Fool Chapter 9

NINETOIL AND TROUBLESo why is it that we atomic number 18 going to Great Birnam Wood to construe for witches? asked Kent as we made our management across the moor. There was only a slight breeze only it was c all over c honest-to-goodness, what with the mist and the gloom and my despair over major power Jeff. I pulled my woolen cape around me.Bloody Scotland, verbalise I. Albany is by chance the darkest, dampest, coldest slanty crevice in all of Blighty. Sodding Scots.Witches? reminded Kent.Because the bloody wraith told me Id find my answers here.Ghost?The girl ghost at the White Tower, declare up, Kent. Rhymes and riddles and such. I told him of the grave murderense to daughters three and the madman rising to three the blind.Kent nodded as if he understood. And Im along becauseBecause it is dark and I am itsy-bitsy.You world power create asked Curan or one of the some differents. Im reticent about witches.Nonsense. Theyre just desire physicians, only without the bleeding. Nothing to fear.In the day, when Lear was still Christian, we did not do comfortably by witches. Ive had a c blindload of curses cast on me.Not very effective, though, were they? Youre child-frighteningly old and still strong as a bull.I am banished, penniless, and have it aside under the threat of death upon discovery of my physical body.Oh, good point. Brave of you to come, thence.Aye, thanks, lad, however Im not feeling it. Whats that light?There was a fire forrader in the wood, and figures moving around it.Stealthy, now, good Kent. Let us lift up silently and see what is to be seen before revealing ourselves. Now, creep, Kent, you crashing gravid ox, creep.And with tho two steps my strategy revealed its flaw.Youre jingling like a coin purse possessed of fits, tell Kent. You couldnt creep up on the deaf nor dead. Silence your bloody bells, Pocket.I placed my coxcomb on the ground. I can leave my hat, and Ill not take off my shoes well surrender all stealth i f Im screaming from trodding tender-footed across lizards, thorns, hedgehogs, and the lot.Here, then, give tongue to Kent, pulling the remains of the pork shoulder from his satchel. Dampen your bells with the fat.I embossed an centrebrow quizzically an unappreciated and overly subtle gesture in the dark then shrugged and began worqueen the suet into the bells at my walks and ankles.There I agitate a leg to the satisfying sound of nothing at all. precedentCreep we did, until we were just outside the halo of firelight. Three bent- stickered hags were walking a slack up circle around a big cauldron, dropping in twisted bits of this and that as they chanted. Double, double, toil and troubleFire burn, and cauldron bubble. Witches, utter Kent, paying tri notwithstandinge to the god of all things bloody fucking obvious.Aye, utter I, in lieu of clouting him. (Jones stayed behind to guard my hat.) Eye of newt and toe of frog,Wool of bat and tongue of dog,Adders fork and blind-wor ms sting,Lizards leg and ow permits wing,For a watch of powerful trouble,Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. They double-bubbled the chorus and we were readying ourselves for another(prenominal) verse of the chemical formula when I felt something brush against my leg. It was all I could do not to cry out. I felt Kents hand on my shoulder.Steady, lad, its just a cat.Another brush, and a meow. Two of them now, licking my bells, and purring. (It sounds more than pleasant than it was.) Its the bloody pork fat, I talk.A third feline joined the gang. I stood on one foot, trying to hold the other above their heads, that while I am an accomplished acrobat, the art of levitation still eludes me thus my ground-bound foot became my Achilles heel, as it were. One of the fiends sank its fangs into my ankle.Fuckstockings express I, slightly emphatically. I hopped, I whirled, I made disparaging remarks toward all creatures of the feline aspect. Hissing and yowling ensued. When at last the ca ts retreated, I was sitting splayed-legged by the fire, Kent stood contiguous to me with his sword drawn and ready, and the three hags stood in ranks across the cauldron from us.Back, witches say Kent. You may curse me into a toad, except theyll be the last actors line out of your mouths while your heads are attached.Witches? express the first witch, who was greenest of the three. What witches? We are but low-spirited washerwomen, making our way in the wood.Rendering laundry service, humble and good, state witch two, the tallest.All it be, is as it should, tell witch three, who had a wicked wart over her right eye.By Hecates27 night-tarred nipples, stop riming give tongue to I. If youre not witches, what was that curse you were bubbling about?Stew, state Warty.Stew, yammer most true, state Tall.Stew most blue, tell Green.Its not blue, verbalize Kent, looking in the cauldron. More of a brown.I know, said Green, but brown doesnt rhyme, does it, love?Im looking for witches, said