other plunder from the cathedral. He brought it straight to Malvolio, who took it into his charge.
.
10
‘This fellow is wise enough to play the fool’
Violetta stood up and began pacing the small room. Recounting the story had made her restless, agitated, reminding her of how far they were from their purpose.
‘That’s the reason we are here. Feste and I escaped from our different captivities and we have been following this man, Malvolio, ever since. He is here and he has our precious relic in his possession. He stole it from us.’ She turned to Will. ‘You must understand. The relic is Illyria. The country grew from the city, and the relic was the reason for our city’s foundation. Since my
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