Only a fool can fool a fool, but, with a king’s wits, who can tell!
I'm off to make a fool of a fool, and a fool of a kingdom too.
I might lose my head by the kings-man's ax, but I'll try to fool him too!"
The room parted hastily for the old fool as he skipped, tumbled, and danced his way toward the throne room’s entrance. The shifting colors of his costume, and the tinkling of the bells on his motley, were eerily hypnotic. The old fool was a startling sight. No one in the kingdom had ever seen anything like him. They all may have remembered King Rigert’s old fool, but the jester before them hardly resembled that person. They weren’t sure whether to be afraid or laugh at the silly, but intimidating little jester.
The foul, hopeless mood of the kingdom’s people rolled over the fool like a steamy tidal wave. He knew it was impossible to take away all of their frustration and fear. Nevertheless, he would try, for that’s what a fool is for. He began turning slowly in a circle, howling for a stool to be brought to him. The farmer, and the men guarding him, stopped. A table appeared, and the fool climbed atop of it and began doing flip after flip. He landed in the exact same place, over and over again, as the crowd gathered around him. He landed in a one-handed handstand. Seeing that he now had everyone’s attention, he slowly righted himself and looked around. The crowd was hushed, and in their silence, the fool went into a series of gravity defying spins that ended with a forward somersault. He stopped by stomping his feet loudly down on the table with his arms spread open wide, and called out, “People of my kingdom, have no fear, for I am here now!” He leaned forward and made a bouquet of flowers explode from his hand. He frantically shredded their petals, then turned in a circle and danced a quick jig, causing the bells on his motley to tinkle. The petals he was throwing fluttered down on the crowd like snowflakes.
“I’ve come to relieve our new king’s fool, and rid us of the smell…
And, when that’s done, I’ll relieve the king, why not, I might as well!”
The old fool looked out at them, grinning like an idiot.
“Who are you?” someone yelled. The sentiment was echoed by a hundred murmurs.
The sentenced farmer shouted over all of them. “It’s not the new fool who is the foooo…” his statement ended when one of the guards elbowed him in the chest.
“Un-hand that man!” The fool danced a tantrum and pointed at them. “He has done no wrong! I command you to let him go!”
“Who are you to command anybody?” One of the guards yelled back.
“The king will love this crazy bastard!” the other guard added.
“If the king you serve told you to cut off your leg, so that he could watch you bleed to death, would you do so?”
The guards looked at him stupidly while several people came filtering out of the throne room to see what the commotion was in the hall. From the back of the group, the new fool wiggled and wormed his way toward the door so that he could see for himself.
“If that king in there said that stone was water, and water was stone, would it be?” The old fool did a flip and jingled his motley bells, drawing everyone’s attention back on himself.
“If our king was to poop in a plate, and call it pudding, would you still eat it?” The tinkling of his bells danced merrily through the soft sound of the people’s stifled chuckles. “I’d bet all the money in your pockets that our king, even though he is a king, is only a man. And, from what his mistress tells me, he’s not even a very big man, if you ladies know what I mean.” The last was said in a mock gossipy whisper.
The crowd’s laughter was louder this time, and the fear that had been restraining their mirth was starting to melt away. The madman making the jokes on the table was the one who would surely lose his head, not them for laughing at him. Besides, his expressions, his gestures, and his mockery were just plain comical.
“As a matter of fact,” the fool said, with a finger raised high in the air. “It is the King’s nasty little fool, I hear, who can tell us just exactly how big of a man our king really is.” His hand lowered, his pointing finger coming to rest on the new King’s jester, just as he squirmed into the open area around the old fool’s table. When the new fool realized that he was the butt of the joke his face turned red.
“You’ll lose your head for this, man,” the new fool yelled. “And I will personally make sure that the king shows you just how big his manhood is, just before the ax falls.”
“My little, little friend,” the old fool condescended sadly. “What do you do here but mock the people, and kiss the arse of a king that has no kingdom left to rule?”