I.Really? said Tall.I was sent by a ghost.The hags looked at one another, then tail at me. Ghost told you to bring your laundry here, did it? said Warty.Youre not washerwomen Youre bloody witches And thats not stew, and the bloody ghost of the bloody White Tower said to seek you here for answers, so can we get about it, ye baffling knots of erect vomitus?Ah, were toads for sure now, sighed Kent.Always a bloody ghost, innit? said Tall.What did she look like? asked Green.Who? The ghost? I didnt say it was a she What did she look like, muggins? snarled Warty.I suppose I shall pass my geezerhood eating bugs and hiding under leaves until some crone drops me in a cauldron, mused Kent, leaning on his sword now, watching moths dart into the fire.She was ghostly pale, said I, all in white vaporous, with fair hair and She was fit,28 though? asked Tall. Lovely, you susceptibility even say?Bit more transparent than I trade for in my wenches, but aye, she was fit.Aye, said Warty, l ooking to the others, who huddle with her.When they came up, Green said, introduce your business, then, blackjack. Why did the ghost send you here?She said you could help me. I am fool to the court of King Lear of Britain. He has sent away his youngest daughter, Cordelia, of whom I am somewhat fond hes given my apprentice fool, Drool, to that pawl bastard Edmund of Gloucester, and my friend Taster has been poisoned and is quite dead.And dont forget that theyre going to wait on you at dawn, added Kent.Dont concern yourselves with that, ladies, said I. About to be hanged is my status quo, not a condition that requires your repair.The hags huddled again. There was much whispering and a bit of hissing. They broke their conference and Warty, who was the apparent coven leader, said, That Lears a nasty human race of work.Last time he went Christian a score of witches were drowned, said Tall.Kent nodded, and looked at his shoes. The Petite Inquisition not a high point.Aye, we were a d ecade spelling them all back to life for the revenge, said Warty. rosemary here still seeps pond-water from the ears on damp days, said Tall.Aye, and carps ate my small toes while I was pond-bottom, said Green.Her toes thus gefilted,29 we had to seek an enchanted catamount and take two of his for replacement.rosemary (who was Green) nodded gravely.Goes through shoes in a fortnight, but theres no better witch to chase a squirrel up a direct, said Tall.Thats true, said Rosemary.Beats the burnings, though, said Warty.Aye, thats true, said Tall. No amount of cat toesll fix you if youve all your bits burnt off. Lear had him some burnings as well.Im not here on behalf of Lear, said I. Im here to correct the passion hes done.Well, why didnt you say so? said Rosemary.Were always keen on sending a bit of the mayhem Lears way, said Warty. Shall we curse him with leprosy?By your leave, ladies, I dont wish the old mans undoing, only the undoing of his deeds.A childlike curse would be easier, said Tall. A bit o bat saliva in the cauldron and we can have him walking on cook feet before breakfast. Make him quack, too, if youve a shilling or a freshly-strangled infant for the service. I just want my friends and my home back, said I.Well, if you cant be persuaded, let us have a consult, said Rosemary. Parsley, Sage, a moment? She waved the other witches over to an old oak where they whispered.Parsley, Sage, and Rosemary? said Kent. What, no Thyme?Rosemary wheeled on him. Oh, weve the time if youve the inclination, handsome.Jolly good show, hag said I. I liked these crones, they had a fine-edged wit.Rosemary rolled her good eye at the earl, lifted her skirts, aimed her withered bottom at Kent, and rubbed a palsy claw over it. Round and firm, good knight. Round and firm.Kent gagged a petty and backed away a few steps. Gods save us onward you ghastly carbuncled tartI would have looked away, should have, but I had never seen a green one. A weaker man faculty have plucked o ut his own eyes, but being a philosopher, I knew the sight could never be unseen, so I persevered.Hop on, Kent, said I. Beast-shagging is thy calling and thou surely have been called.Kent backed into a tree and half cold-cocked hims scallywag. He slid down the trunk, dazed.Rosemary dropped her skirts. Just having you on. The crones cackled as they huddled again. Weve a proper toading for you once the fools business is finished, though. A moment, pleaseThe witches whispered for a moment, then resumed their march around the cauldron. Nose of Turk, and Tartars lips,Griffin firing and monkey hips,Mandrake rubbed with tiger nads,To divine undoing for the old king mad. Oh bollocks, said Sage, were all out of monkey hips.Parsley looked into the cauldron and gave it a stir. We can make do without them. You can substitute a fools finger.No, said I.Well, then, get a finger from that comely hunk of man-meat with the bootblack on his beard he seems foolish enough.No, said Kent, still a shade