Sebastian Darke: Prince of Explorers (33 page)

'I never performed for children,' Sebastian said.

'Well, then, perhaps you should! You have a captive audience of children downstairs. Let's face it, none of them are going to walk out on you – not if they value their lives. And the nights are so long in this city. When I was younger and still able to drag myself around on crutches, I used to do my old routines for the children here. How they laughed! Those children have grown up and gone now, but there's a whole bunch down there who've never enjoyed a performance by a jester.' An idea seemed to occur to Aaron and his face brightened. He snapped his fingers. 'Yes, of course!' he said. 'Why didn't I think of that? Sebastian, at the back of the room over there you'll find a wardrobe. Go and open it for me, will you?'

Sebastian did as the old man suggested. The wardrobe was an ancient mahogany one with beautiful brass inlays. He opened the door, revealing a selection of simple white robes.

'Look behind the other garments and see what you find,' suggested Aaron.

Sebastian pulled aside the other clothes and found a beautiful jester's outfit in black-and-yellow striped silk. A matching three-pronged hat hung from a hook on the back of the door.

'This is beautiful,' cried Sebastian. 'Yours?'

'Indeed. My old costume. I took it with me everywhere I went – even on an expedition into the jungle: you just never knew when you might need it. Bring it to me, will you?'

Sebastian carried it over, holding it as though it were some holy relic. Aaron smiled and stroked the smooth material with a blue-veined hand. 'Ah, yes, it looks as though it was made yesterday, does it not?'

'It certainly does. This is fine fabric – it must have cost you a fortune.'

'I was lucky enough to have a friend who was a dressmaker.

She created this costume for me . . .' Aaron's voice seemed to fail him for a moment and his eyes misted with tears. 'Even after all this time, it hurts to remember that I left her behind,' he said. 'I chose adventure and lost somebody very dear to me. I always imagined that I would return with a fortune in gold and jewels and make her my wife. But of course, things rarely go as you plan them to.'

Sebastian couldn't help thinking of a similar situation of his own: it had been his mother he had left behind. He knew that regular payments of gold crowns were being made to her, but it had been so long since he had seen her. He told himself he must try and find his way back to Jerabim before much longer.

Aaron lifted a hand to wipe away the tears. Then he looked at Sebastian. 'Why don't you try the outfit on?' he said.

'What,
me
? Oh no, I couldn't—'

'Of course you could! It looks about your size.'

'Yes, but . . . I've finished with all that nonsense.'

'Why do you say it's nonsense?' asked Aaron sternly. 'Let me tell you, young man, being funny is a serious business. Please, indulge me. There's a room through there where you can change – and a full-length mirror.'

'Very well.' Sebastian found the small room, stripped off his tattered clothes and pulled on the jester's outfit, which fitted him perfectly – much better than his father's old costume ever had. He settled the hat snugly on his head, then regarded his reflection doubtfully in the mirror. Sure enough, the outfit could have been made for him. He returned to the main room and approached the throne.

Aaron beamed when he saw the transformation. 'It's perfect,' he said. 'I see now, Sebastian, that it is not chance that has brought you here, but fate. I want you to have that costume.'

'Oh no, I couldn't possibly take it,' protested Sebastian.

'You can and will! If it stays here in this place of death, then it dies with me. If it goes with you, who knows what new adventures may await it? Now' – Aaron clapped his hands together – 'I ask of you one more thing. I want you to go downstairs and perform your act for the children. Let them decide whether you're a jester or not.'

Sebastian stared at him. 'But . . . they might . . .'

'What? Laugh at you? Hopefully, they will. Now go on.'

'But you don't understand. I can't. I'm just not funny. And besides, the jokes . . . I don't—'

'Don't try to tell me you cannot remember your routine,' said Aaron. 'Once committed to memory, it's something you never forget. I should know, even after all these years: it's there at the back of my mind, ready to be recalled at a moment's notice. Go on, your audience is waiting.'

Sebastian sighed. He turned and went downstairs feeling decidedly stupid in the unfamiliar clothing. He hesitated outside the door of the big room, but finally took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The effect was dramatic. The large group of younger children who had been running around yelling suddenly stopped in their tracks to gaze at him; then, lured by the distinctive costume, they stampeded towards him, laughing delightedly and pulling him into the room. The older children soon came over to see what was going on.

At one end of the room was a raised section that might once have been used as a stage. Sebastian was pushed and prodded onto it and the children settled themselves crosslegged around him, gazing up in anticipation. It was strange. They could never have seen a jester, and yet the brightly coloured costume somehow told them that he was about to perform for them.

For a moment he was lost: he didn't know what to do or say. And then some lines from his father's old routine came to him and he launched straight in.

'Two snakes are crawling through the jungle,' he said. 'One of them says, "Hey, are we poisonous?" The second snake says, "I'm not sure, why do you ask?" And the first snake says, "I think I just bit my tongue."'

