Page 131

He found he did not trust himself to speak for the moment, and wordlessly, he handed her the flyer. Fen’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh no!” she uttered faintly and turned quite pale. His eyes narrowed as he watched an expression of horrified guilt flit over her face. “Has he – is it…?” she caught her breath. “Is it being performed now?”

He nodded. “Oh yes, Fenella. It is being performed as we speak, in the market place below. Probably several performances a day.”

Her hand shot out to grip the mantel and he noticed her knuckles turn quite white. “How did you find out?” she asked faintly.

He paused, tasting the bitter taste of betrayal in his mouth. “It seems several of our acquaintance have already seen it,” he said stonily, and had to look away from her face. “Do I take it that you were fully aware of the turn the story has taken?”

“You mean that Mr Entner dropped the allegorical donkey?” asked Fen in a strained voice. She nodded unhappily.

“I suppose,” said Oswald in a detached tone, that didn’t quite hide his anger. “That it didn’t occur to you that I would want to be informed that your friend, the playwright had decided to cash in on the notoriety of your reputation?” he asked coldly.

Fen flinched at the idea that she had a reputation. “I – he…” she trailed off miserably. She made a visible effort to pull herself together. “I did fear that you would not be pleased,” she said stiltedly. “But I find it hard to gauge things at court. I did not know if I was over-reacting.”

He tipped his head to one side. “Over-reacting?” he repeated quietly. “By completely ignoring its production? And allowing your husband to become a figure of ridicule and scorn among his peers?”

Fen’s cheeks flushed with color, at the edge to his words. “I thought no-one would attend it,” she admitted wretchedly, and hung her head. “I hoped it would sink without a trace.”

“Did you?” Oswald’s lips twisted, but it was more of a grimace, than a smile. “Well, it was a vain hope, Fenella. As I understand these things, more and more courtiers will be slipping away daily to watch the debacle and throw their pennies Mr Entner’s way. They will then spend their evenings whispering about it behind our backs.”

“No,” Fen whispered, the blood draining from her face.

“Before we know it, no doubt it will have reached the ear of the King. After that, Mr Entner can drag his show around the shires. Perhaps it will reach all your friends in Sitchmarsh before the spring?”

Fen looked sick to her stomach, but he couldn’t find it in him to take pity on her. “But perhaps you enjoy being at the center of so much sordid rumor?” he speculated. “I must admit, for my part I dislike being a vulgar display, but each to their own.”

Fen’s gaze was so wounded, he abruptly changed his tack. “Let us look on the bright side,” he said bitterly. “Mr Entner’s fifteen children will be fed.” He realized how demoralized she must feel when she did not correct him as to the correct number of the playwright’s offspring. He knew she would know it.

“What can we do?” she uttered miserably.

“Do?” repeated Oswald. “I’m afraid there is only one course of action open to us, under such circumstances.”

Fen looked up anxiously. “N-not gaol!” she stammered. “He has a family to support!”

Oswald gave a bitter laugh. “Gaol?” he repeated. “Good gods, no. That really would confirm me in the role of cold-hearted villain. No, there can be no question of repercussions for the enterprising Mr Entner,” he said wearily. Suddenly he felt tired of the whole thing. Heart-sick of it.

“What then?”

“Why, what else? We must send word to the marketplace and invite Mr Entner to bring his players up to the castle to perform for us all in the Great Hall. Before a royal audience, no less.” His words were cold, devoid of emotion. As though oddly detached from the situation, he watched Fen stiffen.

Her jaw dropped. “Invite them to the castle?” she faltered, incredulously. “Invite the King to see it?”

“All of our acquaintance at large,” agreed Oswald. “We will fill the Great Hall. We must attend and smile and applaud throughout, as if we are excessively diverted by such a work of fiction.”

“B-But that will be seen as an endorsement! Wouldn’t it?”

“I repeat, we must seem excessively diverted by this work of fiction,” he said forcefully.

Fen gazed at him. “I don’t know if I can do that,” she admitted.

“You can, and you will,” he told her grimly. “You will invite Mason and Linnet and yes, even Roland and his friends, and we will attend en masse.” Fen made an involuntary noise of dissent, but he ignored it. “And you will wear your brightest jewels, and your widest smile and we will let everyone see that you are nothing like the ridiculous character from this melodrama.”

Fen swallowed. “What if Mr Entner refuses to bring it to the palace?” she asked in a small voice.

He gave her a withering look. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.” Her face crumpled and he had to look away. “I will send word to the marketplace inviting their company tomorrow night for our entertainment. You will employ your time this evening and tomorrow writing invitations to watch your play. The first you will send to the King and Queen.”

Her head came up at this. “My play?” she repeated blankly.

“Your name endorses it,” he said in a clipped voice.