It looked like a fraternity. Then he mewed.
The man looked down again with a faint frown. He didn't seem to notice
the straw shapes; judging from the way he held the book he was quite
short-sighted. "Out?" he asked. "Out for a rat, poor Tybalt? Or to lie
by the embers in the hall?" He shook his head and got up, and went to
the door to open it. Dax jumped onto the bed and mewed again. The man
paused with his hand on the latch, looking puzzled. Dax jumped down and
dabbed with his paw next each letter successively.
"Why, what is this?" the old man said, smiling again. "Playfulness? The
kitten is back!" He went to the table and picking up the bauble, made a
feint with the stuffed bladder over Dax's head. Dax dodged it irritably
and mewed again; three times in quick succession.
This caught the attention of the jester, who laid down the bauble.
"Ah! A Tritheist! Will it get you a mouse, Tybalt? Will it keep off
evil spirits? It's said the imps love cats--so beware of moonlight and
mistletoe!" He picked Dax up and stroked him.
It was infuriating.
Dax was aware that the Medieval mind was very different from the
modern, but there must be some meeting point. Too bad this wasn't
Friar Roger Bacon--he'd have got his attention in no time. But he was
a hundred years too early. His immediate problem was to seek out some
person who had enough imagination and curiosity to take notice of a cat
who behaved not as a cat. If he had only known this was going to happen!
He tried mewing again, but the jester only smiled, so he mewed once,
then twice and then three times. The jester shook his head admiringly.
Like most of his contemporaries the world for him was filled with
wonders. It was an age of faith, not of speculation.
A pale moon showed through a narrow slit in the wall, which was
unglazed, and he became aware that the light from the tallow dip was
yellow, and the jester's costume red and green.
So it was all nonsense about cats having no color vision--anyway,
hadn't some woman in California disproved that? Against the moon he
could see the black outline of full-grown leaves on the nearby trees
and knew it was not yet winter but autumn. When winter came in earnest,
everyone from scullion to the lord of the manor would bed down in the
Great Hall where the fire was. But the stonework of the castle was
cold, and he felt himself getting drowsy.
The old jester put down his book, crossed himself and blew out the
light. Dax could hear him burrowing into the straw of his bed, and
nestled beside him.