The three women turned to see Feste the Clown standing behind them, with his lute in hand and a grin on his face. As Olivia's personal entertainer, his presence away from the manor was out of the ordinary, but not unexpected. After all, he has fooled many a time for the Duke, and he was bound to serve Sebastian as he served the Countess, as per their betrothal. But why he was outside the tavern singing rather than inside, Viola could only guess. "How now, fool, as I perceive that you are, why singest thou here when the festive air is thicker within? Art thou witless?" she asked gruffly, settling into a lower speaking range.
"A fool, young master? Callest me a fool? I ask, what is more foolish, a fool that fools as he ought, or a fool that pretends not to be so. For such I perceive thou art such, and as I do indeed have my wits about me still this evening, so it must be," Feste asked.
"Callest me a fool then, do you Clown? How now am I a fool?" Viola returned, indignant.
"In answer of that young master, I shall question you," Feste answered.
Viola had to fight the urge to smile. She knew this game well. It was one of the fool's favorites. Best play ignorant now, she told herself, lest you be recognized. She stepped up to him, raising her chin like a rebellious teenage boy. "Ask me the questions, thou Lute-Keeper. I am not afraid!"
"To begin young master, where goest thou this night?"
"I go to the tavern, to celebrate the marriage of our beloved Duke of Illyria and the gentleman Sebastian who is to be Count to Her Grace Olivia."
"Comest thou not to stare at their noble brides?"
Viola swallowed hard, but stayed the course. "Fool, they are not in the tavern. It would be foolish of them to venture out on this their marriage eve."
Feste came closer, and beckoned the other two into their confidence "And so, young mistress, thou art a fool, and your friends with thee. For I know thee and thy companion for maids, and this thy gentlewoman and friend."
Olivia's voice grew thick, but she remained composed. "How didst thou know us, dear fool?" she asked quietly.
"I was in the brush just now, and I heard the rustling of the leaves. I stayed behind to see what it might bear out. I needed only to see the likeness of Sebastian upon the Duchess, and know Sebastian for certain to be where I left him inside the tavern. A fool I may be, but Sebastian is no magician, therefore his very doppelganger of a sister that young master couldst only be. Simple puzzling gave thee away, madonna, and only Lady Mary would follow thee in this thy folly."
Olivia sobbed softly and Maria began to fume again, but she bit her tongue to keep from railing. Viola looked at the ground. "Will you give us away?" she finally asked.
"Nay, my ladies, nay. Mercury has smiled upon thee tonight, to give thee more daring in thy folly! I shall watch thee tonight as I fool for the crowd, thou shalt fear no harm. Come, celebrate!"
It was decided that Feste would enter the tavern in song, therefore attracting attention to him, and thereafter the ladies would enter unmarked by anyone. Or at least Viola held her breath as he went in singing:
"When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came to man's estate
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain
'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate
For the rain it rainteth every day."
All eyes were turned to Feste. Mugs were raised, pats and slaps and cheers of approval rang out and filled the tavern. "Let us in now, my friends, the time will ne'er be better," Viola hissed, and they crept forward, silently finding seats near the door. Not a man looked their way as the music continued:
"But when I came unto my beds,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain
With tosspots still had drunken heads
For the rain it raineth everyday."
At the mention of "tosspots," the tavern broke out into catcalls and "here, here!" Everyone sang the last line of the song with Feste, who finished the song with a flourish on the lute. Orsino, tears in his eyes, threw money at Feste.
Feste immediately bought a mug of ale for himself and each of the ladies. As the din of the tavern increased to its former rumble, he brought them over. They sat together, chatting and laughing.
As the night wore on, a few old men walking out felt the distinct need to slap her on the back and tell her congratulations, or lament the loss of her "fighting days." "Sure you're ready to go out to pasture, old boy?" they'd ask. Each time such a comment was made, she tried her best to imitate her brother. "Yes, well, a man can't live forever on the sea," she'd say, or "Remember me to your sisters; for they may weep, but I go on to a better place."
