Read Online Fool by Christopher Moore - Free Book Online Page A

into the anchoress’s chamber.
    “Come along, Pocket. It’s time for evening prayers.”
    I bowed quickly to the anchoress and hurried out the door under Mother Basil’s arm.
    As the sister closed the door, the anchoress called, “Reverend Mother, a moment, please.”
    Mother Basil’s eyes went wide and she looked as if she’d been called out by the devil. “Go on to vespers, Pocket. I’ll be along.”
    She made her way into the dead-end passageway and closed the door behind her even as the bell calling us to vespers began to toll.
    I wondered what the anchoress would discuss with Mother Basil, perhaps some conclusion she had realized during her hours of prayer, perhaps I had been found wanting and she would ask that I not be sent to her again. After just making my first friend, I was sorely afraid of losing her. While I repeated the prayers in Latin after the priest, in my heart I prayed to God to not take my anchoress away, and when mass ended, I stayed in the chapel and prayed until well after the midnight prayers.
    Mother Basil found me in the chapel.
    “There are going to be some changes, Pocket.”
    I felt my spirit drop into my shoe soles.
    “Forgive me, Reverend Mother, for I know not what I do.”
    “What are you on about, Pocket? I’m not scolding you. I’m adding duties to your devotion.”
    “Oh,” said I.
    “From now on, you are to take food and drink to the anchoress in the hour before vespers, and there in the outer chamber, shall you sit until she has eaten, but upon the bell for vespers you are to leave there, and not return until the next day. No longer than an hour shall you stay, do you understand?”
    “Yes, mum, but why only the hour?”
    “More than that and you will interfere with the anchoress’s own communion with God. Further, you are never to ask her about where she was before this, about her family, or her past in any way. If she should speak of these things you are to immediately put your fingers in your ears, and verily sing ‘la, la, la, la, I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you,’ and leave the chamber immediately.”
    “I can’t do that, mum.”
    “Why not?”
    “I can’t work the latch to the outer door with my fingers in my ears.”
    “Ah, sweet Pocket, I do so love your wit. I think you shall sleep on the stone floor this night, the rug shields you from the blessed cooling of your fevered imagination, which God finds an abomination. Yes, a light beating and the bare stone for you and your wit tonight.”
    “Yes, mum.”
    “And so, you must never speak with the anchoress about her past, and if you should, you shall be excommunicated and damned for all eternity with no hope for redemption, the light of the Lord shall never fall upon you, and you shall live in darkness and pain for ever and ever. And in addition, I shall have Sister Bambi feed you to the cat.”
    “Yes, mum,” said I. I was so thrilled I nearly peed. I would be blessed by the glory of the anchoress every single day.
    “Well that’s a scaly spot o’ snake wank,” said the anchoress.
    “No, mum, it’s a cracking big cat.”
    “Not the cat, the hour a day. Only an hour a day?”
    “Mother Basil doesn’t want me to disturb your communion with God, Madame Anchoress.” I bowed before the dark arrow loop.
    “Call me Thalia.”
    “I daren’t, mum. And neither may I ask you about your past or from whence you come. Mother Basil has forbidden it.”
    “She’s right on that, but you may call me Thalia, as we are friends.”
    “Aye, mum. Thalia.”
    “And you may tell me of your past, good Pocket. Tell me of your life.”
    “But, Dog Snogging is all I know-all I have ever known.”
    I could hear her laughing in the dark. “Then, tell me a story from your lessons, Pocket.”
    So I told the anchoress of the stoning of St. Stephen, of the persecution of St. Sebastian, and the beheading of St. Valentine, and she, in turn, told me stories of the saints I had never heard of in