by Scott Monk
Captain Cavalli smiled and raised his glass. ‘A cold remark, sir. Dare I say as cold as the flagstones of my dungeon.’
She flushed as more guests laughed. She gripped the handle of her sword until a single voice brought the room under control.
‘Captain – enough.’
Queen Oriana dabbed the corner of her mouth then gently folded her silk napkin before speaking again. ‘Pacifico is a harbour of peace. All people of good grace shall be shown respect – especially those invited to my table.’
Captain Cavalli half-stood and bowed. ‘My apologies, Your Majesty. And to you, Captain Sam. I beg forgiveness for my loose tongue. I was merely sporting for quips.’
He sat down again but Samantha fumed.
Queen Oriana nodded then addressed Samantha herself. ‘Excuse our curiosity, sir, but – how shall we say it? – you are an oddity in this court. It surprises us greatly to find a pirate – indeed a Black Cobra pirate no less – travelling in the esteemed company of the Gold Knight himself.’
‘Y’know,’ she began, using the shoulders of the lord and lady beside her to push up from her seat. ‘I got sick of plundering the other six Worlds of Wonder, so I told my liege there: “Let’s head over to good old Pacifico and stay a month or two. The noblemen stink a bit and the women are catty, but at least they’re rich. Let’s rob a few.”’
She walked behind the other guests and squeezed the cheeks of a lady with too many necklaces, leaving them gasping.
‘Sam!’ Luke barked, while Michael hung his head.
Queen Oriana remained calm, though, and waited for the murmurs to fade. Then, with dignity, she clapped her hands and said with a nod, ‘Good show, sir. Your humour, whilst dry, is much appreciated. Your goal is complete, for you have merrily plundered my table tonight.’
Laughter rolled throughout the state room and broke the tension. Hot-faced, Samantha felt foolish but unsure why.
‘What she means is –’
‘No offence taken, Sir Michael,’ Queen Oriana said. ‘The ways of your companions are not necessarily the ways of this court. We understand that for civilisation to continue, not everyone has to be civilised.’
‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’ He breathed deeply as they exchanged smiles. For someone their age, she sounded so wise, so grown-up.
Feeling full, Michael was astonished when the servants returned to the state room in teams of twenty, shouldering enormous platters. He paled when Pasquale leant sideways and said enthusiastically, ‘Ah, the main course.’ The bell rang again and the lids were removed to reveal five-metre long black marlins, each weighing close to seven hundred kilograms. The closest one’s dead eyes stared at him over its sword-like bill, and he feared he’d be forced to eat it. But that was just the beginning. Around them were placed more dishes, which, when uncovered, turned the triplets grey. Pickled, salted or grilled were some of the nastiest and vilest nightmares ever cooked. There were helpings of fangtooth; obese dragonfish; slimy, pink, gelatinous blindfish; humpback blackdevils; elongated large-tooth conger eels with needle jaws; megamouth sharks with bloated cheeks; common redmouth whalefish that resembled cows’ hearts; and eastern frogfish with big lips and beards – as well as more ‘normal’ pufferfish, sea urchins and sea cucumbers. All three Bowman children felt their guts churn when Pasquale selected a fathead. Like its name, it looked like a bald, waxy face with beady black eyes and a bulbous nose. When he readied to carve it open, Michael excused himself and rushed down to the gardens for air, where he hid until Luke fetched him, assuring him the tables had been cleared.
Dessert was more to the triplets’ liking. Luke scooped chocolate torte onto his plate; Samantha chose peppermint gelati; while Michael added colour to his complexion with a warm slice of blueberry pie. Other guests joked they couldn’t eat anything more but still gobbled through two plates’ worth.
‘Forgive us for prying again, Sir Michael,’ Queen Oriana continued, ‘but what business brings you and your companions to our world?’
He shifted in his chair. He knew this question was coming. ‘We’re trying to find our way home. We opened a door to your world that maybe we shouldn’t have.’
‘A door?’
‘Y’know, the one in the mountains guarded by the monster,’ Luke said. ‘The carnivorous monster that shrieks.’