A few cautious chuckles greeted this joke and some of the children nudged each other. He pressed on.

'Two lupers are eating a jester. One looks at the other one and says, "Hey, does this taste
funny
to you?"'

Bigger laughs this time.

'A guy goes to the doctor and says, "Hey, Doc, I keep thinking I'm a pair of curtains." The doctor says, "Pull yourself together!" Another guy comes in and says, "Doc, I keep waking up and finding myself lying under my bed." The doctor says, "You must be a little potty!" A third guy comes in and says, "Hey, Doc, I keep thinking I'm a bridge." The doctor says, "What's come over you?" The guy says, "Two equines, a buffalope and a hay wagon!"'

The routine was flowing from him like clockwork and he even found himself mimicking his father's little gestures. He delivered every line with increasing confidence; soon the children's laughter threatened to lift the roof off the building. After a little while Sebastian found himself deviating from the established script and starting to improvise.

'So this Night Runner mother is playing with her baby and she says, "Oh, Junior, you've got your father's eyes. Make sure you give them back when you've finished with them!"'

They loved that one – being invited to laugh at the thing they feared most in the world. It got a great response.

'Hey, what do you call a Night Runner in a bell tower? A dead ringer!'

Likewise.

'Did you hear about the polite Night Runner? Every time he met someone, he said, "I'm pleased to eat you!"'

Now the children were literally roaring with laughter and Sebastian was on a roll. When he found a scrap of paper in one pocket, he decided to try the 'Letter from my mother' routine. This was one of his father's finest moments – it had been copied by jesters the length and breadth of the known world.

'I had a letter from my mother back in Jerabim,' he told the children, adopting a serious tone; and then pretended to read from the slip of paper:

'
Dear Sebastian, I hope you are well. I'm writing this very slowly – I know you're not a quick reader. You'll see some big changes when you come home because we've moved house. It was your father's idea. Somebody told him that most accidents occur within two miles of home, so he decided we should move.
'

The laughter now was coming in waves. Sebastian had to keep pausing to let it die down before he continued.

'
The weather here hasn't been too bad. It only rained twice last week – the first time for three days, the second time for four days. It's been so windy, one of our hens laid the same egg four times
.'

Roars of laughter filled the room.

'
Your brother has an important new job. He has seven hundred men under him. He's cutting the grass at the town cemetery. I am enclosing three socks because you said in your last letter that you'd grown another foot
.'

They were screaming with laughter now and Sebastian had to make a real effort not to join in with them.

'
Well, son, I must finish up now. Your father's dinner is on the stove and there is a terrible smell coming from your loving mother. P.S. I meant to put ten croats in with this letter but I have already sealed the envelope!
'

The audience was in stitches and, encouraged, Sebastian kept going, the jokes spilling out of him in a never-ending stream – old jokes, new jokes, ones he'd just made up. He looked across to the corner where his friends were sitting and saw that Keera, Phelan, Salah and Cornelius were laughing along with everybody else. Even Max looked like he was enjoying himself and Cal's usual sneer had been replaced by a grudging smile.

Inspired, he started improvising jokes about them; jibes about Cornelius's height ('He's so short, he needs turn-ups on his underpants!') and Max's ability to break wind ('He's famous for doing farmyard impressions. Not the noises, just the smells!'). By the time he'd reached the end of the routine, the children were hysterical and the place in uproar. He took a bow at the end and left the stage to the sound of children applauding and yelling for more. As he went to sit with his friends, he seemed to be walking on air; he imagined Aaron up in his throne room, smiling to himself as he heard the sounds of applause drifting up the staircase.

'You were great!' observed Cornelius incredulously as Sebastian threw himself down on a cushion. 'I can't imagine why you gave it all up.'

'You were so funny!' cried Keera.

But Max looked as though he was about to burst into tears.

'What's wrong with you?' Sebastian asked him.

'Your father would have been so proud, young master. If only he had lived to see that performance. So much better than everyone expected!'

'Thanks,' said Sebastian. 'I think.'

Everybody glanced warily at Cal, expecting some kind of put-down, but he just shrugged his powerful shoulders.

'You were good,' he said; and left it at that.

'I suppose that has to be Aaron's old costume,' observed Cornelius.

Sebastian nodded. 'He gave it to me as a parting gift,' he said. 'You know, I wish he'd agree to come with us. I hate the thought of leaving him all alone here. He said that there was one other thing he needed to do but I can't imagine what that might be.'

All eyes turned to Phelan, but if he knew what that something was, he wasn't telling.

The next three days passed in a fever of preparation.

Each morning, Cornelius and Sebastian set out with a work party to make their final adjustments to the ark. These consisted mostly of adding extra struts and braces at what Cornelius had determined were 'danger points'. Sebastian had no idea what difference they would make but he bowed to Cornelius's superior knowledge, saying that what he knew about boats could be written on one fingernail. After all, his homeland Jerabim was in the middle of a desert!