Heartless

The duke shut his mouth.

They finished eating in silence, then retired to the sitting room as usual. To Una’s dismay, the duke was asked to join them, and he accepted. He sat in a chair next to Una’s, lit his pipe, and proceeded to puff fumes her way, chuckling quietly to himself when she coughed. She cast desperate glances toward her father, but he was preoccupied with his own thoughts. Felix got out his game of sticks, and the room was quiet but for the clicks of sticks and stifled coughs.

At last the door opened and Leonard stepped in. He still wore his odd yellow suit – only now it was significantly cleaner than when Una had first met him, and there were patches of bright turquoise, orange, and pale pink where once had been only holes. He looked, on the whole, the product of a colorblind quilter’s fancy, which was probably the intent.

He paused in the doorway, taking in the scene before him. Una smiled, but he would not look at her. His gaze rested heavily on the duke, who was dozing over his pipe. Leonard lifted a hand, struck a sour chord on his lute, and cried, “What-ho! A merry bunch you are tonight!”

He sprang into the middle of the room with such a clatter of bells and noise that Una dropped her needle and the duke let out an “Oooof!” as he startled awake.

“Keep it down, jester,” King Fidel said. “We’re glad to see you, but must you resound so?”

“Resound? Your Majesty, I’ve hardly begun to peal!” A strange gleam lit the jester’s eyes, and his smile was not at all pleasant, Una thought. She stared at him, aghast, as he disregarded her father’s command and strummed another loud, discordant sound on his lute. “I’ve written a new song,” he said. “Rather, rewritten an old one in honor of our esteemed guest.”

“That’s decent of you, Fool,” the duke said, tapping ashes from his pipe onto the rug. “I haven’t heard a good song in ages.”

“A good song I cannot promise,” the jester said. “But such a song as it is, I give to you. ‘The Sorry Fate of the Beastly Lout.’ ”

Una’s mouth dropped open as Leonard began to sing a variation of the song he’d sung to her on the day they had met. Only this time he sang with a great, insincere smile on his face.

“With audacity gawky, the Beastly Lout



Would loiter and dawdle and maybe



Try his luck wenching, casting about



To court a most beauteous lady.



“But to his dismay, he was made aware



That his suit was unwelcome before her.



Our poor Beastly Lout felt her pickling stare



’Cause his stories did certainly bore her.



“Ah, sad Beastly Lout, how he tried to be nice,



But his courting just could not amuse her right.



For, you see, his great noggin was covered in lice,



Which is hardly appealing in any light.”



The Duke of Shippening guffawed and slapped his knee. “Now, there’s a song for you!” he cried. “Bravo! Sing another, boy! And how about a round of something to lighten the mood? The rest of you are stiff as pokers!”

This wasn’t entirely true, for Felix was doubled up, trying to keep from barking with laughter while his father scowled down on him. Una had gone pale at the first line, red blotches lining her nose and cheeks.

“Fool!” the duke bellowed. “Sing again, I tell you! Set that tongue of yours to work!”

“No,” King Fidel said, turning his glare on Leonard, who stood straight, his gaze fixed on the wall across the room. “I believe you are done here, jester. Good-bye.”

Leonard bowed and left the room with a last jangle of bells.

“Why, Majesty,” the duke cried, “I haven’t been so amused in years! Is he hired on to you long term? If not – ”

Without asking to be excused, Una leapt up and hurried from the room. The tune of that horrible song rang in her ears along with the duke’s roar of a laugh. Tears filled her eyes as she made her way blindly down the hall.

Someone grabbed her arm, and she found herself pulled into a side corridor, spun about, and face-to-face with the jester.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she cried, shaking his hand away. Her heart pounded, and she thought she would choke on the words garbled in her throat. “Insulting our how could you, you’ve gone and what were you – ”

“You can’t marry that lout,” he said, his voice thick, almost menacing. Leonard looked down on her, his eyes so huge and frightening that she had to cover her face with her hands.

“I don’t intend to marry that lout!” she growled, able to speak when she did not look at him. “I have no intention of marrying anyone, not that it is any of your business!”

“M’lady – ”

“You’ve gone and gotten yourself discharged, you fool!”

Anne Elisabeth Stengl's books