Sebastian Darke: Prince of Fools (20 page)

Septimus scowled and prowled over to look out of the window. The people had moved away from the palace steps now and were drifting back towards the marketplace. With some satisfaction, he saw that the messenger who had brought him the news of Princess Kerin's survival was sitting on the steps, cradling his head in his injured fingers. No doubt news of his 'promotion' had just reached him. King Septimus couldn't be sure, but from up here he got the distinct impression that the man was weeping like a child.

It wasn't much but it lightened the king's mood considerably . . .

After the servant girl had collected his letter, Sebastian found that he couldn't relax and he began to feel more and more nervous about the evening's performance. So he made his way downstairs and asked one of the guards to direct him to the royal stables.

It was behind the palace, set in the midst of some beautiful lush gardens, where more of those incredible fountains splashed their never-ending supplies of water into stone basins.

The stable gates were open and Sebastian went in. On either side of a broad, straw-covered avenue, rows of spacious stalls held some of the most splendid-looking equines he had ever seen: proud, spirited creatures with finely arched necks and flared nostrils. He was just thinking that they made odd stable partners for Max when he heard the familiar doleful voice droning away from a stall down at the far end of the building. It was merely a matter of following the sound, which got progressively louder as he approached.

' . . . so there I was, facing down two huge lupers, both of them slavering at the jaws and ready to tear me to pieces. But they had reckoned without my inbred courage and determination. A twist of my horns and a kick of my back legs and they ran whimpering through the forest, completely vanquished.'

Sebastian ducked his head round the entrance of the final stall and saw Max, lounging on a bed of deep clean straw. His words were directed at a small and rather fat mule, who just stood there looking at him blankly.

'I don't like to boast,' continued Max, 'but we buffalopes are known for our tenacity; and my family more than most. Why, it's said that even at a young age, I was able to—'

Max broke off as he registered the sound of a polite cough from behind him. 'Ah, here's my young master now!' he said. 'Osbert, may I introduce Sebastian Darke, Prince of Fools and King of Jesters?'

The mule looked over at Sebastian and bared his teeth in a goofy grin. "Allo!' he said. 'Osbert much pleased to meet jester man!'

Max gave Sebastian a knowing look. 'Osbert's not the most erudite of companions, but he's the only one here who's actually deigned to talk to me.' He nodded his horned head at the stalls further along the building. 'That lot are all far too stuck up to give me the time of day,' He huffed. 'It's their loss,' he added.

'Their loss,' echoed Osbert. 'Posh twerps.'

Sebastian smiled at Max. 'So how have you settled in?' he asked. 'I trust your dinner was up to scratch?'

'Can't complain,' admitted Max, sounding almost disappointed at the fact. 'They serve a very nice oatmeal with bee's-gold sweetening; and plenty of fresh fruit. Mind you, after that journey, I deserve a bit of feeding up.' He glanced at his companion. 'Osbert has been showing me how things are done around here. He's the army mascot, apparently.'

'Me army good-luck charm,' said Osbert, with evident pride. 'When soldiers march on parade, Osbert go too. It bad luck if anything happen to Osbert. So me well looked after!' Saying so much seemed to have momentarily exhausted him. T go lie down,' he concluded and strolled out of the stall.

Max gazed after him for a moment, then lowered his voice considerably. 'A nice enough fellow but not much going on in the old noggin. Doesn't have a lot to say for himself.'

'Unlike you,' observed Sebastian. 'I think that as I came in, I heard the unmistakable sound of you blowing your own trumpet.'

'Well, you have to make your own entertainment here. It would be a long day indeed without any conversation.'

'Perhaps.' Sebastian gazed around the interior of the stables. 'I must say, this is rather grand. Better appointed than our house back in Jerabim. I don't suppose you know where they stored the caravan, do you? I need some fresh clothes for this evening's performance.'

'It's along here.' Max got back to his feet. 'I'll go with you.'

'Oh, don't disturb yourself,' said Sebastian mockingly. 'I wouldn't want you to
strain
anything.'

'You're developing a sarcastic streak,' said Max disdain?fully. 'It is ill-becoming in one of such tender years.' He led the way out of the stalls and Sebastian followed. 'Feeling confident, are we?' asked Max. 'Only I rather like being here – I wouldn't want anything to happen that might change it—'

'I'm sure I'll be fine,' said Sebastian grimly. 'But thanks for your vote of confidence.'

'Now stop taking everything as a personal affront. I was only saying . . .'

They had reached a large storage bay at the far end of the stables, and there stood Sebastian's caravan.

'Here it is, safe and sound,' announced Max. 'It's lucky I'm so close. I've been able to keep an eye on it.'

