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

dirty,” I complained. “I washed my hands and face before we performed and had a full bath not a month ago in a stream near Nantes.” I did not make a move to strip off my things.
    â€œNow!” Regal Mary’s hand pressed into the small of my back, pushing me forward again. “Into the tub.”
    â€œMon Dieu!” I cried. “You are going to boil me like a piece of mutton! Does Her Majesty know of this?”
    â€œIt is the queen’s own order,” Pretty Mary said.
    â€œBut the water is hot.”
    â€œOf course it is hot!” Jolly Mary laughed at me. “We could not possibly bathe you in cold, could we?”
    â€œOf course one bathes in cold water,” I said. “Is not a stream cold? And a pond?”
    â€œCome,” said Regal Mary, “or the water will indeed be cold.” They grabbed me and began peeling off my apron and dress.
    There was no point in trying to fight them. Besides, where would I have gone? I wanted to be here. Perhaps this was a test of courage, just as the riddle had been a test of wit. Both to determine if I were worthy of a place at court.
    Suddenly I was quite naked, Pretty Mary having tossed my clothes as far from me as she could. I put one arm across my tiny breasts, shamed that anyone should see me bare, especially these Scottish strangers.
    â€œHow thin she is,” Regal Mary commented, as if I were some piece of horseflesh at a fair.
    â€œYou would be thin, too, if you had had only a baguette to eat today,” I replied, neglecting to mention the cheese or the wine.
    Regal Mary harrumphed and turned her back on me.
    â€œNow, Nicola, are you going to get in by yourself or do we have to throw you in?” Jolly Mary demanded, placing her hands on her hips and fixing me with a determined stare.
    I had no doubt she was quite capable of tossing me into the tub on her own, so I took a reluctant step closer. When I dabbed one finger into the water, I found it was the temperature of soup that had been sitting in the bowl for some time.
    Turning, Regal Mary saw my hand testing the water, and raised a haughty eyebrow. “Hot enough for you, little peasant?” she said. “We can always have more boiled water brought in.”
    There was no way I could delay further, so I lifted up one foot and dipped it in. The bath did not feel so bad! Slowly I climbed in, then lowered myself until the water came to my chin. The warmth seeped through my skin and down into my bones. If this is torture, I thought, what a delicious way to die .
    Pretty Mary handed me a cloth and soap to wash with. I rubbed down my arms and legs and could see that already I was turning the color of a new babe. I laughed at the thought.
    â€œYou will need to wash your hair as well,” said Jolly Mary. And without any more warning than that, she put a hand on the top of my head and shoved me completely under the water.
    For an instant pure fear stabbed at my heart. My entire body remembered the great river Rhone that had swallowed my parents; it remembered the waves, the cries of horror, the black tide. I clutched the edge of the tub with both hands and pushed up as hard as I could.
    Bursting out of the water, I gasped and spluttered, “Maman! Papa!” I screamed, again and again. “Help! Help!”
    At first the three Maries laughed, but they soon stopped when they saw the great fear in my face. And the awful rage.
    â€œYou are trying to drown me,” I cried. “Assassins! Help!”
    At that very moment, Pious Mary came back in with an armful of clothes. My eyes were drawn immediately to the cross she wore, and as I stared at it, all at once I felt safe again.
    She knelt beside me. “Poor child, are you all right?” she asked in her soft voice.
    â€œWe were just trying to wash her hair,” Pretty Mary said.
    â€œShe thought we were trying to drown her,” added Jolly Mary.
    I did not want Pious Mary to think I was