Fool (english)

kindness, I cannot deny it.
    The old man tottered over to his tent. One of the pages had been carrying hot stones into the tent for an hour and I felt the heat rush out as the king ducked inside.
    “I’ll be in after I’ve had a wee,” said I. I walked to the edge of the fire’s light and beside a great bare elm was relieving myself when a blue light shimmered in the forest before me.
    “Well, that’s a woolly tuft of lamb wank,” said a woman’s voice, just as the girl ghost stepped out from behind the tree upon which I was weeing.
    “God’s balls, wisp, I’ve almost peed on you!”
    “Careful, fool,” said the ghost, looking frighteningly solid now-just a tad translucent-snowflakes were passing through her. But I was not frightened.
    “Warm thy grateful heart,
    In the king’s family,
    But for his royal crimes,
    You’d not an orphan be.”
    “That’s it?” I asked. “Rhymes and riddles? Still?”
    “All you need for now,” said the ghost.
    “I saw the witches,” said I. “They seemed to know you.”
    “Aye,” said the ghost. “There’s dark deeds afoot at Gloucester, fool. Don’t lose sight.”
    “Sight of what?”
    But she was gone, and I was standing in the woods, my willie in my hand, talking to a tree. On to Gloucester in the morning, and I’d see what I was not to lose sight of. Or some such nonsense.
    Cornwall’s and Regan’s flags flew over the battlements alongside Gloucester’s, showing they had already arrived. Castle Gloucester was a bundle of towers surrounded by a lake on three sides and by a wide moat at the front-no outer curtain wall like the White Tower or Albany, no bailey, just a small front courtyard and a gatehouse that protected the entrance. The city wall, on the land side of the castle, provided the outer defenses for stables and barracks.
    As we approached, a trumpet sounded from the wall announcing us. Drool came running across the drawbridge, his arms held high. “Pocket, Pocket, where have you been? My friend! My friend!”
    I was greatly relieved to see him alive, but the great, simple bear pulled me from my horse and hugged me until I could barely breathe, dancing me in a circle, my feet flying in the air as if I was a doll.
    “Stop licking, Drool, you lout, you’ll wear my hair off.”
    I clouted the oaf on the back with Jones and he yowled. “Ouch. Don’t hit, Pocket.” He dropped me and crouched, hugging himself as if he were his own comforting mother, which he may have been, for all I know. I saw red-brown stains on his shirt back, and so lifted it to see the cause.
    “Oh, lad, what has happened to you?” My voice broke, tears tried to push out of my eyes, and I gasped. The muscular slab of Drool’s back was nearly devoid of skin-his hide had been torn and scabbed over and torn again by a vicious lash.
    “I’ve missed you most awful,” said Drool.
    “Aye, me too, but how happened these stripes?”
    “Lord Edmund says I am an insult to nature and must be punished.”
    Edmund. Bastard.

THIRTEEN – A NEST OF
    VILLAINS
    E dmund. Edmund would have to be dealt with, forces turned on him, and I fought the urge to find the black-hearted fiend and thread one of my throwing daggers between his ribs, but a plan was already in place, or one of sorts, and I still held the purse with the two remaining puffballs the witches had given me. I swallowed my anger and led Drool into the castle.
    “’Lo, Pocket! Is that you, lad?” A Welsh accent. “Is the king with you?”
    I saw the top of a man’s head sticking through the stocks set in the middle of the courtyard. His hair was dark and long and hung in his face. I approached and bent down to see who it was.
    “Kent? You’ve found yourself a cruel collar.”
    “Call me Caius,” said the old knight. “Is the king with you?”
    The poor fellow couldn’t even look up.
    “Aye. On his way. The men are stabling their horses in the town. How came you to be in the stocks?”

    “I tangled with that whoreson Oswald, Goneril’s steward. Cornwall judged me the offender and had me thrown in the stocks. I’ve been here since last evening.”
    “Drool, fetch some water for this good knight,” said I. The giant loped off to find a bucket. I walked around behind Kent, patted him lightly on his bottom.
    “You know, Kent, er-Caius, you are a very attractive man.”
    “You rascal, Pocket, I’ll not be buggered by you.”
    I smacked his bottom again, dust rose from his trousers. “No, no, no, not