Were I otherwise, I would perhaps have fed the shadows of my soul with my fists, bringing misery to others through such pain as I might have inflicted through pugilistic pursuits. However, my active mind speaks to me of the futility of violence, of how it begets only further violence. Or at least this is the lie I have told myself. That I be of short stature and little muscled also undoubtedly influences my thinking, that and the memories of the beatings I received from my peers in younger years for no other reason than I were different. So instead, I honed my wit and taught myself to wield it as a far greater weapon in my cause. Such wounds to the mind and spirit, I have discovered, inflict a deeper and more enduring pain, and bring a greater easement to the burden I bear.

And so I grew and earned for myself the reputation of trickster. I was indiscriminate in the choice of my victims, bringing both laughter and shame to all but myself, and in this I further earned myself naught but enemies. As I grew beyond childhood, I discovered that those that might have helped me find a profession, guarded their grudges and turned me away when time came for me to seek gainful employ. It did little to deter me from my mischief, but rather did it encourage me to aspire to greater heights, and in this I fared poorly for soon enough I found myself begging stale crusts simply to keep from starving.

Clever is not wise however, and in my cleverness, I bruised the pride of many a worthy individual. I found ways and means of turning the misfortunes of those about me into the fuel for my japes and trickery. My humour was of a vicious sort, but so was that of my audience, which worked all the more to my benefit. One after another, I turned my sights upon each member of the king’s court and fired the barbed arrows of my wit into them. To be sure, I took pains to seek them out after having ridiculed them in the presence of their peers, begging their forgiveness and entreating that they should see there would be no laughter if I chose no victim. There were times I went too far, and with such folk I left them to their wounded egos and essayed not to bring them more misery, at least until their ruffled feathers had smoothed. It must be said that among such were those who chose to nurse their displeasure, who on occasion sought to be revenged. These I took the greatest delight in hounding remorselessly until they surrendered or, in some few cases, chose to abandon the court. Of these latter few, I find certain justification in the sure knowledge that none were missed. To my mind all were victims in potentia and none more so than my patrons, the king and queen, though I knew beyond doubt that, should I seek to turn on them it would have to be with no ordinary foolery.

It was not until my fifth year in service to the king and queen that I stumbled upon the means to do just that.

Within the walls of the castle dwelt an elderly soul, as grey of character as he was of countenance. Ne’er once did I remark his presence within the court of the king, though often enough I would chance upon him making his way about the castle’s labyrinthine corridors. In each case he would have upon his person some flask or vial of liquid, the nature of which varied widely — some dark and thick as tar, others brightly coloured and vaporous. I took to following him and often enough discovered him keeping clandestine assignations with all manner of folk. Be they of noble or humble birth, he would speak to them the same. Though I rarely drew near enough to hear his words, they ever seemed to be in manner of instruction and accompanied with the passing across of whatever glassware he bore.

It seemed I had stumbled upon the king’s apothecary, and here was a source of great delight, for who has greatest need of a quiet tryst with a master of potions but one who seeks to allay some circumstance of embarrassment? Here was a fellow whose friendship it seemed full worth the effort to cultivate, and so I did. I asked about and discovered the whereabouts of his apartments, then set to encountering him nearby as if by chance, eventually inveigling myself into his good graces.

Good man that he was, his lips remained tight sealed upon the secrets of those for whom he prepared his medicines. Not once did I trick him into revealing a confidence, though in truth he seemed contented enough to speak of his trade and, once satisfied there existed no source of humiliation behind his words, he would often explain the nature of his work. It was thus I discovered the essence of the sparkling, golden potions he prepared and delivered on the first day of each month to King and Queen Laramy, and within his words did I catch sight of the first glimmerings of a plan that might lead to the greatest jest of my career.

This he told me: That the potions were of a rare magic indeed. Within them resided the capacity to renew and maintain a fairness of countenance upon whomsoever drank them. Until that moment I had never once paused to wonder that the royal couple might be possessed of common mien, though in that same moment it proved a wonder that I had never taken pause to so consider, for who among the kings and queens of Fareway has ever proven not to be fair of face?

In my first thought, I considered replacing the potions with some common cordial of similar aspect that the genuine face of our monarchy might be revealed, but then the potioneer continued to speak on his craft and what he then told me showed me the way to a far better joke.