Some of the gathered people found themselves shouting out in agreement with the strange old jester’s words. Others found themselves heart heavy, in anticipation of the colorfully blunt character’s upcoming death.
“There!” the new fool said, pointing at some familiar people in the crowd, then, at some others. “And there, and there, and there, those are the king subjects, and he rules them well, and just. They should be grateful.”
“Grateful!” the king of fools stomped the table and yelled with a voice as deep and hard as thunder. “Well and just?” He put his hands on his hips and glared down at the new fool, like an angry mother scolding a child. “You’re too stupid to be a fool!” Some of the people were laughing again. “I’ll wager your job against mine that you can’t make a single person in this entire hall laugh out loud. And I will even get them laughing for you before you try, so that they will be in the mood.”
“You’re crazy!” the new fool said, hotly. He rushed at the old fool aggressively. “A fool I am!” the old fool said, before leaping into a twisting flip, which carried him over the charging jester. He planted his feet solidly on the floor, directly behind the new fool. With a disappointing shake of his head, he tapped the new fool on the shoulder, just as his tackling arms came closed on the thin air. The room exploded into laughter again. The new fool spun, and swung a wild fist as he turned, but the old fool dropped into a split, and the fist missed its mark. The new fool spun, off-balance, and the old fool helped him with a well timed push, sending his counterpart twisting and tumbling to the floor at the feet of several laughing people.
The merriment was brought to a sudden halt when the king and half a dozen guards swarmed out of the throne room into the hall. The King shouldered his way past his guards and found his fool floundering on the floor. King Hamrick pounded the butt of his staff on the floor. The deep, thumping sounds silenced the crowd immediately, save for a few people in the back whose laughter was still ringing out.
The old fool did a back flip and landed directly in front of the King. When he planted his feet on the wooden table, he stomped them three times in the exact same tattoo the king had made with his staff. The old fool bowed with a flourish, his face full of mock severity. “King Hamrick, I hate to tell you this in public, but your witless fool seems to think that he is actually funny. I can’t imagine that a wise, righteous king, such as you, could find any humor in such a dolt.” The old fool paused, and looked around with a sarcastically timid expression at the crowd of on lookers. “You… you don’t… You don’t actually think he’s funny do you?”
“Kill him, at once!” the new fool commanded, as he pointed up at the shimmering Lunatic Fringe. “He said that your manhood was small! “Put him on the block, bend him over, and show him how large you are, my King.”
“Better yet, your highness, put your manhood on the block,” the old fool blurted out. “I’d bet you all the gold in the land that the ax man couldn’t even strike flesh!”
From the back of the crowd, more than a few people laughed out loud. Not a single person there could completely hide their smile, especially not the Prince of the Isles. Even the Duke and Earl that had followed the king out of the throne room chuckled.
The King’s angry glare wiped away most of the mirth in the room, but the Prince of the Isles only laughed harder as he moved toward the table. “You have to admit it. He is funny, King
Hamrick,” the Prince chuckled.
The King ignored the Prince. The commerce from the islands was too important to risk a controversy there. “Who are you to speak to me so?” King Hamrick roared at the old fool. “I’ll let my pooch boy keep you for a pet for a while, before I personally flay you for your insolence!”
The room was silent again as everybody held their breath, waiting for the King to sic his guards on the funny man in the colorful jester suit, but apparently the King wanted to hear an answer.
“A bit of advice, sir,” the old fool said. “It’s better, when threatening a person, to snarl, or growl, or something similar. The jiggling of crimson-flustered jowls does not convey your rage well. Oh... and… ah, being Pooch Boy’s pet, and being flayed by you personally, well… It just doesn’t work for me.” The old fool looked around the room with a smirk, and shrugged his shoulders. “I mean… I mean, I’m not frightened. Can’t you do better than that?” He crossed his arms, looked towards a ceiling, and put a finger to his chin in contemplation. “How about, I’ll boil your manhood while you watch, then feed it to Pooch Boy?” He comically cringed with his crotch at the thought of it. “Or, no, wait… How about, I’ll chain you to the dungeon walls, and make you listen to Pooch Boy tell jokes, until you die of old age? Now, that is a frightening threat!”