‘Monster?’ the guests repeated. Prime Minister Pasquale snorted out his coffee; the servants paused from their duties; and the spectacle-wearing nobleman named Guido looked at Michael, confused.
‘You’ve seen the monster and lived?’ a lord pushed.
‘Seen it? It nearly killed us!’
Again, the room whirled with chatter.
‘Preposterous!’ Captain Cavalli laughed. ‘I’ve sailed the Western Seas twice and never encountered this monster. It’s just make-believe.’
‘Some fairy story – if the fairy happens to be twenty metres tall!’
‘It’s twenty metres tall?’ a young lady asked, horrified.
‘We don’t know that,’ Michael said. ‘We never saw it but –’
‘It’s invisible?’ another lord called out.
‘If we cannot see it, how can we fight it?’ a third implored.
Fear spread among the tables until the Queen stood to talk over the noise. ‘Nobles! Nobles! Please, a word. There is no need for panic. If this news is indeed true, then Captain Cavalli and his marines will investigate it in due course. While I do not question the Gold Knight’s word, we must have first-hand proof before descending into chaos. Our city is well protected, as you well know. The whirlpool to the west stops any creature taking to the seas, and all shipping to the Broken Isles is forbidden until our fishing fleet’s safety can be guaranteed.’
She indicated for the string quartet to strike up a song when, inexplicably, the electric lights flickered. The room blinked into darkness and a platter crashed to the ground.
‘Your Majesty!’ Captain Cavalli shouted.
12
Thunder cracked inside the darkened state room as lightning silhouetted a tall, strangely dressed man. He wore a black three-cornered hat trimmed with gold, black pants, well-heeled boots, leather gloves, a white shirt with excessively lacy cuffs, a golden vest, and a black and red cloak clasped with a pin in the shape of a puffed-up rooster. His most distinguishing feature, though, was his mask: vivid blue eyes commanded respect above a perfectly cast nose, boyish cheeks and a permanently pursed mouth. It too was gold.
Striding towards the guests, he stepped fluidly on a chair then the tabletop, knocking over silverware and crystal glasses as he made his way to its middle. He paused and banged his ebony walking cane three times.
KRA-KOOM!
Thunder boomed. Lightning flashed. Then he was gone. In his place hunched another man, this one wearing a beaked mask and a coat of coloured feathers.
Michael stood, ready to flee, when the strangest thing happened – the nobles applauded. Prime Minister Pasquale gently pulled him back into his seat and saw Queen Oriana wave Captain Cavalli into doing the same. ‘Enjoy the show, my boy,’ Pasquale whispered.
‘Wark! Wark! Wark!’ the Vulture said, as he flapped his colourful feathered arms under a moving spotlight. ‘Your Majesty, lords and ladies, nobles of the Ninety Islands and honoured guests, welcome to the entertainment part of the evening. For those who shamefully have not seen us perform around the city, we are the universally loved Harlequins – a troupe of actors, musicians, circus performers and –’
‘Fools!’ Pasquale shouted.
‘Ah, it takes one to know one, Prime Minister.’
The guests laughed, including Pasquale himself.
The Vulture backflipped to the adjacent table and scattered more dessert bowls and glasses. ‘At the Queen’s request, we are here tonight to perform any story of your choosing – whether it be about star-crossed lovers, a war between kings, or an ugly duckling that turns into … well, somebody’s ugly dinner. So what shall it be, my young lords and ladies?’
‘No, the war between kings!’ a boy said.
‘How about the fable of the frog and the wolf,’ a third added.
Supporters for all three stories raised their voices, hoping to win over the others. Queen Oriana settled the argument, though. She said, ‘Considering the presence of our most-honoured guests this evening, I think it’s appropriate we hear the story of the Gold Knight himself.’
‘Bravo!’ Pasquale said, before the nobles applauded as well.
‘A fine choice indeed, Your Majesty,’ the Vulture said, bowing. ‘Then let’s not waste any more time. Citizens of Pacifico, let me introduce the Gold Knight!’