Olivia watched her new sister handle each man in turn, confidently answering them, joking with them, and shaking their hands as though such a thing was not out of ordinary. She had to remind herself constantly that Viola had spent nearly two months under the guise of Cessario, page to Orsino. Manly ways were not so foreign to her, and Olivia saw with new eyes why she and Sebastian had failed to connect. She wanted Sebastian to open his heart the way Viola opened hers. She wanted a tenacious commitment to her virtue and the love of her. Viola had once described how a man might win a lady by making a shelter outside the front door belonging to the woman he loved. There he would remain, reciting poetry each day, suing for her attention, waiting hopefully for even a glance at her.
She turned her attention to Sebastian just in time to a hooded figure pass him. It paused only momentarily, leaning in towards him. What happened next was a blur of motion and sound. Sebastian rose quickly, unsheathing his sword knocking the figure backward onto a table full of drinks. The hood fell back to reveal a simpering older man, hair worn long and wearing what was once a smart noble livery, now torn and weather beaten. Sebastian put the point of his sword to the man's throat. Everyone was standing in the tavern, there was shouting and screaming. But it died down to a whisper when Maria piped up loudly, "That's Malvolio, the countess's former man-servant!"
"Knave, wilt thou mock my lady again? For I swear, the moment you do, my blade will find your throat and you shall speak no more!" Sebastian roared.
"Pardon me, sir. I only wanted to warn you once again about her deceitful ways, lest you come under her spell and be made a fool as I was," he replied loudly, searching the eyes of the crowd for reception of his statement.
The whispers now rose to a dull roar. Sebastian slid the blade nearer Malvolio's flesh. "I should kill you for that public slander," he hissed.
"Ah, strong words for a bugger!" Malvolio spat back.
Sebastian let out a horrible yell, and pulled his arm back to strike. Olivia saw a flash of silver proceed from Malvolio's cloak, and before she could help it she screamed at the top of her lungs, "Look out!"
Sebastian parried the death blow just in time, but in the scuffle Malvolio rolled off the table towards Olivia, grabbing her ankle which threw her off balance. She fell to the floor, and her hat slid off, causing her hair to fall into the ale spotted floor. Everyone gasped and stepped back as Malvolio stood her up and held her in front of him, his dagger to her neck.
"Olivia!" Sebastian asked.
"Sebastian, I'm sorry," she said, her face wet with tears. He knew something like this would happen. Why did she ever agree to leave the manor?
"Silence, wanton woman! Tonight I shall save all mankind from the evils of thy ways!" Malvolio yelled.
He raised the dagger. In a flash, a spittoon landed on his head, knocking him senseless.
A stunned silence permeated the crowd as they watched Malvolio fall backward. Olivia slithered out of his grip as he fell. She tripped straight into Sebastian's arms. Everyone looked up to the staircase landing. Two pairs of breeched legs dangled from the railing. Their owners smiled and waved sheepishly.
"Cess... I mean, Viola?" Orsino sputtered.
"Ah, my Maria. Terribly clever, I must admit," nodded Sir Toby approvingly.
Sebastian was holding Olivia tightly. "Viola," he said, looking up, "We shall speak anon about tonight's adventures. For now," he pulled back from Olivia and looked into her eyes, "Speak poetry on my behalf that will restore my darling to rights in the eyes of the people."
Viola smiled, nodded, and began to speak to the people of Olivia's character, assuring them of her maiden virtue. Meanwhile, Sebastian took her hand and led her out the back door of the crowded tavern.
"Sebastian," she said as they walked along in the moonlight, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to..."
Sebastian stopped and put a gentle hand to her lips, then removed it and kissed them. "My sweet, I am glad thou art here tonight. I almost lost the sight of thy wondrous eyes forever, and that single event has revealed to me what I was afraid I might never discover. Olivia, darling, it all happened so fast before, but tonight, on our marriage eve, I tell thee that I love thee with all my heart." He bent down on one knee in the street, and Olivia's eyes, sparkling with tears, followed his toward the ground.
"I here again plight my troth to thee, my fair Olivia. I promise to love thee ever truly, whether thou be well or not, rich or not, happy or not. Thou shalt bear my children, and when I die thou shalt have all that I possess, and they in turn. This is my solemn promise to you."
Olivia, happy tears raining down her face, fell upon him on her knees. "I do love thee, my Sebastian, now more than ever."