“That is enough!” the King yelled over the laughter of those brave enough, or far enough back in the crowd, to let their mirth show.
The young prince was doubled over, slapping his knee, and the duke standing next to him was chuckling, even though he forced himself to do it quietly.
“Guards, seize . . .” the King started, but the old fool shook his motley bells and drowned out his voice.
“Guards, seize the King! He is guilty of making boring threats, and forcing you all to endure the sad, pitiful antics of Pooch Boy.”
“Why, I’ll have you flogged…” the King’s fool started to yell, but he too was talked over by the old fool.
“I’ll have you flogged with cheese, beneath the tower.
And when Pooch Boy farts, we will all smell flowers!”
The King of Fools spun around and launched himself into the air, leaving all eyes staring at the empty table and a colorful blur that took a moment to fade.
The new fool started purposefully toward his king, but stopped and seized his buttocks with a wide-eyed look of surprise spread across this face. The loud, wet sound of flatulence erupted from his behind. His expression worsened when he took another step, and a handful of lily petals fell out of his pant leg, onto the floor.
People were laughing riotously, and even the King had to bite back a laugh when Pooch Boy started hop-stepping, farting loudly with each step, leaving a trail of fragrant petals in his wake.
Everyone’s attention was drawn back to the throne room, when the court announcer tapped his staff on the floor nervously. The old fool, the King of Fools, had taken the royal throne. From there he called out, “By order of the King, Come lick my boots, you silly pooch!”
The king spun around, and started back into the throne room with nothing less than murder on his mind. Behind him, Pooch Boy’s flatulence filled the air with the smell of a spring garden and a trail of colorful petals littered the floor. Behind him, people crowded through the entry to get a better view.
The old fool had served in the throne room for years. He knew every hidden passage, every secret exit to and from the throne room, but even if he had not known how to get away, he probably would have stayed seated where he was. After all, the King of Fools is the King of Fools.
“King Ham-stick, you’re no longer ruler of this kingdom,” the old fool commanded from his seat upon the throne. “You are appointed the position of piss pot. So, find yourself a corner, kneel down, and open wide.”
The guardsmen were smiling broadly, but did not slow their aggressive approach toward the throne. The old fool wasn’t worried though. Right behind him, behind the tapestry where the assassin had stepped out to remove King Rigert’s head, was the passageway he could reach after a back flip over the throne.
“And you, Pooch Boy, let’s freshen it up in here.” The old fool started to sing, “Drop those pants, dance around the room, and shower us with lilies.”
“Get that fool, or I will have all of your heads removed,” the King yelled.
“Hurry!” the new fool shouted. “Tell them King Hamrick, tell them-” he tried to continue, but another burst of flatulence erupted from his behind with such force that it caused him to choke on his words.
Glancing down at his fool standing in a pile of petals, King Hamrick couldn’t help but start laughing again. The old fool screamed down at him, “Hey, King Piss Pot, your people are scared, and hungry! Your Allies want you removed from power.” The old fool had to speak quickly, for the guards were almost on him now. He stayed calm. Escape was only a back flip away. “You’re King Idiot, Your throne was taken over by a single fool, and you make an arse out of yourself each time you open your piss pot to speak!”
“You’ll die slowly, fool!” the king spat. “I swear on my life, that you’ll die before the sun sets this day!”
“You heard him,” the King of Fools said. He pointed at the dragon shaped stain. “He’s marked with a curse, and he swore on his life!” The fool knew that any king who broke his sacred oath was no true king at all. The gods themselves would demand his removal from the throne. If he could stay alive until after the sun sets the king would be an oath breaker.
They all had heard it, and they had heard the King of Fools too. The lunatic in the shimmering motley was surrounded now, and would surely die in moments. As the guards closed in on him, he leapt up into a back flip, clearing them easily. The King’s eyes shot open in disbelief, and the guards’ formation broke into chaos.