Michael felt his heart leap as the spotlight raced from the Vulture across the room towards him. Now they wanted him to act as well! But instead, all eyes fell on a barefoot boy lurching through the doorway wearing short pants and carting water buckets across his shoulders. A dirt-stained mask covered his face. Two older harlequins followed him, dressed just as haggardly, coughing into their hands.
‘Once upon a time,’ the Vulture began, ‘there lived a poacher’s son, who, like his parents, only owned the dirt on his feet. One winter, just as the first snow covered the lands, his parents fell ill and were left bedridden.’
The two older harlequins dropped to the floor.
‘Unable to find work at the mill, or even the piggery, the boy feared his family would starve to death if he couldn’t find food. So he grabbed his bow and headed to the Duke’s woods where his father had expressly forbidden him to tread, despite poaching from there many a time himself.
‘The boy was a keen shot and caught two snow hares, which he strung by the feet to carry home. He’d reached the top of a hill when, only a few metres away, a pair of big, black eyes stared at him. It was the mighty She-Bear!’
‘Roooaaarrr!’ A female harlequin sporting a bear mask and brown fur coat clawed the edges of the hall, hugging nobles and drawing laughter.
‘The boy froze. He wanted to aim his bow like a mighty warrior, but he couldn’t move. He’d lost his nerve at the sight of her. However, as he waited for death, the shadows of the afternoon grew longer. No powerful jaws snapped his bony body in half. No terrible claws knifed his belly.
‘Slowly, as he opened one eye then the other, he saw the snarling She-Bear still hunched among the trees, staring at him. He didn’t understand why until he saw blood on the snow. Her leg – it was caught in a trap.’
The female harlequin fell to the ground and pulled a flowing red scarf from her ankle.
‘The boy realised this was his chance to kill her. The meat would feed his family for a week, and her beautiful coat would fetch a heavy bag of gold. With a steady hand, he nocked an arrow and aimed. At the last moment, though, he felt something small bump against his legs. To his astonishment, he looked down and saw three bear cubs.’
A trio of harlequins appeared and circled the actor in short pants.
‘Now this young boy was born with what all children have – a big heart. He lowered his bow upon learning that the She-Bear was a mother. Against his better judgement, he realised he had to free her. He laid his weapons on the ground and approached. She grew in size as he got near. The hairs on her neck bristled and all her muscles rippled as she prepared to pounce. Just as the boy reached for the trapper’s snare, she lashed out! Claws and teeth grabbed for his neck! Fortunately, he had big feet and tripped backwards in fright. He ran away and hid at the bottom of that very same hill.
‘Twilight soon arrived and he realised he must return home before dark, so he fetched his bow and arrows, while keeping a safe distance from the She-Bear, who lay helpless and slowly bleeding to death. Before he left, however, he heard the cubs moaning with hunger. If they didn’t eat that evening, they too would slowly die. Again, overwhelmed by pity, he felt he needed to help. He pulled a small knife from his belt, cut up a snow hare and threw the meat among them. He then left for his village, doubting they’d survive on their own.’
A male harlequin in a sun mask swapped sides with a female moon-face.
‘Now, just as children have big hearts, they have equal amounts of curiosity, which leads them into trouble more times than not. Rather than stay far away from the Duke’s woods, the boy returned the next day to learn the She-Bear’s fate. He was surprised to find her alive – still weak but undiscovered by the Duke’s trapper. The cubs ran out to greet him again only to be brought back by another of her roars. A little braver that morning, the boy hunted deeper in the woods and dragged back the carcass of a young boar he’d slain. He cut up its meat and threw it to the four of them, while leaving with another pair of hares on his back.
‘He visited them on the third day as well. This time he brought with him berries and a healing salve, which he’d begged from the monastery. When he found the She-Bear, though, her breathing was shallow and her eyes were fading. She had lost a lot of blood and a heavy snow was settling in. He had to free her if she was going to live another night.
‘Drawing on more courage than a skinny boy can possibly possess, he approached her again. The nearer he got, the deeper her growling became. Just as he reached for her leg, she lunged! She knocked him off his feet and stood ready to kill him.
