The Fox and the Fool

By Lauren K Nixon

A refreshing new novella from from Lauren K. Nixon, The Fox and the Fool celebrates love and friendship from the very edge of things.
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Sometimes in Illyria you find yourself in need of a friend, particularly among fools.
​A gentle, strange romance between two people who spend their lives on the edge of things, set after the events of Twelfth Night.
Things have settled quite amicably since the marriages of the two great houses of the town. But now there's a new fool on the scene - and we are all fools in love.
"The Fox and the Fool is a delightfully romantic tale that sweeps you up in an instant and doesn’t let you down until you’ve savoured every last drop. Perfect for fans of Shakespeare, it will also appeal to anyone looking for an enchanting, uplifting read about love and life." - Jessica Grace Coleman
"A light-hearted tale of fun, mischief and music - a story about the importance of friendship and brave vulnerability, all wrapped up in the setting of a Shakespearean town." - Clare Keogh

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Mysterium
• Release date: Sep 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370856831

Lauren K Nixon

An ex-archaeologist enjoying life in the slow-lane, Lauren K. Nixon is an indie author fascinated by everyday magic.She is the author of numerous short stories and the Chambers Magic series. She also curates the fabulous Short Story Superstars, a vibrant community of writers, whose anthology is now available!Having studied Archaeological Sciences at Bradford University - a truly global subject - Lauren went on to discover that what everyone always told her about there being no jobs in archaeology was quite true. Happily, there are many things to keep her occupied, and when she's not writing she can be found gardening, singing, reading, playing the fool and playing board games.

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Contents

Dedication

For those who love to play the fool.

May we be many, and the malcontents few.

#

Copyright © 2017 Lauren K. Nixon

All rights reserved.

Published by The Mysterium, Shipley, Yorkshire, UK.

OTHER TITLES

From The Mysterium:

Echoes of the Light

The House of Vines (Coming Soon)

With The Superstars:

Title Not Included

Some Assembly Required

Sometimes you meet someone,

And it’s so clear that the two of you,

On some level, belong together. As lovers,

Or as friends, or as family, or as something

Entirely different. You just work, whether

You understand one another, or you’re

In love, or you’re partners in crime. You

Meet these people throughout your life,

Out of nowhere, under the strangest

Circumstances, and they help

You feel alive.

- Unknown

Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun, it shines everywhere.

(TN. 3.1.27)

The morning sun rose full and fresh, raising the damp dew off the ground and into the air to greet it. The basin town below, huddled cosy on the coast, glimmered in the early morning light like a bright jewel, hard by the sea.

The town was already astir: doors opening, fishermen calling to one another on the docks. ‘Twas a pretty little burgh, grown up on wealth got from the sea and traded with the land. The houses shone pink and yellow, clustered about the harbour and following the river a little way upstream. Orchards ran down to it on one side, before the land gave way to clifftop meadows, thick with the flowers of spring. Beyond the orchards, skirting the further edge of the town, men were tending their animals and boys were chasing birds from off the young crops. The women, too, were already hard about their employment, shaking bedlinen out of casements and brushing their front steps. The early morning scent of baking was already beginning to fill the air, drifting up the beaten track to the top of the hill where the scents woke a morning hunger in a weary traveller.

She sloughed off the last of the aches she had got by sleeping 'neath the shrubs that lined the road from the villa where she had last plied her trade, adjusted the strap of her harp upon her shoulder, kicked the dust from off her boots and started down towards Illyria, the blossoms of the morning still caught in her sun-blanched hair.

‘Twas good to be alive.

She was soon 'mongst the hustle and bustle of the market square, springing lightly between the burghers and stallholders, looking with careful eye o'er the houses ranged on either side. She had heard tell of licenses to be had in Illyria, if a fool could come by them, and she had had her fill of sleeping rough. The last winter had been particularly hard.

Ho, good woman! Hold!

She turned, the bells affixed to her clothing jingling as she span, to find herself hailed by a young man, only a few years behind herself in age. He was dressed in lordly finery – a page for a man o' court, perhaps.

Good morrow, sir, she answered, her pack hanging lightly by her side.

Though it was well hidden, she felt her poniard resting comfortingly 'gainst her side. She had been a roving minstrel for a long time, which, for a maid, could be a tricksy thing. This squire, however, didn't seem to pose a threat; his face was open and honest, with the barest fluff of manhood stuck to his cheek like down. She thought him passing comely in his youth.