The King of Fools landed on his feet. “Your reign is marked for death, Piss Pot. The dragon is coming for you!” he yelled, just as he ducked a guardsman’s hands. He spun and darted for the secret passage. Less than a few steps behind him, two guards were charging. One of them dove to tackle him, missing by a fingers breadth. If the old fool would have breathed a sigh of relief upon reaching the tapestry, if he had time. The guards were right on his heels. He didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t falter. He yelled out one last jab, “A true king puts the people first!” The King of Fools pulled back the tapestry and turned to run full force into a wall of freshly-laid granite blocks. In true jesterly fashion, he went stiff as a board and spun on a single heel. With his eyes rolling up into his head, he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
The new fool was laughing riotously now. King Hamrick, thoroughly disgusted with the smell of fart-tinged lilies, backhanded Pooch Boy to the floor. “Go, find my wizard, and have him plug your arse. I don’t want to see you until your problem is solved.”
*** *** ***
The King of Fools woke with his head pressed tightly to the chopping block. He blinked away the haze that was still threatening to swallow him. His people were watching silently as he fought to keep himself from the blackness. The Kings’ punishments, and killings, had become well attended events as of late. Whether this was due to the frequency of them, or the horrific nature in which the headsman and whip masters went about their duties, it was hard to say. Nevertheless, a grand stage had been erected, with plenty of room for commoners and nobles alike to bear witness to the more macabre of King Hamrick’s decrees.
The old fool tried to wiggle and squirm away, but it wasn’t to be. Not only was his upper body held down by heavily muscled arms, he was bound in leg irons and manacles as well. The people watched him, looking sad and helpless. If he rolled his eyes and craned his neck enough, he could see the King gloating. He was speaking from a platform, only a dozen paces away from the chopping block, and his words were droning on and on and on. The old fool found himself wishing the ax would hurry up and fall already. He couldn’t bear to see the hopelessness on the faces of the people any longer.
I must tru
ly be a fool, he said to himself. I thought I could actually save these people from the monster king, and his pet clown. A fool might get a lot of attention, but it’s a hero who always has to come and save the day.
He wondered why the assassin had abandoned him, and he cursed his foolishness for expecting his aid. He was about to surrender to the misty fog in his mind when he heard a terrified scream from the crowd. He saw several people pointing up at something as they backed away in a panic from the platform where the chopping block was located. All this time, the King’s flat dull voice still droned, echoed by agreements from the new fool, who was standing nearby.
The King of Fools wondered what the people were all looking at. Then a roar resounded, long and loud. It was far too powerful to have come from anything even remotely human. The sound, and the smell of brimstone, filled the air. Then the crowd turned into an unorganized mob of terrified people, trying to flee.
The old fool wished he could see what was blasting such hot air all around him, and suddenly his wish came true. The hands holding him down let go. The fool rolled over and looked up, nearly relieving himself in his fancy trousers. He stared into the huge, gaping maw of a red scaled dragon that blasted a spew of flames across King Hamrick’s path. The King froze in terror and the dragon reached down, and took King Hamrick into his mouth. After a few crunching chomps, the dragon raised its head high, and the tyrant king was chugged down the wyrms gullet.
“I must apologize for my tardiness, Master Fool,” a familiar voice called down from somewhere above. The fool looked up. It was the grinning assassin sitting proudly on the dragon’s back. In one swift, fluid motion, the man leapt to the fool’s side, and pulled his sword.
The old fool watched him blankly, half expecting the assassin’s sword to finish the headsman’s job. The assassin couldn’t help but laugh. “The chain, man,” he managed to say. “You really are a fool. Just because I am an assassin, doesn’t mean I cannot be a hero too. Put your chain on the block.”
As soon as the fool did so, the assassin’s sword separated the iron bindings. In one swift chop, the fool was free.
The Dragon Writers Collection Page 98