I would ne’er have considered it, but though in appearance there existed nothing to remark between the two potions, still within their ingredients there lay a great difference. That which brought delicacy and beauty to the queen’s appearance was in certain crucial manner different from that which enhanced the rugged handsome lines of the king, and thus it seemed to me the greatest of japes for each to experience the benefits afforded the other, if only for one month.

I took it upon me to respond and rushed into the royal bedchamber where I found a fair little thing, very much in appearance like the queen, though so enveloped in an overly sized nightshirt and dressing gown that she seemed but a child. In the bed beyond sat the very semblance of the king, near naked amidst the tattered remains of a silken nightgown. To one side my newest friend cowered in abject misery, averting his eyes as though it were shameful to look upon a man’s bare breast.

In truth it were the bare breast of our queen, but so far transformed there remained little to bring shame upon any who saw it. I feigned ignorance and addressed my king as though he were my queen, asking what had caused her to so cry out, for the voice could have originated from no other throat.

“Go to the door,” he, or perhaps rather she, told me, “and bar any other from entering.”

I did as I was bid, closing the door and turning the great key in the lock. Not a moment too soon, for there next came a great pounding upon the oak and a demand from the other side for it to be opened. It seemed I had beaten the nearest of the palace guard to the king’s side by mere seconds.

“Majesty,” said I, secretly delighting in the circumstance, “they will not be persuaded to depart unless they behold your face, and that you be properly attired.”

“I cannot be seen like this!” exclaimed the king, bearing now the full likeness of his wife.

“I most heartily agree,” said I, striding over to the wardrobe and drawing from it, after a brief search, a nightgown not unlike the one the queen’s manly form had torn asunder.

“I cannot wear that.” He sounded so much like the queen, I could scarce hide my glee.

Continuing my assumption of ignorance, I thrust it upon him. “But why not my queen? At this hour none would expect you to be full dressed. Here is a screen for modesty.” I indicated a wickerwork room divider that bore that very purpose.

The pounding continued more urgent than ever. In short order they would seek to break down the door. I watched with deep relish as the realisation washed through the king of his need to impersonate his wife. He took the gown from my hands and stepped behind the screen. I heard a whimper, possessing in equal parts shock and relief, and moments later my king emerged from his seclusion looking every part the queen. I had availed myself in the short span to snatch up the queens dressing gown, which my king now took from me and draped over his delicate shoulders.

“Stand back,” his womanly voice called through the door, and the pounding stopped. He unlocked the door and looked out upon the guard.

“We heard a cry, your majesty, is all well?”

“Forgive me,” The king’s smile held all the radiance of his wife’s. “As you see, the jester saw fit to call on us this morning. He brought with him a joke that quite alarmed me for a moment. As I’m quite sure is apparent, that moment has passed, and all is well. You are commended for your diligence, but do not permit this incident to detain you further.”

He closed and locked the door before rounding a stern eye upon me. “Ulric,” spake he, “for more years than I care to recall, you have born us these potions of yours without error and without fail. How came they to bring about this transformation?”

“In all honesty your majesty, I know not. Not since my days as an apprentice have I failed to take due care in the preparation of a potion, and in the matter of this particular draught I have always taken the utmost of precautions. The potions were correctly mixed, for you both stand transformed, but how they should have been so misapplied, I cannot fathom. I know I labelled them myself.”

“Were ought different at the time of preparation?”

“No, your majesty, safe that this good fellow kept me company while I worked.”

“And upon completion of your work, was there so much as a moment when your back was turned to them before you marked them?”

“I do not recall, your majesty, I am sorry.”

I would have allowed myself a sigh of relief in that moment had the king’s eye not continued to bear down upon me.

“Is there a way in which this transformation may be reversed?”

“I know of none, majesty.”

The king now looked over to his — now handsome — wife. “Then we shall have to bear that which cannot be undone. We are due a rest from court life, and it should not be seen as unusual should we seek to withdraw into seclusion for a month.”

“Your majesty, forgive me, but I fear it shall need to be considerably longer,” Ulric the potioneer could scarce utter the words.

“Why so?” This time the queen spoke, but with her husband’s voice.

