Sebastian Darke: Prince of Fools (17 page)

avail: Cornelius was simply too fast for him. The third time that Klart tried it, Cornelius danced quickly in, jabbed a punch into one of the giant's knees and danced out again. Klart bellowed with anger and tried lashing out with one foot, hoping, no doubt, to kick Cornelius clear off the courtyard; but the little man nimbly stepped aside and caught the heel of Klart's extended foot in his hands. He pulled sharply upwards, effortlessly tipping the giant off balance.

Klart fell backwards and hit the marble floor with such an impact that he cracked a couple of tiles. He gave a grunt of dull surprise and was about to get back up when Cornelius performed an agile somersault, leaping up into the air and coming down hard on Klart's stomach, driving all the air out of him. The big man doubled up with a grunt and, as his head came forward, Cornelius took two fingers and rammed them up Klart's nostrils, as far as they would go. Then he began to twist the fingers around.

A bellow of agony came out of Klart, so loud that Sebastian had to cover his ears, for fear of them bursting. The giant was trying to pull away from Cornelius, but the little warrior had hooked his fingers in tightly and the big man simply could not shake free of his grasp.

'Now,' said Cornelius calmly, 'just say mercy and I shall release you.'

Klart did say something but it sounded like, 'Arrrrrggggghhhhhh!' He increased his attempts to get free, even swatting at Cornelius with his huge hands, but Cornelius hung grimly on and twisted even more. The crowd was going wild now, shouting and cheering for Cornelius.

'Doh!' roared Klart. 'Pleeeese, dopppit!'

'Not till you ask for mercy,' insisted Cornelius.

There was a long moment while the big man tried to resist saying anything; but Cornelius gave an extra hard twist until his two fingers were arranged vertically. Finally, clearly in agony, Klart had to yield.

'Merzy!' he bellowed. 'Merzy!'

Cornelius relinquished his hold, wiped his fingers on Klart's robe and hopped down off his chest. He strolled back to an astonished King Septimus and made a formal bow as the crowd broke into wild applause.

'Your majesty,' he said, 'it will be an honour to serve you.'

The king looked like somebody who had just awoken from a dream to discover that he had sleepwalked naked into a crowded marketplace. He gazed around at the cheering, applauding crowd and then down at the smiling face of Cornelius, and he shrugged his shoulders.

'Very well,' he said. 'It would seem that you are now a member of the Crimson Cloak.' He threw a disgusted look at Klart, who had got back to his feet and was standing rubbing his throbbing nose. 'And as for you, you big oaf, get out of my sight!'

Klart looked crestfallen. He turned and shambled dejectedly back to whichever dark corner he had emerged from. Sebastian felt quite sorry for him. He was not the first warrior to learn the hard way that Cornelius was a gifted fighter. As he slunk away, he received a chorus of jeers and boos from the very crowd that had been applauding him when he arrived. It made Sebastian appreciate how fickle an audience could be.

'And now,' said King Septimus, 'let us go in and—'

'Ahem!' said Max. 'Excuse me, your majesty . . .'

The king paused and looked back at him in surprise.

'I hope you weren't forgetting me,' said Max. 'After all, I
did
play a very big part in the rescue.'

'A buffalope?' said King Septimus in disbelief. 'A beast of burden?'

'He doesn't much care for that description,' said Sebastian anxiously. 'He thinks of himself more as my—'

'Partner,' prompted Max.

'Well, he did take on the Brigands,' admitted Cornelius.

'And two huge lupers,' added Princess Kerin.

The king looked at each of them in turn, as though hardly believing the situation he had found himself in. His face turned a deep shade of purple, and for a moment it seemed as though he was going to start yelling at people. But then he managed to get control of himself. He sighed and spread out his hands in a gesture of defeat.

'Oh . . . very well,' he said. 'Supposing I have him installed in the royal stables alongside my best equines? They eat the finest food and lead a pampered existence. I hardly see that there could be a more appropriate reward for a . . . a buffalope.'

'That sounds most agreeable,' said Max, after some consideration. 'And if your majesty could see his way to sending me a few fresh pommers, to go with my dinner, that would be a wonderful bonus!'

Sebastian glared at Max. 'Don't push it!' he warned him.

For an instant King Septimus seemed somewhat flustered. But then he looked at his niece and gazed around at the crowd of onlookers, who were hanging onto his every word, and he managed to force a smile. 'Of . . . course,' he said. 'For the ones who saved the life of Princess Kerin, nothing is too much trouble.' He beckoned to someone in the crowd and a man stepped forward, a stocky, brutish-looking fellow in a leather jerkin. 'Ostler, take this . . . this fine animal to the royal stables. See that he has everything he needs to make him comfortable. And please ensure that Mr Darke's caravan is safely stored away until he has need of it.'