Art thou dressed for jesting, madam? He looked her over, clearly puzzled at her attire.

Aye sir, for that is my calling. She patted the instrument on her back, her bells chiming.

His eyes followed the movement, curious. 'Tis unusual to find a woman as a fool... He hesitated, lines of worry crossing his gentle face. Pardon, madam, if 'tis not thy title – I would not corrupt thy name with slander if 'tis not so.

No, good friend, a fool am I – for all God's creatures are, in the end. ‘Twas he who gifted me my talents, and the freedom to use them.

She smiled, to show him she took no offence, and he came closer.

Why come you to Illyria, good maid – pardon! He grinned shyly, catching his words. Good fool?

I seek license, she told him. I have been too long a-roving and would no longer play beggar with my voice. I have heard these streets might hold a place for me. Are there others of my colours amongst the throng?

Aye lady, we have our small share of fools and minstrels, he told her. Some licensed, most without.

She nodded, a little disappointed. Competition was never particularly welcome, when each fool could bring their own flavour to a court.

I would not cast another out their place – 'tis hungry enough work without rivalry, she remarked, thoughtfully. You have been kind to me already, sir. Would you help me further and direct my feet toward a house whose lord or lady might have need of me?

The young bearded creature laughed.

Madam, I will help you to't. My own lord, the Duke, and his new wed Duchess might hear you, he declared. There is another licensed fool who sometimes plays for them, but he ought be more oft at his own lord and lady's house, the rogue.

She laughed, too. Ah, we are all rogues, sir, make no distinction there.

By my troth, pretty sweeting, I'll ne'er believe a maid can be a rogue.

Well, believe it sir, for I am living proof!

She span, executing a pretty bow before him in a whirl of her bright costume.

Mind where you go, Sirrah!

At this dour and sharp proclamation, she looked up, standing back to allow this new apparition to pass. He walked imperiously between herself and her new friend, ‘ttired all in black and grand pomposity. His eyes snapped back to her face as he passed and he halted, apparently astonished at her garb.

Madam? he asked, scandalised, and she steeled herself to meet what offered to be a passing unpleasantness. ‘Tis improper to disport thyself thus, in the garb and manner of a dull fool.

I assure you sir, no dull fool I, She made her obeisance again, this time more in the manner of a woman. I am as you see me, sir – a woman and a fool.

Women are never fools, though they may be their mothers, said the young gentleman, who had closed to her side with a smile. But often great wits.

Fie, thou art neither! the man declared, glaring down at her along his nose. Get thee into thy maiden weeds lest thou be called harlot and driven hence from this town!

He turned and stalked away, his proper shoes clicking on the cobbles.

Such clipped beard and proper dress, I should take him for a clerk or a wise man, she remarked, when he was safely out of earshot. If he had not ope'd his mouth to dispel such idiocy.

There goes Malvolio, steward to the Lady Olivia and her husband, Sebastian. He never did leave his chambers but to see something to take offence at, said the lordling, making her chuckle. He has, of late, had his nose put royally out of joint by some of his lady's household, and has been naught but bitter since. Not that he was much in the way of merriness before.

Why then, begone sad, sour steward, she murmured, casting him off as she might a cobweb. I hope I do not cross your path again.

Sad sure, lady, Illyria is a small town, and I doubt but you'll see him anon. But come, we'll have no more of him today. Come in and meet my lord, and charm him with thy roguish tongue.

I follow, good friend, she said, bowing again. God has helped my feet to find you, and I'll not forsake him now. What do they call you?

Why, Valentine, madam, he grinned, copying her deep, flamboyant bow with significantly less grace. And your name, gentle fool?

My sweet Valentine, I answer to Iris, she told him, drawing herself up and raising the great, multi-coloured sleeves she had sewn herself in the dark hours after her father's death, many years before. The princess of rainbows.

I am for all waters.

(TN. 4.2.45)

She is in earnest then, this strange creature? the Duke asked, addressing Valentine, but looking her up and down. A most feminine fool. One would think her more of the realm of spirits than that of woman's estate. Still, ‘tis not strange in this house for one sort to dress as another.

I am in earnest, my Duke. She bowed again with a flourish. Though I do not take thy meaning.

Hast thou not heard of my bride? he asked, barking a laugh. I had thought her famous by now.

Iris watched his face carefully. This one, too, seemed honest and friendly, though possessed of that lordly poise that came from inherited title and wealth. For all that,