“When potions are misapplied, they often act in a manner beyond prediction. I know of only once before when this self-same potion has been misused, an event that occurred to the master potioneer who trained me. He told me of it as a cautionary tale, of the dangers of acting out of rage.” The king’s face was a picture of impatience. Ulric noticed and after a flustered moment, chose to expedite his tale. “In short, there was a young man who acted in a manner most ungentlemanly towards the object of my master’s affection. In response he felt the man might benefit from seeing his actions from another perspective and, having just mastered this potion, he prepared a short measure of the lady’s draught with a mind that it should last no more than a week. In actuality the fellow was caught in his new form for near three months.”

I felt my blood run chill. For the jape to run a few short weeks gave opportunity for merriment. Much longer and the joke would turn swiftly sour.

“So, what does that mean?” the queen asked the question on all our lips. “Are we to take this form for a season?”

“My Liege, I cannot say for certain, but were I to hazard a guess, it would be in expectation of longer. I cannot say for sure whether the altered affect be linked direct or in some augmented manner…”

“Let the words out, man,” the king spake with full womanly petulance.

“My expectation at this juncture would be that the potion should last a year, majesty. I will be able to conduct a test and give a truer word in perhaps a few days…”

“I suspect you may find that difficult to do chained, as you will be, in the dungeon,” spake the king, anger raising in his voice.

I swallowed. Here was my fear, that such a fellow as Ulric should suffer for no fault his own. “Majesty,” I ventured, “you speak in haste. I beg you consider your servant for all the good service he has given.”

“In this instant I can think only of this great disservice, that I should bare this shame for all of a year. Retribution is owed and if I can find it nowhere else, then I shall find it where I can. For as long as my bride and I take each others’ form, so shall the man who brought this injustice upon us suffer alongside us.”

“Then let the punishment fall to me, your majesty.” I was not one to own to my misdeeds willingly, but Ulric was a kindly fellow and had done nothing to deserve punishment. I cannot say whether it was a lapse in an old man’s memory or a generosity of spirit that had protected me thus far, but it mattered not. I could not see this gentle soul committed to a dungeon where he would most likely die within the aforementioned year. “Ulric may not recall it,” in truth I had not so much as known the man’s name until the king uttered it, so ugly was the manner in which I had used him, “but in the moment the potions were finished, I distracted him, just long enough to switch the flasks. Had I not been present, no ill would have befallen your majesties.”

The king looked at me, and in gazing up from his shorter stature there was no less iron in his glare. “Why would you do such a thing, fool?”

“I fain your majesty has answered his own question, for this was but an act of foolishness. A joke that, had it lasted but a month as intended, might have offered enough opportunities for merriment. Wit there was in its crafting, for what wonders might there lie in the visiting of a realm that exists here alongside our own? What lessons might be learned, what experiences had, not so much from encountering something unsual as from seeing the entirely ordinary from a new perspective?

“Wit there was, but not wisdom, for I had not suspected this unfortunate effect from the misuse of a potion, nor had I realised how very unwise it is to dabble in the deep and mysterious waters of magic without knowledge. Majesty, your potioneer is innocent and if you must punish someone, let it be me.”

The queen stood from her bed, tying the remains of her nightdress about her waist. It offered her some little modesty but not so much that it entirely hid evidence of the incomplete transformation. She resembled her husband in almost every way, but in one small but significant exception, she remained the queen. She crossed to her husband and bent low to whisper in his delicate ear. All the while the king’s smile grew, though his eyes lost none of their fire.

At last, he nodded. “Very well. That which has no remedy must be endured, I have said this already. We cannot leave the kingdom without its rulers for all of a year, and so we shall exchange rolls, the queen and I. If we act well and are fortunate, we may pass through the experience with none knowing the truth of the matter but the four of us in this room.” He looked around, daring any one of us to disagree.

“As my wife has informed me, I shall have need of a lady in waiting, for no high-born lady can dress herself. In this I can choose no ordinary lady of the court, for she will in all likelihood catch sight of that part of me which is unchanged. And so dear Randolph, your jest will bite you as well as it has bitten us. Ulric, you are commanded to prepare one further draft of the sort intended for the queen, and Randolph shall drink of it. Thereafter he shall take on the role of the lady…”

“Arabella,” said the queen. “She is a distant cousin of mine and not minded to travel to Fareway.”

“The Lady Arabella. Fare fool, you and I shall become fast friends this year. I shall be about the queen’s business with you ever at my side, and together we shall learn what it means to live a woman’s life. Together we shall guard one another’s secrets while the queen guides our nation.

