Half the men in England would give a testicle to feast thus, and it only mid-day. I liked to tell him my troubles, sure that they would not travel far. He was a thin, sickly lad, chosen, no doubt, for his weakness of constitution, and a predisposition toward dropping dead at the slightest provocation. 'Have you seen Drool ?' I asked Taster, who sat at the table staring sadly at a bread trencher laid out with cold pork, the king's dinner. The kitchen buzzed - the staff preparing for a feast. 'He was in the kitchen before the watch,' said the yeoman. 'Have you seen Drool? With Gloucester here, there'll be a command performance.' My apprentice, Drool - a beef-witted bloke the size of a draught horse. 'Not bloody likely,' the yeoman said, 'everyone knows the king's got a wing o'er you.' 'Gloucester's a noble, he doesn't need a case for murder, just a whim and a blade.' 'Heard he was going to have you assassinated, but he couldn't make a case to the king.' I made a note to shove the guard off the wall when opportunity presented. The way you was bleatin' I thought ol' Drool was givin' it to you right proper up the bung.' A service that - trying to shock the poor wretch out of his grief, wasn't it?' 'You did it the last time he was here and she was still warm in the grave.' 'Gloucester, eh? Be sure you do that bit where you play a goat and Drool plays the earl mistaking you for his wife.' 'With his son Edgar and the bastard Edmund!' 'The Earl of Gloucester approaches!' cried a sentry on the west wall. Still, it may have been a mistake to teach one to talk. The legend says that as long as there are ravens at the Tower, England will stand strong. A thousand years ago, before George II, idiot king of Merica, destroyed the world, there were ravens here. There have always been ravens at the White Tower. The yeoman grumbled and spat after the raven.

I jumped onto the wall and bowed - at your fucking service, thank you. A ferryman looked up from his boat, saw us on the tower, and waved. The yeoman took a swipe at the bird with his spear and the great black bird swooped off the wall and went cawing out over the Thames. 'I'm duty-bound foolish, yeoman,' said I. 'Foolish teachin' him to talk, if you ask me,' said the sentry. Excerpt contains language that may be offensive to some.

Fool book christopher moore