The Haunted Traveler Vol. 1 Issue 1

46
“You’re probably right,” I agreed, and waited.
“It was that bloody ghost,” he muttered.
“The ghost? I thought that was one of the main attractions.”
“It bloody was.”
“So what happened? Didn’t it show up? Surely some nut
out for publicity would claim to have caught sight of it, or
another ghost, or something.”
“No, that wasn’t it, and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.
People don’t need to see a ghost, but they’ll pay a bit more
to know that they might,” explained Andy. “The problem
was that this ghost kept appearing and then - doing what it
oughtn’t.”
“Tell me more,” I said, intrigued.
I had become fond of the ghost ever since Andy had told
me its tale after buying the Hall. It was a jester, in traditional
parti-coloured motley, cap and bells and all, and had been
the favourite of a king, many centuries ago.
Fero the Fool had been blessed with many skills, juggling,
tumbling and mimicry among them, but his most outstanding
(not to say useful) trait was his ability to tell truth from
lies. He would imitate cardinals, ambassadors and generals
while juggling with their seals of office or mitres, and burst
out laughing if they lied, as people at Court have so often to
do. This diverted the king enormously, and he would wag his
finger at the pompous courtier or slimy prelate and cry, “Aha,
you’ve been found out! Fero has found you out!”
Many times Fero proved useful to the king when powerful
factions attempted political manipulation. Once, two noblemen
staged a disagreement during a State dinner, to try to
force the king to make an unwise declaration on a matter of
some sensitivity.
“A play! A play!” cried Fero, and clapped his hands.
The nobles frowned, and attempted to carry on their discussion.
“An Englishman’s religion,” began one, and as he contin-