“And so I shall have my retribution, fool. For so long as this change is forced upon us, you shall remain in chains — not of steel, but of lace. For so much as I suffer this indignity thrust upon me, so shall you. Will you accept such a punishment to see your friend spared the dungeons?”

I dared not reply, for all the while the king expounded the solution the queen had whispered in his ear, I felt an uncommon feeling take me over. The very thought of joining the king in this venture filled my veins not with blood but with ice and fire, coursing through me and bringing me to such a breathless expectation, I feared my desire would stand plain enough to read upon my face. The pause stretched out as they awaited my response until I found it within me to bow my head. Keeping my voice quiet so as to disguise the quaver I knew hid within, awaiting its moment to betray.

“As you command, your majesty,” I ventured, then looked up into my king’s eyes. From the delight I found in them I can only imagine he considered my wavering tone to be some sign of dread at the punishment he intended for me.

The potioneer took much of the day to prepare my draft, during such time as the queen schooled first me then the king in the art of dressing a woman. The king also learned, else how was I to dress? It was their delight to humiliate me by placing me in such clothes as they could find might fit my slight frame. I was in no wise so small as the queen, but there dwelt within her closet such garments as might be adjusted to fit me. And so, whilst as fully a man as I have ever been, I was tied and laced into such clothing as the queen could find to make do.

I remained silent throughout, submitting to the humiliation they saw fit to mete upon me, and embracing within myself such a new sensation as I had never experienced. When at last the potion master returned with my draft, I took it to my lips and drank it down as though I had drunk nothing in some days.

The change was immediate. I felt myself shrink into my clothes, felt their fit settle about me. Perhaps the corset might have been a little tighter, but I was not so foolhardy as to suggest such a thing. I felt breasts of my own expanding to fill the empty cups within my undergarments. I felt my skin become soft and smooth and sensitised to the delicate fabrics now encasing me. I felt hair cascade with a suddenness down my back, and my face changed. I ran to the mirror, gathering my skirts about me and fair flouncing across the room. I felt my breath stolen from me as I marvelled at the beauty of the face looking back from the glass. It was in no wise the face I had born through life and yet there were hid within it some elements of the child I had once been.

That evening the king and I accompanied the queen to the throne room. I warrant we were each as nervous as the other in fear that we might be found out, though in truth no finer disguises were to be had, our secrets well hid — the king’s and mine beneath layers of skirts and petticoats while the queen had added such padding to her trews as might disguise what she lacked. Our sequestering had led to the day’s court being cancelled, and so it was that only the most urgent matters of state were brought to the fore. I placed a hand on my king’s bare shoulder when I sensed indignation rising in him that the questions should be addressed to his wife and not him, but she responded much as he would have, and so business passed to pleasure with little to note but that the court jester was absent. The queen made some excuse that I had been called away due to some urgent matter in my family. The murmurs of disappointment heartened me for a moment, but then the king rose and presented the Lady Arabella to the court.

Had I earlier felt fear that I should be discovered, ‘twas naught in comparison to the terror that coursed through me at the sight of so many hungry eyes drinking me in.

For all the privations pressed upon me by my new status, I found I was well matched to the life of a woman. I woke each morning with a fresh anticipation of the pleasures to come, and in this I found my king very much of a different mind.

“This is foolishness,” said he on our first day as I dressed him — and on many other days through the year, for he returned often to the topic. “Why are women’s clothes so designed that they need to be assisted into them?”

“I find a few reasons occurring to me, your majesty.” My reply came easily for I had already considered this matter. “In part I am sure it is for the appearance. In lower born women, clothes are made otherwise so that they may be donned without aid, and so it says to all that if you wear a dress that requires a maid to tie it closed that you are a person of means. It also places the ties and buttons beyond sight so the lines of the dress may not be spoiled by the fastenings that close it. There may also be some thought that, once dressed, a woman should not be tempted to loosen her attire, since the means to do so remain beyond her reach, and so once again her appearance endures at its best.

“As I am given to understand matters, women are less drawn to independence than men, especially among themselves, and so find pleasure in moments such as this when they are able to help one another, rather than frustration at having helplessness imposed up on them.”

“How is it you know such things?”

“A fool needs to be versed in all manner of understanding, your majesty, for the art or foolery lies often in taking unexpected paths, and for this breadth of knowledge is often of greater importance than depth, and so I take all opportunities to learn that present themselves.”

