Bally the Fool: The Monk

Bally almost tripped over the mumbling monk. Teek had layed out on the stone hallway, his head ackwardly jammed against the wall as he muttered in his sleep. Bally let out a curse from his lips as he hopped over the recumbant penetant, catching himself expertly just as Teek snorted and coughed.

“Oh my,” he muttered as he opened his eyes. “Bally? Is that you?”

“By the bones of her children!” Bally straightened, brushing off his dusty jerkin with indignant irritation. “What are you doing down there? Where anyone could trip over you?”

“Sleeping,” Teek mumbled, rubbing his eyes with a thick hand, “Or I was. What are you doing here? No one comes to this wing of the castle anymore.”

“I was thinking,” Bally snapped. “Or I was. Good place to think, this wing. No one around, or so I thought.”

“Good place to sleep too,” Teek gave a blurry smile. “Or so I thought.”

For a moment, the fool and the monk stared at each other. Then, Bally held out his hand. “Come on, you old sot. Your jug must be empty.”

At the mention of his security, Teek reached out and jostled the thick clay jug that lay at his side. The sloshing was faint. “Aye, near enough. I suppose I could use some more, and by the look of things, you could use some at all.”

Bally sniffed as the drunken monk was hoisted up to his feet. “Aye, I’ll not argue.”

The monk and the fool resumed walking through the dark and empty hallways of the abandoned wing of the castle.

“This was once a music room, you know,” Teek said as they passed a dust-filled chamber. “The old Duchess used to play the harp for hours in there. You could hear it throughout the castle.”

“I bet is was beautiful,” Bally muttered.

“She couldn’t play worth a damn,” Teek grinned, staggering into Bally as he walked. “Cats ran and hid, and hearts skipped in sympathy with her sense of rythmn. It could give you nightmares.” He heaved a quaking sigh. “Yes, it was beautiful.”

Bally began skipping. “You know, I don’t feel like wine tonight. Tonight, I feel like dancing. Will you dance with me, oh mumbling monk?”

Teek coughed before waving his hand. “Oh, my head is spinning well enough without my body aiding it, truth.” He glanced down at his jug. “But you are right, I too seem to have lost the taste for wine this eve.”

“Tomorrow,” Bally suggested.

“Yes, certainly,” Teek promised. “Tomorrow.”

The two continued their sojourn. Periodically, Bally thought of something to say, but by the time he had taken a deep breath and turned to his companion, the sense and reason behind what he had wanted to say had fled. Several times he heard his companion give a sharp inhale, as if he too had something to say, only to clear his throat and carry on in silence.

In the distance, a faint shouting drifted through the air. Something was happening in the tiny town.

Bally heaved a sigh. “I don’t suppose you can give me a blessing, could you, brother?”

“I can say whatever you want me to say,” Teek hiccupped, wiping his mouth. “Or do you mean something else?”

“I want a blessing,” Bally continued as the sound outside grew louder. “I want something powerful at my back, to give me strength.”

“Strength? Strength? My goodness, whatever for?”

Bally kicked at a pebble that had fallen from the crumbling wall. He listened to the tik-tak as it hopped and spun down the hallway, into some shadowy corner. “I just feel like it might be helpful.”

“Strength helps nothing,” Teek sighed. “Strength gives you responsibilities, and then you must use your strength.”

“I’d rather have it and use it, than not have it and need it.”

“Oh, but do you need it?” Teek gave a small hum before continuing. “Consider the strength of a mother. She can bear the pangs of hunger, so she feeds her child before herself. Consider the strength of a soldier. He can carry the weight of a sword, so he protects his house from bandits. You see?”

“Not really.”

“If you cannot carry the load, then no one has the right to expect it of you,” Teek continued, his eyes rolling in his head. “And if you can, then you have no right not to carry it. More strength only gives you more duties. Better to stay weak and let everything sort itself out.”

“But it’s not!” Bally shouted, punching the stone wall with his hand. Pain shot up his arm and into his shoulder, a lightning bolt grounded in his skull. When the pain finally faded, he felt much better. “It’s not,” he repeated, working the ache out of his fingers. “Because what if there’s something that needs to get fixed?”

“There’s always something that needs fixing,” Teek stared at his jug, giving it a tiny shake. “Even the things that don’t need fixing could be fixed. Storms, floods, diseases, famine, tyranny, cruelty…we’d never stop working! Our whole lives would be toiling away, fighting every injustice, toiling forever to balance the scales, only to see them tip away towards the other side.”

Bally kicked another pebble. tik-tak tik tiddle-iddle tok. “Doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

“Doesn’t it?” Teek shrugged. “Well, I suppose not. All the same, if you get too strong, it’ll be your fault when things go wrong.”

“I’m not sure it works that way.”

“Of course it does. Think of the gods. Nothing’s stronger than them, and they’re responsible for everything.” He hiccupped again. “Anything goes wrong in the world, and it’s the gods’ fault.”

“I never believed in the gods.”

“Oh?” Teek scratched at his cheek. “Well, that’s alright.”

“I just never saw them anywhere,” Bally continued, hopping from foot to foot. “The Dukes and Duchesses were my lieges, and they never paid no mind to the gods either. It’s like what the Good Sage calls ‘gravity.’ You say it’s there, I say ‘whatever you say.’ So long as I never tumble on my head, I’ll call it what you like.”

“The Gods are like that.”

“Only now,” Bally cocked his head with the sad sound of tiny bells on his hat, “I wonder. Is this the fault of the Gods? Did they decide to punish us for…some sin? Am I being punished?”

“For what?” Teek coughed. “What did you do?”

“I don’t know,” Bally sighed. “I must have done something to deserve this, else the Gods wouldn’t have laid it on my shoulders.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in the Gods.”

“I don’t!” Bally turned a sickly grin to Teek’s curious eyes. “That’s what makes it so vexing!”

The mumbling monk pulled a thoughtful face, taking a short swig from his jug before clearing his throat. “Well, good fool, I’m just a monk. I can tell you about medicines, ask that you respect the Gods’ teachings, I can even offer you advise when it comes to your daily relationships with men and women. I cannot answer for you what happens when things just don’t work the way you want them to.”

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” Bally’s head waggled.

“Is it?”

“Of course it is!”

“It is?”

“I’m sure it is.”

They continued walking. The noise in the town was getting louder. Something was on the move.

“So, no blessing then?”

“I don’t think it would help,” Teek shrugged, “if you don’t believe.”

“I’d believe if it helped me,” Bally sighed.

“Well then,” Teek grinned, “I guess that’s proof it doesn’t work, isn’t it? If I believe it helped, it helped. If I don’t believe it helped, it didn’t. Not much difference between a blessing and a prayer, then, is there? Just one comes from me and one comes from you.”

Bally stared at the mumbling monk for a moment, and then coughed. “You know, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You certainly sound wise, but I’m not entirely sure that you are.”

“Aye?” the mumbling monk tapped his nose with his finger. “I wonder how many people have said as much to you about being foolish?”

Bally thought for a moment. “None?”

“Then you are easily a better fool than I am a monk,” Teek grinned, clapping Bally on the back. “Come, I seem to have found my taste for wine once more. If you will join me?”

“I’d better not,” Bally glanced once more at the window. The shouting was quite loud. “I find myself curious about this noise at the gate. I should go and see what it is.”

“Should you?” Teek winked.