The Jester

Epilogue

“GRAND-PÈRE.”

My little grandson Jack came up to me in the gardens. It was a bright late-summer morning. I had just returned from the hill with a handful of sunflowers, as I did every morning in the summer. Though climbing to the spot was a little harder for me now.

Little Jack, my daughter Sophie’s son, who was five, threw himself into my arms and almost toppled me over. He pointed to the checkerboard crest that hung above the entrance to our inn. (Of course, the inn was slightly larger than my first one. We now owned a quarter of the land that had once belonged to Baldwin. Some things do come with being married to the daughter of a king.)

“Mother told me you would tell me what our crest means. She said you were once a jester.”

“She said that?” I pretended to be surprised. “Well, if she said that, then it must be true.”

“Show me,” Jack insisted, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Show you?” I took his hand. “Then first you must hear the tale.”

I took him to the bench that overlooked the town where we had lived these forty years, near where Sophie and Phillipe were buried. Around us, the fields exploded with sunflowers galore.

I took Jack back to the time when all I had was a tiny inn. When an army marched through here, an army led by a hermit. [452] To the battles near and far, and the holiest prize in the world, which for a short while was in my hands. To the fight of men to make themselves free, forty years before.

My little blond-haired grandson listened without so much as a breath. “That was you, Grand-père? You did these things?”

“Me and Odo and Alphonse. When Uncle Odo was just a smith in town, and not our seneschal.”

“Let me see.” He screwed up an eye as if I were joking. “Show me what you learned.”

“What I learned?” I touched his tiny freckled nose. Then a thought flashed into my head. I got up off the bench and winked at him as if to say, “This is our secret. Whatever happens, don’t tell your grandmother.”

I sucked in my stomach and held my breath. I hadn’t done this in thirty years. I tucked myself into a deep crouch. I prayed to God I would not kill myself. “Watch this!”

And I sprang. Through the air into a forward flip. And in that fleeting instant, a thousand memories flashed through my mind: Sophie. Norbert. Nico and Robert. And the Turk. I sprang for all of them. One last time.

With a thump, I landed on my feet. Every bone in my body seemed to rattle. But I had nailed it! I was in one piece. Norbert would’ve been proud!

I looked at Jack. His eyes glistened bright as the summer sun. I saw my beautiful Emilie in those eyes. Then all at once he started to laugh. A true child’s laugh, like water rushing in a brook. It almost choked me as I watched him. Laughter, the most beautiful sound in all the world.

“That’s what I learned.” I tousled his long blond hair and smiled. “To make people laugh. That’s what this crest is all about. That is everything.”

I took my little grandson by the hand and led him back to the inn. Emilie, my queen, was waiting for me there. The hearth was roaring.

And I had sunflowers for her.