In those first days he would lace me as tight into my corset as he could manage with a mind that I should suffer the more, but our transformations were of a physical manner and he possessed no more strength than his form suggested. For that I am truly grateful, else I may have often fainted for lack of breath. The clothes were confining enough without effort to augment the suffering and he would complain through each day of his own discomforts. For my part, I found more pleasure than pain in my garb. I was ever delighted with my appearance once dressed and could do naught to keep the smile from my face, something which added further to the radiant beauty that had been gifted me and so gave me cause to smile all the more. For all their constriction, I was much taken by the delicacy of the material and the manner in which it caressed my soft and hairless skin as I moved, but most of all was I taken by the beauty they freely lent to any who wore them. Until the moment of my transformation I had never been much of a peacock and in all truth may have directed my sharpest barbs at such men as chose to preen overly much before the mirror but bearing the form of a woman I found a desire swelling within me to show myself off to best advantage. By contrast, the king would have displayed himself in a sack had I left him to his intent.

And beautiful as I was, I inevitably attracted the attention of a great host of men. The king was aghast that I should encourage this, and I find I am scarce able to explain my reasoning in the matter. Though I have known both men and women whose heart’s have drawn them to others of their sex, I have never experienced such desires myself. It shames me to confess that there was a time I’d have my fun with those caught in such pederastic and sapphic passions, but only until I became aware of the magnitude of misery caused by my jibes. Within myself I have never felt a like desire, but it seemed that my bearing the form of a woman awoke the essence of a woman within me and I found myself responding to the advances of men who, had they showed me similar attention in my usual form, would ordinarily have repulsed me.

Both king and queen were quite alarmed by my actions, for should just one of us be found out then the secret would be uncovered for all. I argued that it would seem more unusual for me to shy from all attention and, in the end, I agreed to let it be shared about that Arabella’s protective mother had only permitted her to come to the castle after she had made an unbreakable vow not to allow any man into her bed who was not her husband first. This lost me the attention of a great many, among them those I found most exciting, but there remained enough suitors who proved to be both kind and considerate and I found their attentions melting my insides with a delicious sensation that was altogether new to my experience.

Though we were spared such unpleasantness as monthly courses, the king and I still learned a great deal of what it meant to live as a woman, both the good and the bad. The king, caught up in his impatience to return to his natural form, focused on the bad while I, usually the more cynical of the two of us, found myself embracing the good in it and, for the first time in all my life, I found peace.

Then came the day the king had awaited a full twelve month and more. He awoke to find himself once more restored to himself and his good wife the same. When I came to their chambers, I found them both ready dressed. They had on occasions done this for one another, having found in it a means by which they could more deeply share their affection and so I thought little enough of it. The queen called for a full day’s court, and I thought little enough of that for there had lately been much to discuss. As was habitual, I attended with my king — or so I thought.

The last of the day’s business had reached its conclusion and all were anticipating a move toward revelry and feasting when of a sudden I felt a change within me. My corset tightened and I staggered as I fought for breath.

The king turned to me, and truly it was the king, his face bearing upon it a grin of no small malice. “Ah, Randolph,” said he in a strong voice, “I had wondered when you would return.”

All eyes turned to me, and my discomfort grew from merely physical to encompass my heart and mind also as all the court recognised who stood before them, now bearing Lady Arabella’s garb, and set about laughing. Not all though, and my eye was drawn to those gentle men who had treated me so well for so long and with such patience. I saw pain in their eyes where before I had seen little other than love, and I felt the sourness of the king’s prank played against me curdle within my constricted innards.

“But why are you so dressed?” Continue the king, still in high voice. “Is this the current style of your home now? It will not do for my court. Now go fetch your motley for we have been starved of your wit to entertain us.”

Given leave, I ran from his presence. Left alone, as I would have chosen to remain, I might never have divested myself of my clothing, but the queen was less cruel than her husband. She called for one of the lady’s of the court — formerly her lady in waiting and someone with whom I had formed a firm friendship — and bade her pursue me to my chambers. She knocked lightly at my door and asked quietly to be admitted. Strange irony that this should all start with the pretence of a gentle knock and end with a knock of such gentleness that I might pretend not to hear it. I had no desire to respond, for who, having been so shamed, would care to be seen? My ribs were at war with my corsetry though and seemed on the verge of defeat. I unlocked my door and admitted the young woman.

