The actual penultimate chapter (maybe), in which The Fool and The Poet (me) move closer to the throne to better observe the machinations of The Cup-Bearer and The Steward as they try to unmask the ruse concocted by The Prince and The Maid.

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I’ll let The Fool begin this bitter play,
As, as we closer crept, I heard him say,
“They seem a merry bunch, but look at he:
The rotten one; that Cup-Bearer; that flea
Upon the rump of gnats; that boneless squid,
More fluid than meat; that breath God should forbid,
Sidling up to Steward Stick-Up-His-Arse;
That manikin man; that stickler for ordered farce.
The Flea whispers a joke, clearly a flop,
As Stewy The Stalwart Steward’s in a strop,
Looking at our young prince and German squeeze
Like each of ‘em’s the source of some disease!”
Now close enough we heard the Steward say,
“Countess, are you fond of beasts that bray?”
“Of horses?” said, with Saxon lilt, The Maid,
Looking as though her species was betrayed.
“I've heard”, continued The Steward, “Some delight
So much being near them spend they all the night
In convalescence in the stable’s loft
Lying in loving arms on pillows soft.”
“I would not know,” she said now blushing red.
The Prince grew red as well but anger fed,
“You, Steward, speak of nonsense to distract
From how The Fool showed wisdom where you lacked.”
“’Tis true,” whispered the Fool to me, “although
The boy should not have let his cheeks thus glow,
For cooler tongues betray no lies we say
While hotter ones show guilt as bright as day.”
The King piped up, confused at their discourse,
“Explain to me this nonsense ‘bout a horse.”
“’Tis noth’ng my liege,” The Cup-Bearer said sweetly,
“Some evidence was found that, quite discretely,
Two lovers had been meeting for a tryst
Within the stable loft. No doubt they kissed
And did as lover’s do until discovered
They leapt, so their identities stayed covered,
Into...