‘Smelling her horrible breath, he knew he was doomed. But he was saved by the three bear cubs, who rushed from the trees to lick his face. The boy laughed at the silliness of it, and this seemed to lighten their mother’s mood. She realised he meant no harm and collapsed next to him, dying.
‘He knelt down beside her and inspected her leg. The wound was deep. The trap had sunk to the bone and almost bled her dry. Having hand-raised many pet animals himself and lost plenty to wolves, he knew he could save her, but it was unlikely. He prised its metal jaws apart with all his strength until –
‘Roooaaarrr!’
‘– the She-Bear was free!’
The young actor in short pants stitched up the wound and applied the healing salve, before helping the bear harlequin to stand on all fours. Finally, when she did, the cubs jumped and cartwheeled.
‘She was saved! But there would be no friendship between them. Bears were created to be fierce, and fierce they shall always be. The She-Bear left with her cubs for the northlands, warning the boy to stay away with one last roar.’
The spotlight faded. ‘Now, this story would have been lost among the snowdrift if not for two more sets of eyes. The trapper and his daughter had heard the She-Bear’s wounded howls and ridden through the woods to kill the mighty creature. To their surprise, they found the boy mending her injured leg and playing with her cubs. “What courage is this?” they asked. “Why does she not strike him down?” They remained hidden until both boy and bears had parted company, then rushed back to the castle to tell the Duke.’
The spotlight focussed on the fireplace, where two actors spoke to the black harlequin. They re-enacted the She-Bear story in triple-speed, drawing more laughter.
‘The Duke was furious. Just as he did not want bears in his woods, he did not want poachers. He ordered the sheriff to arrest the boy and his family, and bring them before him for trial.
‘Fearing for their lives, the boy’s parents begged the Duke for mercy – if not for themselves, then for their son. But the Duke would not listen. He ordered them to be thrown in prison and set a date for their execution. The trapper’s daughter tried intervening, saying she had never seen such bravery, even among the Duke’s own men. He said the law was the law, and that if the poacher’s family did not understand it then they would understand the executioner’s axe. But the daughter persisted, having been a friend of the Duke’s since childhood. Her pleading softened his heart, and eventually he offered a pardon on one condition: if the poacher’s son could control bears then he had to show proof within a month from his jail cell. If not, then he and his family would lose their heads.’
The sun and moon harlequins locked arms and dance
d in a circle.
‘A month later, as forewarned, the Duke passed through the village where the poacher’s family was imprisoned. He found them shivering in their cell, as dirty and poor as the last time he’d seen them. “Fetch the executioner!” he told the sheriff. “This young thief cannot tame the fiercest of animals, just as I cannot tame thunder.” But as he turned outside, the Duke was forced to swallow his words. There, in front of him on the jail’s steps, was the most astonishing sight.
‘The sheriff couldn’t explain it. Nor the executioner. He even called for the friar, who also confessed ignorance. So the Duke immediately released the poacher’s family and granted them a pardon upon swearing an oath that none would steal from another man’s land again.
‘“But your lordship,” the poacher’s wife asked, “why have you given back our freedom this day?”
‘The Duke led them to the front steps then said, “Just as this boy of yours has shown mercy, so mercy has been shown to him in kind.”’
The harlequins froze as the spotlight switched to the Vulture. ‘Now I know what you’re thinking: what did the Duke find on the front steps of his jail? Well, after years of searching and many a worn sole, I finally found the faintest clue in the smallest village on the outskirts of the furthest lands on the most distant of worlds. The good folk there pointed me to a crooked road that passed the local piggery, each saying the same thing: “Come back in winter, mister, if you dare. Stop outside the old poacher’s hut, and at his front door you’ll find your answer.”
‘And so I did that very next winter. Amid the thick, white snow, I fought my way to the old poacher’s hut, afraid I’d freeze to death before I called upon his hospitality. Incredibly, as I closed the gate, I saw the exact sight that had changed the Duke’s cruel heart: a freshly-killed snow hare and a young boar – both showing the teeth marks of – what else? – but an enormous She-Bear.’
The spotlight faded and the Vulture bowed. The room languished in silence until, as one, the audience rose and cheered, ‘Bravo! Bravo!’