Fool's Paradise. Tori Phillips

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      Touching it, Tarleton smiled.

      “This? Nay, ‘twas no love token. I paid good money for it at Canterbury some years back. ‘Tis a pilgrim’s badge.”

      Elizabeth gaped at him in surprise. The jester did not seem the religious type. “You went on a pilgrimage to pray at Canterbury?”

      He laughed and winked at her. “Aye, chuck, to prey upon the pilgrims. I did right well by them, too. I bought this badge, in case of later need.” He dropped his hat in her lap.

      “I don’t understand,” she said, running her finger over the worn design. “What later need?”

      “To sell it for bread, if necessary. It’s made of good silver. Or…” He grinned wickedly. “In case I want to give it to a maiden. Ah, but she must be a very special maiden for me to part with that.”

      Elizabeth could feel another one of those hated blushes starting. She chose to ignore his last remark and quickly changed the subject. “Why is it in the shape of an A? For St. Thomas à Becket?”

      “Nay—for Amor. Amor vincit omnia. It means—”

      “‘Love conquers all,’” Elizabeth easily translated.

      Tarleton nodded his approval. “You know your Latin, I see.”

      “And French. The nuns educated me well,” she added. She handed the hat back to him. “Your pin needs polishing.

      “Why, then, prentice boy, you can do that this very evening. I have in mind a goodly house where we will spend this night.”

      “Is this house as goodly as last night’s lodging?” Elizabeth arched her eyebrow at him. She was not going to be duped again.

      “Nay, chuck.” He laughed at her new worldly wisdom. “Truly, it is a fine house. Not as large as Esmond Manor, but a welcome one all the same. I have entertained there many a time. And, to while away the miles, I have in mind another song to teach you.”

      “Another one?” Elizabeth glared up at him, but he only laughed again.

      “I should make you angry more often for, verily, your eyes flash a green lightning that is most wondrous to behold. But, in faith, the song is one that will please you. “Tis called the ‘Wooing of Robin Hood,’ and we shall sing it in duet. You be Maid Marian while I am bold Robin! ‘Tis a song we shall sing round the table tonight.”

      “We are to entertain again tonight, Tarleton?” Elizabeth felt the return of butterflies to the pit of her stomach.

      “Aye, prentice, and every night if we want to eat and sleep in safety.”

      “But, Tarleton, you forget I have money. We could hire a carriage at the next inn we come to. There is no need for us to—”

      Tarleton’s eyes glittered darkly. Grabbing her roughly by the shoulders, he shook her hard. “There is need! You still don’t realize all the dangers of traveling Her Majesty’s highways. Who would ride as your protection? Me? I am but one man—and a coward to boot. I own no sword, only a dagger. Would you hire other men—ones who just happened to be loitering about this inn you speak of? What makes you think you could trust strangers you hire? Ha! They would take your fine carriage to a lonely stretch of the road.”

      Tarleton’s eyes narrowed as he thrust his face into hers. “Can you guess what your protectors would do then, fair lady?” His voice sank into an icy whisper. “First, they would take all your money, then your jewelry, then they would strip you of your fine satins and velvets. And when they saw your sweet body, do you think it would end there? Nay! They would throw you to the ground. Two of them would hold you down while the third one would—”

      All the color drained from Elizabeth’s face. “Stop it!” She beat against his chest with her fists. Tears streamed down her face, making wide tracks through the dust from the road. “Stop tormenting me so! Please!” Her voice choked as great racking sobs engulfed her.

      Gathering her into his arms, Tarleton held her snugly. “Hush, sweetling! That will not happen to you—not while I live.” His lips brushed the top of her head. The soft silk of her hair set him afire. Torturing himself, he kissed her golden crown again. “You are safe in your dirty face and ragged shoes. Dry your eyes, chuck.”

      “You frightened me,” she mumbled into the folds of his woolen jacket. He smelled of wood smoke, meadow grass and new-turned earth. She relaxed within the protective warmth of his arms.

      “Aye! I meant to frighten you, and I won’t apologize for it. ‘Twas to make you understand the dangers, sweet one.”

      A hot fountain of desire boiled up from the deep wellspring inside him. Tarleton quickly released Elizabeth before she became aware of his body’s need. “Methinks you should visit a pump. And there will be one anon, I promise.” He coughed to cover the huskiness in his voice.

      

      Once the jester and his slim apprentice turned onto the main highway between Oxford and Coventry, they encountered many fellow travelers from all classes of society.

      A young couple, newly married, were journeying to the groom’s father’s house. The bride looked no more than sixteen, and she blushed shyly when Tarleton kissed her on the cheek, wishing them the blessing of many children. Elizabeth watched the newlyweds with an envious pang in her heart. Sir Robert La Faye had never once looked at Elizabeth like the boy did his bride. She sighed wistfully as the couple continued on their way, hand in hand.

      “A penny for your thoughts, for they must be rich indeed,” Tarleton asked.

      “Did her father arrange her marriage?”

      “That lass? Nay, ‘tis a love match. There’s not a dowry to be had of her, save her sweet smile. Why?” Though Tarleton suspected he knew the answer.

      “I pray nightly for a husband who would make me as happy as that,” she replied.

      “And to that prayer I say amen,” Tarleton replied softly.

      A peddler was a welcome chance encounter in the early afternoon. Grizzled, with a steel gray beard and twinkling blue eyes, he hailed them as long-lost friends.

      “Tarleton, you old rogue! The devil hasn’t caught ye yet?” These were his first words of greeting, then he spied Elizabeth. “What changeling is this? Does he look any better when he’s been washed?”

      “Aye, Patch, he does. “Tis my prentice, Robin. Mind your manners, boy, and give Master Patch here a pretty bow.”

      Elizabeth played her part as she was told. Tarleton’s recent warning about the hazards of the road was still fresh in her mind.

      “What’s the news, old friend?” Tarleton asked him, when the three of them were comfortably settled behind a low stone wall in a nearby field. “Does the Queen still keep court at Hampton?”

      “Aye, she was there a fortnight past, and I hear tell she will tarry there until after the harvest festival,” Patch answered with a broad grin.

      The peddler then recounted a long, rambling story СКАЧАТЬ