Without asking she set about easing my clothing. “That was cruelly done,” she said as she worked.

“No more cruelly than I have done to others,” I admitted, fighting the tears welling up behind my eyes. For all of a year I had thought nothing of allowing them their release when they came upon me and here I was, a few scant minutes returned to manhood — for all that my garb denied that — and I felt need to dam up my feelings.

“It is you I accuse,” she continued, and I heard the steely disapproval in her voice. Her nimble fingers had unbuttoned the dress which fell now about my ankles. She moved swiftly to the laces binding me in whalebone and linen and fought to loosen overly tightened knots. “I do not know by what means you affected your disguise, but I took you for a natural woman all this time. Does it please you that your actions make such a fool of me?” The knot gave and she set about easing the laces down the full length of the garment. I let out an involuntary gasp of relief at the sudden release. “And what of those young fellows you have been leading on? How do you think they feel in this moment? Or perhaps you do not think at all.”

I turned to her, my wit deserting me and leaving me without retort.

“Are you well enough served, Lord Fool?” Her words dripped with the rage I saw simmering beneath the calm of her expression. “Will you be able to divest yourself of what remains of your disguise? For I confess I have little desire to aid you further!”

I bowed my head, shame bearing down upon the already intolerable weight of misery brought by my transformation. I wanted her to understand I had intended no ill, but it was plain enough this was not the time. “You have already been kinder to me than I deserve…”

“For the kindness, thank your queen. I do as I am bid, though in this moment I am minded to do otherwise.”

“Then I have no further need of you.” I waited for her to leave then set about divesting myself of the Lady Arabella’s paraphernalia, folding it across such furniture I possessed. With motley retrieved from my wardrobe I donned clothes I had not so much as touched in over a year and all over again the weight of my misery doubled. I had no concept of where I might find cheer enough to bring merriment to the halls of my king.

I cannot say how long I sat, my head buried in my hands. It seemed for a while that I would drown in the blackness welling up within me, but I endured until it began to ebb, and from the depths so revealed I discovered the beginnings of an idea. No great idea, I’ll own, but one that might bring me some respite and, should I be so fortunate, perhaps redeem me in the eyes of those I had grown to care about.

I made my way to the laundry, for I had spoken truth to the king when I had told him that it is the business of a fool to know something of all business. There I found a group of seamstresses, many of whom I had spoken with as Arabella. I surmised the news of my return had reached them for they eyed me warily.

“Ladies,” I announced to them ignoring their mutterings, “I have need of your assistance in fulfilling my duty to the king. Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me what end is given to such garments as become too threadbare to be of use to their owners? I speak above all of such dresses as might be worn by elderly spinsters of the court.”

“Er…” One among them adopted the roll of spokeswoman. “It do depend sir,” she said. “Many a dress be not so worn as it would shame a woman of lesser status. Those we share among ourselves or pass on to our friends. Others still be too far gone and these is cut up to recover what material might be used for patching or the making of children’s clothing and that which still remains after be torn up for rags.”

“Ah,” said I. “It is the former of these that interests me. Garments that be just beyond the limit of respectable for a lady of the court but still wearable. In preference they would be of a size to fit myself and styled to the whim of an elderly lady, perhaps in her middle years or above. I would pay you good coin were you to have such — it is not my intent to take from you that which be rightfully yours. Also, if you have a mind to help in the matter, I should like to purchase a wig, again in an elderly lady’s coiffure and should it have seen better days this would also serve me well. If you should have means to lay it all before me within the next half hour, then I should feel obliged to pay twice.”

There is naught like the clink of silver to inspire the lower born to action. It took less than a quarter of the hour for them to have found all I had asked and some that I had not. Within the bundle of clothing presented to me there were such undergarments as an elderly spinster might wear, shoes and stockings also, all in a size close enough to fit my small frame. I happily paid over twice the value and hinted at more to be spent if they might help me to expand my wardrobe further. I then asked them to assist me in dressing. With the foundational garments, I could manage well enough and once modestly covered, there were those among them who shared my own pleasure in the invention of a new character.

Once dressed with the wig atop my head I felt something of the weight released from my shoulders. If I could not play the beautiful woman the potion had transformed me into, then at least I might play a woman and she might bring some ribald humour to the court and so find a place there.