The ostler gazed at Max, nonplussed for a moment. Clearly it would be the first time that a buffalope had enjoyed the luxury of the royal stables. But he knew better than to question the king. He bowed his head. 'As you command, sire,' he said and, reaching up to Max's halter, he began to lead the buffalope and caravan away across the square, the crowd shuffling aside to let him through.

'I'll see you later,' Max called over his shoulder. 'After I've rested.'

Sebastian and Cornelius exchanged amused glances.

'I pity that poor ostler,' murmured Sebastian. 'I would say his patience is about to be tested to the very limit.'

Now King Septimus turned his attention to Captain Tench. 'Captain, I have a task for you.'

'Of course, sire.' Captain Tench dismounted and handed the reins of his equine to one of his other men. He walked quickly across to the steps and went down on one knee. 'What is your pleasure, your majesty?'

'I wish you to see to it that Captain Drummel is installed in the quarters assigned to the Crimson Cloak. He is to be treated with the respect due to all members of my personal bodyguard. Have I made myself clear?'

'Yes, sire.' Tench got back to his feet and gazed down at the little warrior, then gestured for him to follow. Though he was obeying his orders without hesitation, the expression on Captain Tench's face suggested that he would rather be throwing himself into a pit of excrement than doing this.

The little warrior grinned up at Sebastian. 'No doubt I'll see you at the feast later on,' he said. And he followed Captain Tench across the courtyard towards the palace entrance.

The king turned to look at Sebastian. 'Now, Mr Darke, that only leaves you to take care of. Let me see now – who would be the best person? Ah, yes. Malthus!'

The king's skinny little personal assistant jumped forward as though he had been prodded in the buttocks with a hot knife. 'Yes, your majesty?'

'Take Mr Darke to our most opulent guest room and ensure that he wants for nothing. You will personally see to his every wish.'

'Of course, your majesty.' Malthus turned to Sebastian and bowed his head in reverence. 'If you would care to follow me, Mr Darke?'

Sebastian was thrilled. He just wished his mother were here to see him, standing in this fabulous place and being treated like a lord. He glanced at Princess Kerin and saw that she was smiling at him once again.

'What do you think of Keladon so far?' she asked mischievously.

'Your royal highness, it's beyond my wildest dreams!' he told her. 'I never expected to be treated so grandly'

'It is only what you are worth,' she assured him. 'I'll let you get settled into your chambers and I'll look forward to your performance tonight.'

'Umm . . . yes, tonight.' Sebastian had temporarily forgotten about his impending debut and her words seemed to unleash a whole flock of butterflies in his stomach. He bowed once more to King Septimus, and as he did so, he noticed that the king was gazing at his niece, his face quite expressionless – and yet once again Sebastian's elvish sixth sense seemed to tingle. He was now quite convinced that although King Septimus pretended to care for Princess Kerin, he actually despised her.

'Now, Princess,' he heard him say, 'you'll be wanting to see the special birthday present I have for you . . .'

But there was no time to dwell on it. Malthus was leading the way towards the magnificent open doors of the palace and Sebastian had to follow. Hopefully, he would have the opportunity to talk to Princess Kerin later.

The huge crowd behind him cheered with enthusiasm, and as he followed Malthus, he had a wild urge to skip like a happy child. It was only by an exceptional effort that he managed to stop himself.

Sebastian had never seen anything like it. From the cool marble-clad floors to the high, gold-embellished ceilings, this was opulence on a scale that made him want to walk around with his mouth hanging open. The walls were adorned with massive paintings and richly embroidered textiles. Huge stone pillars rose from floor to ceiling, each of them carved with a multitude of faces, figures and fantastical creatures. Every surface was encrusted with ornaments of gold and silver, decorated with precious jewels. And every doorway was flanked by armed soldiers in full uniform, brandishing swords or spears.

Sebastian was beginning to see that the stories he had heard about King Septimus's wealth were no exaggeration. He truly must be the richest man in the known world. And who would be surprised to learn that he was not eager to hand that wealth on to somebody else?

Malthus led Sebastian up a huge curving staircase, hewn from pure white marble. At intervals along the staircase, life-size paintings of austere-looking men and women, dressed in their finery, glowered down at whoever passed by.