Queen's Own Fool by Jane Yolen Read Free Book Online

dowager’s parsimony. Certainly the queen will have some costume made up for you.” She cocked her head to one side. “As for your duties—well, there are always fools at court. You will be above them all, of course, as you are to be the queen’s own fool. And won’t that be a flea in La Folle’s ear. La!”
    I had thought I was to be the queen’s own friend, not her fool. I tried not to let the disappointment show. “If that is what Queen Mary wants.”
    â€œOh, that she does,” said the third of the young women, setting down her embroidery frame. Her face was rounded. While she did not have the fine looks of the other two, there was a vivacity to her that shone out in bright spots of color on her cheeks. She stood up and began viewing me from every angle.
    â€œEven between the four of us, we are not foolish enough for the French court,” she said. “We are too Scottish. We say what we mean without putting pretty twists upon it. The French court prizes the quick answer that says one thing but means another. You—it seems—can do both! And you have nothing to lose.”
    â€œNothing but my head,” I whispered.
    All of a sudden she hooked her arm through mine so briskly I half expected her to hoist me onto her shoulders.
    â€œThey say your name is Nicola.”
    â€œThey say correctly,” I replied. “Do I need to change it as I change my dress, now that I am a fool?”
    This time they all laughed, even the one who had been silent so far, she with the set of amber prayer beads hanging at her waist. Rather plain and still compared to the other three, her large, kind eyes shone in her face like great dark jewels.
    â€œLa—Nicola,” the pretty one said. “Perhaps we are the ones who should change our names, for we Scots are each called Mary.”
    â€œEach?”
    â€œEach! I am Mary Beaton, and this is Mary Fleming, Mary Livingstone, and Mary Seton!” she said, pointing to one after another. Then she clapped her hands together as if she had just performed a great trick and was leading the applause.
    â€œFive. If you count Queen Mary,” added Mary Seton, the one with the prayer beads. “May she live long and rule well.” Her right hand made a quick sign of the cross. She reminded me of the nuns who had taken care of me, and I liked her at once for that.
    â€œI am indeed too foolish to distinguish all of you so quickly,” I said. But I had already made up my mind to think of them as Regal Mary, Pretty Mary, Jolly Mary, and Pious Mary, their actions marking them out even if their clothing did not. However, I was not so foolish as to tell them this. “But you will all know me, lest they change my name to Mary as well.”
    â€œYou may keep your name, little ninny,” said Jolly Mary Livingstone, leading me away. “Four Maries is enough. But these awful clothes—pah! They will have to go. ” She tugged at the sleeve of my threadbare dress. “The dowager would have you put down like a dog for wearing such a thing.”
    â€œNicola seems my size,” Pious Mary observed. “I will give her my other mourning gown till the seamstress can come. But clean her up well or she will soil the good cloth.” She picked up one end of a tapestry and disappeared through a door hidden behind it.

7
    THE BATH
    C ome,” Jolly Mary said. ”We are well prepared for you.”
    They led me into a small inner chamber where there was a steaming wooden tub sitting on the stone floor. I had never seen any pot big enough to heat this much water before. I looked under it but there was no flame. How many times must someone have emptied a kettle into it! And for what purpose?
    Jolly Mary let go of my arm and said, “Now take off that hideous apron and dress. The kerchief as well. And the cap. I am certain you are going to look lovely when you are clean.”
    â€œClean? But I am not