“You should be made up sir,” the spokeswoman who had identified herself as Mollie said to me. “I have a little if you’ll allow it.”

“Not so much that it should mask who I truly am,” I said, “and badly applied as though done with a shaking hand and myopic eyes.”

“I know just what you mean,” she said with a smile and set about furthering my transformation.

The result was perfection, though perfection in a manner so grotesque as to cause many among them to recoil.

“My thanks to you Mollie,” I held the pitch of my voice high and allowed it to crack somewhat. “The Lady Rubella is indebted to you and your friends. Now if only I might find a stick to aid me in bearing these old bones about the castle.”

One of the younger girls placed a stick in my hand, as gnarled and twisted a thing as my new persona. I offered her a smile that was more grimace, already embracing the personality of my new self as she unfolded within me. I turned toward the king’s court and made off with a better turn of speed than may have been seemly for a lady of my position, leaving as many faces smiling at my departure as had frowned upon my arrival.

“Where is he?” I called out in my cracked voice as I entered the great hall. My abrupt arrival occurred in the middle of a display of acrobatics and near upset the pyramid they were in the midst of constructing. “Oh, did I interrupt something?” The bored expressions suggested nothing much. The bane of all acts of physical prowess, that it becomes difficult to find new material. In the end, no matter how astounding the feat, it is rendered banal by its similarity to all others that have gone before. In my profession there is always new material to be found should you be sufficiently diligent, just as there are always old favourites should the new material not be well received. “Well, carry on. Don’t mind me.” I turned away, ignoring their anger and called out again, “Where is he?”

I found and took hold of the arm of one of my erstwhile suitors, a young fellow named Jason whose features held more beauty than any man had a right to, and examined him from uncomfortably close. “No, not you,” I announced to anyone who’d listen — which meant everyone by now. “Not scrawny enough, though should you be free later, I do have a bed needs warming.” I wiggled my eyebrows in a grossly suggestive manner and turned swiftly away, ignoring both his recoil of horror and the laughter around me. I have observed in my short life that, while naught heals a broken heart but time, the symptoms of such an injury may be alleviated by the administration of a shock, be it good or bad. And where shocks are concerned, bad is always simplest.

The acrobats had all returned to the ground and joined those present in staring at me, however, their expressions did not retain anything of the good humour that was building about me. “Where…” I paused, glowering at them. “I thought I told you to carry on,” I said petulantly then turned from them and released so noisy a fart as I could find within. This met with a renewed laughter from the room. As I have said, there are always the old favourites and I have long since trained my body to act upon demand.

My eyes were drawn to the queen’s lady in waiting, now once more restored to her place following Arabella’s abrupt departure. I crossed to her as the laughter subsided, making much of climbing the dais upon which rested the thrones. I took her by the shoulders and drew her to me till our noses all but touched, though I well-marked the warning in her eyes. “No, not you either,” I complained querulously. “You could be no fool though you tried. Besides what reason could he possibly have for wearing a dress.” I released her and turning, bellowed above the renewed laughter, “Randolph where are you?”

“Madam,” shouted the king as he controlled his own mirth. “Could it be you seek my fool?”

“Of course not!” I shouted back. “It is my fool I seek. Why, how many fools do you keep about this place? Only a fool would willingly retain more than one, unless that is what you mean, for if you are such a fool then there would be more than one fool and that of course would make you such a fool.”

“What makes him your fool?” the king managed to ask past more choking laughter.

“Why, he is my nephew obviously. Do you not mark the resemblance?” With this I turned from him, lifted my skirts and released another resounding fart in his direction. Then looking coquettishly over my shoulder as yet more laughter bounded about the room I asked, “What is it leads you to believe he is your fool?”

“He has been in my employ these six years past, you old hag!”

“Well, you must not treat him well,” I responded, “for if you did he would not always be hiding from you.” I looked about the hall until I found the other young man who had shown me such generous attention as Arabella. Not so difficult a thing for he was tall, topping me by a full head and with such broad shoulders as would make any young lady swoon — even one who was neither so young nor a lady. “Randolph!” I cried, “There you are. Where have you been?” I bustled my way over to him and looked up into his face. “Have you grown a little since last I saw you?” A pause for the laughter to ease. “My, but you’ve grown so thin!” I tried squeezing a bicep and found I could not reach my hand halfway about it. “Come, give your auntie a kiss.” I puckered my lips, closed my eyes and reached for him as laughter swelled about us. Here was a risk, but even should he strike me, it would be well deserved on my part.

