Take the ring!
But he didn’t want to take the ring. He wanted to declare himself to her. To tell her his true name and purpose, to beg her not to receive the Duke of Shippening’s suit. To ask her to wait for him until he had reclaimed his kingdom.
But instead Lionheart crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue so that Una laughed that adorable laugh of hers and exclaimed, “Clown!”
“The things you call me,” he said, sweeping another bow with a jangle of his bell-covered hat. “M’lady, the day lengthens. If I do not return you home soon, questions will be asked, and do you think this humble floor-scrubber will escape a kicking from his superiors for hindering a princess in her daily schedule?”
He offered his arm, and she accepted it, allowing him to lead her back up the hill, away from the Old Bridge. She didn’t let go until they had reached the top tier of the garden, where they parted ways.
Foolish prince, the Lady hissed. How do you expect me to fulfill your dreams if you will not obey me?
But for the moment, Lionheart didn’t care. His mind was full of Una.
And the duke.
Shippening and his entourage arrived at Oriana five days later.
Lionheart saw him emerge from his carriage, enormous, full of self-importance. A great imbecile who didn’t deserve to look at the princess, much less woo her.
The words of Captain Sunan of the Kulap Kanya returned to Lionheart even as he watched the duke enter King Fidel’s household. “He is not the buffoon he projects to the world. And his alliances are strong, though even I cannot guess at them.”
Lionheart clenched his fists. Buffoon or not, the Duke of Shippening should never have Princess Una.
The Fool was called upon to entertain the family that night. So Lionheart tuned his lute, adorned himself in jester’s clothing, set the ridiculous hat on his head, and smiled. He would entertain all right. He was not afraid of Shippening.
After supper, the family retired to the primary sitting room. When Lionheart entered, he found Una seated across from Shippening, her hands folded and her face very still. What her thoughts were, Lionheart couldn’t guess; but the duke’s thoughts, as he lazily regarded Una between puffs on his pipe, were all too apparent. The man made Lionheart sick.
Princess Una looked up and smiled his way, but he ignored her. Setting his face into a grin, he struck a sour chord on his instrument.
“What-ho! A merry bunch you are tonight!” he cried, springing to the center of the room, making as much clatter and noise as he could. Shippening grunted and sat up, fixing his gaze upon the jester. Lionheart’s smile grew. He knew the duke, too full of himself to recall a serving boy, would not remember him.
“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!” He strummed another loud, discordant set of strings. “I’ve written a new song,” he said. “Rather, rewritten an old one in honor of our esteemed guest.”
The duke emptied his pipe onto the king’s fine rug. His grin was greasy, and his eyes disappeared behind the creases of his face. “That’s decent of you, Fool. I haven’t heard a good song in ages.”
“A good song I cannot promise,” Lionheart said. “But such a song as it is, I give to you. ‘The Sorry Fate of the Beastly Lout.’ ” Then he began to sing:
“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 barked a deep laugh. “Now, there’s a song for you!” he boomed. “Bravo! Sing another, boy! And how about a round of something to lighten the mood? The rest of you are stiff as pokers!”
But Lionheart did not move. He cast a glance Una’s way and saw how still she’d gone, though her younger brother was doubled up with silent laughter.
“Fool!” the duke cried. It was so like the voice he’d used to bully his enslaved jester all those years ago that it made Lionheart shudder. “Sing again, I tell you! Set that tongue of yours to work!”
“No,” King Fidel said. Lionheart felt the king’s gaze upon him. “I believe you are done here, jester. Good-bye.”
Lionheart bowed and left the room.