dazed. And its not bootblack, its a clever overwhelm.The witches looked to me. Theres no counting on verity without the monkey hips or fools finger, said Rosemary.I said Let us make do and gallantly bugger on, shall we, ladies?All right, said Parsley, but dont blame us if we bollocks-up your future.There was more stirring and chanting in dead languages, and no little bit of wailing, and finally, when I was about to snooze off, a great bubble rose in the cauldron and when it burst forth it released a cloud of steam that formed itself into a giant face, not unlike the tragedy mask used by traveling players. It glowed against the logy night.Ello, said the giant face, sounding Cockney and a little drunk.Hello, large and steamy face, said I. Fool, Fool, you must save the Drool,Quick to Gloucester, or blood allow pool. Oh, for fucks sake, this one rhymes, too? said I to the witches. Cant a colleague find a straightforward prose apparition?Quiet, fool snapped Sage, who I was back t o thinking of as Warty. To the face, she said, Apparition of darkest power, were clear on the where and the what, but the fool was hoping for some direction of the how variety.Aye. Sorry, said large steamy face. Im not slow, you know, your recipe was short a monkey hip. Well use two next time, said Sage.Well, all right, thenTo reverse the will of a flighty king, mop up his train to clip his wings.To eldest daughters knights be dower,And soon a fool will yield the power. The steamy face grinned.I looked at the witches. So Im to somehow get Goneril and Regan to take Lears knights in addition to everything else they have?He never lies, said Rosemary.Hes often wildly fucking inaccurate, said Parsley, but not a liar.Again, said I to the apparition, good to know what to do and all, but a method to the madness would be most agreeable as well. A strategy, as it were.Cheeky little bastard, ent e? said Steamy to the witches.Want us to put a curse on him? asked Sage.No, no, the lads a rocky r oad ahead without adding a curse to slow him. The apparition cleared his throat (or at least made the throat-clearing noise, as, rigorously speaking, he had no throat). A princess to your will shall bend,If subjugation in a note, you send,And fates of kings and queens shall tell,When bound are passions with a spell. With that, the apparition faded away.Thats it, then? I asked. A couple of rhymes and were finished? I have no idea what Im to do.Bit thick yourself, then, are you? said Sage. Youre to go to Gloucester. Youre to take off Lear from his knights and see that theyre under the power of his daughters. Then youre to write letters of seduction to the princesses and bind their passions with a magic spell. Couldnt be any clearer if it was rhymed.Kent was nodding and shrugging as if the bloody obviousness of it all had sluiced through the wood in an enlightening deluge, leaving me the only one dry.Oh, do fuck off, you grey-bearded sot. Where would you get a magic spell to bind th e bitches passion?Them, said Kent, pointing rudely at the hags.Us, said the hags in chorus.Oh, said I, letting the flood wash over me. Of course.Rosemary stepped forward and held forth three shriveled grey orbs, distributively about the size of a mans eye. I did not take them, fearing they might be something as disgusting as they appeared to be desiccated elf scrotums or some such.Puff balls, from a fungus that grows deep in the wood, said Rosemary. In lovers breath these spores releaseAn enchanting charm you shall unleash beloved which can be never brokenFor him whose name next is spoken. So, to recap, alone and without rhyme?Squeeze one of these bulbs under your ladys nose, then say your name and she will find your charms irresistible and become overwhelmed with desire for you, explained Sage.Redundant then, actually? said I with a grin.The hags laughed themselves into a wheeze-around, then Rosemary dropped the pulling balls into a small silk pouch and handed it to me.Theres the matter of payment, said she, as I reached for the purse.Im a poor fool, said I. All we have mingled with us is my scepter and a well-used shoulder of pork. I suppose I could wait while each of you takes Kent for a roll in the hay, if that will do.You will not said Kent.The hag held up a hand. A price to be named later, said she. Whenever we ask.Fine, then, said I, snatching the purse away from her. excommunicate it, she said.I swear, said I.In blood.But As quick as a cat she scratched the back of my hand with her ragged talon. Ouch Blood welled in the crease.Let it drip in the cauldron and swear, said the crone.I did as I was told. Since Im here, is there any chance I could get a monkey?No, said Sage.No, said Parsely.No, said Rosemary. Were all out of monkeys, but well put a glamour on your mate so his disguise isnt so bloody pathetic.Go to it, then, said I. We must be off. manage IIHow sharper than a serpents tooth it is to have a thankless child. King Lear, Act I, Scene 4