He surprised me though and took me in his own arms, planting a kiss of such ardent passion upon me that upon being released I staggered from him and near sank to the ground as my legs lost all their strength. Fortunately, the wave of laughter that filled the hall lasted a good long while, permitting me to regain my composure.

“Why, Randolph,” said I, breathless and disarrayed, “I had no idea you harboured such passion.” I patted my dishevelled wig and simpered for a moment, then taking my gnarled stick I poked him hard in the stomach, though not so hard. It is not wise to poke a bear, no matter how gentle his nature. “But what manner of behaviour is that? Is that any way to kiss your aunt?”

“Madam, you are mistaken,” the king called to me. “This is not Randolph. I sent him to his rooms not long ago, perhaps you might seek him there.”

It was a dismissal of sorts, but a dismissal none the less. “Very well,” said I huffily. “Far be it for folk to say that I should remain where I am not welcomed.” I turned to the hulking man beside me, took his arm and tugged at it ineffectually. “Perhaps you would show me the way?” I leaned hard giving the appearance of trying to shift him. He caught my intent and stood resolute.

“I fear I shall have need of Caleb here, my lady. There are servants about the castle to guide you, and perhaps when you find your nephew, you will tell him his king still awaits his return.”

I gave up my ineffectual struggle, wondering what I might have done had Caleb agreed to escort me, offered the king a low curtsy and departed the hall head held high and to resounding applause.

Returning to the laundry, I found friendly hands ready to help me out of my costume. I dressed back into my fool’s motley and removed most of the cosmetic from my face, all but for a deliberately misapplied and unsightly streak of lipstick which I now kept all the more to demonstrate my bungling efforts to deceive. I thanked Mollie and her friends profusely and asked if there might be a way of altering the dress so that I might put it on and off unassisted. I felt certain that this new character of mine would be disrupting the court often enough in the future and I would find it more useful, though less agreeable, to have means to transform myself unaided. Mollie took the dress and other clothing with a promise to see what she could do.

Back in the king’s hall, I made a performance of running from my aunt, the Lady Rubella, and hid behind the king’s throne where I let out such a long and loud release of flatulence as to renew all laughter in the room.

“Now I remark the family resemblance,” cried the king, ever ready to be a part of my jokes though rarely in a manner that added to the humour.

And so I was reinstated to my place beside the king. The short reprieve had served me well in bringing me back to some semblance of myself, and looking about the room, I caught the eyes of those I held dearest. Each offered me a nod and some semblance of a smile, even the queen’s lady in waiting graced me with a gentler expression. It was sufficient to ease my concerns.

Towards the end of the evening’s entertainment, the king called me close and whispered in my ear that I should pass by the royal bedchamber once all was done. In truth we had much to discuss, so I was not overly concerned. I awaited my dismissal and permitted myself a short respite in the gardens before keeping my royal appointment.

“We wondered if we might find you here.”

I turned to find Caleb and Jason standing before me. They had known each to be the other’s rival for Arabella’s affection and found a friendship within that competition.

“It was never my intent to hurt either of you, nor to shame you before the court. I wish there were some way I could show you that for certain.”

“We know.” This time it was Jason who spoke. In his face I saw a tenderness that felt oddly misplaced in our current context.

“And you need fear no retribution from us,” Caleb added. “We have spoken and agree between us that, whatever this was, you never misled us in our feelings for… you? Arabella? How does this work?”

“Call her by her name and not mine, for though we are one and the same, so also was I in nowise the person I am now while bearing her form. As to retribution, take it if you feel the need, for though intending no harm, I cannot deny having brought it to you both.”

“I cannot hate you,” Jason said with a soulful shake of his head. “All memories of the time I spent with Arabella are sweet, though I would ask, how came you to this?”

“For now, I do not know how much I may tell you, but if you will grant me a little patience, I will tell you all I can the moment I know what that means.”

“And what of Arabella? Will she return?”

“You ask that even knowing her true nature?”

He nodded.

“I cannot say. My heart hopes she will return, my mind fears she will not. Again, permit me but a little time and I will answer what questions I may. No more lies. I — that is to say the Arabella within me — I have great affection for you both and always hated that I should be forced into this deception.”

“And what of the Randolph in you?” Caleb’s turn.