“There’s more to you than that, you black-hatted rascal. I’ve seen them wicked daggers at your back, and I can see who’s pulling the strings round this castle, and it ain’t the duke or the old king. Kill the bastard.”
“Edmund beated me,” said Drool. “And she do have smashing knockers.”
“Drool!”
“Well, she do.”
“All right, then,” said I, taking the laundress’s hand. “But in time. We’ve things to accomplish first.” I bowed over her hand, kissed it, then turned on my heel and padded barefoot out of the laundry to set history.
“Heinous fuckery,” Drool whispered to the laundress with a wink.
I hid Drool in the gatehouse among the heavy chains that I had used for my escape when I pursued Lear into the storm. Getting the lummox up on the wall and to the gatehouse undetected was no small task, and he left a dripping trail on the stones until we gained the castle exterior, but the guard was light in the tempest, so most of the way we went across the top of the walls unseen. My feet felt as if they’d been set in ice by the time I came back in to a fire, but there was no other way. Drool in the tight space of the secret tunnel, with his fear of the dark was not something I would wish on an enemy. I found a woolen blanket and wrapped the lout in it to await my return.
“Guard my shoes and my satchel, Drool.”
I made my way, dodging from nook to cranny, through the kitchen, to the servants’ entrance into the great hall, hoping I might get a moment with Regan there. The hall’s massive fireplace would be an enticement for the princess on such a frigid day, for as much as she took to the activities of a dungeon, she was drawn to heat like a cat.
Because Castle Gloucester had no curtain wall, even the great hall was fitted with arrow loops, so the edifice might be defended at all levels from an attack by water. The arrow loops, while shuttered, were notoriously drafty, so arrases[40] were hung over the alcoves against the wind—the perfect place for a fool to watch, warm himself, and find his moment.
I slipped into the room behind a brace of serving girls and into the alcove nearest the fireplace. She was there, by the fire, in a heavy, hooded, black fur robe, only her face revealed to the world.
I pulled the tapestry aside and was about to call to her when the latch was thrown on the hall’s main doors and the Duke of Cornwall entered, wearing his usual finery with the red lion crest on his chest, but more pointedly, Lear’s crown—the one the old man had thrown on the table that fateful night at the White Tower. Even Regan seemed startled to see it on the head of her husband.
“My lord, is it prudent to wear the crown of Britain when our sister is still in the castle?”
“Right, right, we must keep up appearances as if we don’t know that Albany raises an army against us.” Cornwall took the crown off and hid it under a cushion by the hearth. “I am to meet Edmund here and lay a plan for the duke’s undoing. One hopes that your sister can be kept out of harm’s way.”
Regan shrugged. “If she throws herself under destiny’s hooves, who are we to save her brains from being pulped?”
Cornwall took her in his arms and kissed her passionately.
Oh lady, thought I, push him away lest you debase your lovely lips with villainy. Then it occurred to me, and perhaps rather later than it should have, that she would no more taste villainy than a garlic eater will taste the stinking rose on another. The lady had evil on her breath already.
Even as the duke held her tight and professed his adoration of her, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve behind his back. She pushed the duke away when the bastard Edmund entered the hall.
“My lord,” said Edmund, only nodding to Regan. “Our plans for Albany must be delayed. Look at this letter.”
The duke took the parchment from Edmund.
“What?” said Regan. “What, what, what?”
“France has landed forces. He knows of unrest between ourselves and Albany and has hidden forces in coastal cities all over Britain.”
Regan snatched the parchment out of Cornwall’s hand and read it for herself. “This is addressed to Gloucester.”
Edmund bowed in false contrition. “Aye, milady, I found it in his closet and brought it here as soon as I saw its contents.”
“Guard!” called Cornwall. The great doors opened and a soldier looked in. “Bring me the Earl of Gloucester. Give no deference to his title, he is a traitor.”
I looked for a way back to the kitchen, to perhaps find Gloucester and warn him of the bastard’s treachery, but Edmund faced the alcove where I was hiding and there was no getting out undiscovered. I opened the shutter to the arrow loop. Even if I could manage to wiggle through it, the wall was a sheer drop to the lake below. I palmed the shutter closed and latched it.
The latch on the main doors clanked again and I returned to the gap between the wall and the tapestry, from which I saw Goneril enter, trailed by two soldiers who held Gloucester by the arms. The old man looked as if he had given up already and hung between the soldiers like a drowned man.
“Hang him,” said Regan, turning to warm her hands by the fire.
“What is this?” said Goneril.
Cornwall handed her the letter and stood looking over her shoulder while she read.
“Pluck out his eyes,” she said, making an effort not to look at Gloucester.
Cornwall took the letter gently from her hand and put his hand on her shoulder in brotherly support. “Leave him to our displeasure, sister. Edmund, keep our sister company and see her safely home. Lady, tell your duke we must unite against this foreign force. We’ll send dispatches quickly between us. Go now, Earl of Gloucester, you do not want to see the dealings with this traitor.”
Edmund couldn’t conceal a smile upon being addressed by the title he had lusted after for so many years. “I will,” said Edmund. He offered his arm to Goneril, who took it. They started out of the hall.
“No!” said Regan.
Everyone stopped. Cornwall stepped between Regan and her sister. “Lady, now is the time when we must all be united against the foreign power.”
Regan gritted her teeth and turned back to the fire, waving them away. “Go.”
Edmund and Goneril left the hall.
“Bind him to that chair, then leave us,” Cornwall commanded his soldiers.
They tied the old earl to a heavy chair and stood back.
“You are my guests,” said Gloucester. “Do me no foul play.”
“Filthy traitor,” said Regan. She took the letter from her husband and threw it in the old man’s face. She grabbed a pinch of Gloucester’s beard and yanked it out. The earl yowled.
“So white, and such a traitor,” she said.
“I am no traitor. I am loyal to my king.”
She pulled another pinch from his beard. “What letters do you have late from France? What is their plan?”
Gloucester looked at the parchment on the floor. “I have only that.”
Cornwall charged up to Gloucester and pulled the old man’s head back by the back of his hair. “Speak now, to whose hands have you sent the lunatic king? We know you’ve sent him aid.”
“To Dover. I sent him to Dover. Only a few hours ago.”
“Why Dover?” said Regan.
“Because I would not see your cruel nails pluck out his old eyes or your sister tear his flesh with her boarish fangs. Because there are those who would care for him there. Not put him out in the storm.”
“He lies,” said Regan. “There’s a smashing torture chamber in the dungeon, shall we?”
But Cornwall would not wait. In a second he was sitting astraddle the old man and was digging his thumb into Gloucester’s eye socket. Gloucester screamed until his voice broke and there was a sickening pop.
I reached for one of my throwing daggers.
The main door to the hall cracked and heads popped up in the stairwell from the kitchen.
“Why Dover?” said Regan.
40
Arrases—tapestries and carpets hung across alcoves to cut down on drafts or preserve privacy. In Hamlet, Polonius is stabbed while hiding behind an arras.