'Hmm.' Sebastian wasn't convinced. He noted that the wooden tailgate was down – he was sure it hadn't been when he'd left it. Sure enough, as he came nearer, he heard the soft sounds of movement from within, and one hand went instinctively to the handle of his sword. He stepped onto the tailgate and peeped inside the jumbled interior. A short, cloaked figure was bent over a container of props, searching through its contents with two gnarled hands.

'Who are you?' demanded Sebastian angrily. 'What are you doing in my caravan?'

The figure jolted round, revealing an ancient, wizened face, one eye no more than a white sightless blob. As Sebastian stared at it, the face broke into a hideous, gap-toothed grimace, which was probably intended to be a smile, but which in the gloom of the caravan's interior was absolutely terrifying. Max gave a snort of fear and shrank back from the steps. Sebastian began to pull his sword from its sheath, but paused as the creature spoke to him.

'Fear not, young master, it is only I, Magda, adviser to King Septimus.'

'What do you want here?' asked Sebastian.

'The king bade me come down and, er . . . ensure that you have everything you need for tonight's performance.'

Sebastian was unconvinced. 'If that's the case, wouldn't you have been better off coming to my chambers?' he said.

'Oh, well, I . . . thought I'd find you down here . . . making preparations.' Magda's spindly fingers gestured at the various props and costumes that hung in the crowded interior. 'I must say, you have a fine collection of equipment. I couldn't help noticing this.' The fingertips brushed against the side of a large upright wooden cabinet that was secured against one wall.

'Oh, the disappearing cabinet,' said Sebastian without enthusiasm. 'Yes, my father used that in his act, but I—'

'You are a
magician?'
Magda seemed quite excited at this news.

'I'd hardly call myself that! But I do sometimes include the odd magic trick in my performance.'

'Splendid news!' Magda clapped her hands together in a show of apparent delight. 'His majesty loves magic tricks, particularly disappearing acts. He will be thrilled! Princess Kerin too!'

Sebastian came up the steps into the wagon. 'I wasn't planning to include this illusion in tonight's performance.'

'Oh, why not?' Magda gave him a disapproving look. 'You do not wish to please his majesty?'

'Well, er . . . of course I do! It's just that the trick isn't part of my usual routine. I generally just tell jokes.'

'Jokes. Hmm.' Magda looked decidedly troubled. She paced around the cramped interior of the wagon for a while. 'Well, it's entirely up to you, of course, but . . .'

'What?'

'That's what our
last
jester said.
I just tell jokes.'

This was worrying news to Sebastian. He hadn't been aware that somebody had been here before him. 'There was another jester?' he enquired.

'Oh yes. Percival, his name was. A merry soul. How we used to laugh at his antics!' She sighed, shook her head. 'Such a pity, what happened to him.'

'What do you mean,
what happened to him?'

'Well . . . his majesty very quickly got tired of the jokes and riddles and requested something . . . er . . . different. Alas, poor Percival could not think of anything else to amuse the king and so he got the chop.'

'He lost his job?' asked Sebastian hopefully.

'He lost his
head.
You see, King Septimus is not a man to suffer fools gladly. Those who fail to entertain him in one way, generally find themselves entertaining him in another. By meeting with his executioner.'

'Oh.' Sebastian sat down, rather heavily, on a wicker chest. He might have known it wouldn't be as straightforward as he'd imagined. Yes, he was now employed as the king's jester, just as he had hoped to be – but if the king didn't find him
funny,
it might just be the shortest spell of employment in history.

Magda came and sat on the wicker chest alongside him. 'That is why, young Master Darke, I think you should include some magic tricks as well. If poor Percival had been able to offer such diversions, the chances are he might still be with us.'

Sebastian licked his lips nervously. 'Perhaps you're right,' he admitted. 'It wouldn't harm to keep him sweet.' He looked up at the old hag. 'It's very good of you to help me out like this.'

Magda gave a little bow. 'My pleasure,' she assured him. 'After all, we both want the same thing, do we not? A happy king means an untroubled life . . . and when he sees the vanishing act—'

'Oh, I really don't think I can do that one.'

Magda looked decidedly annoyed. 'Why not?' she asked.

'Well, because it requires an assistant. And I don't have one.'

'An assistant? What do you mean, an assistant?'

'Well, somebody who can vanish, obviously'

Magda appeared to be deep in thought. 'Couldn't you ask for somebody from the audience?'

Sebastian shook his head. 'That's no use. They'd see how the trick was done. It has to be somebody I can trust not to tell anybody how it was achieved.'

Magda gave him a sly look. 'You mean to tell me it's not
real
magic?'

'No, there's a secret compartment at the back of the—' He realized she was playing with him. 'Oh, very good! But you see, unless I can get an accomplice, I can't—'