A Buffalope's Tale

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A Buffalope's Tale Page 12

by Philip Caveney


  I tried making conversation with Sensimo’s skinny black equine, Roger, but even in the common language of the plains, he was no great shakes and had little of interest to say for himself.

  The place where we had been left was absolutely packed with carriages and wagons of all shapes and sizes and was bordered by a long, tall hedgerow. For some inexplicable reason, Alexander had tethered me to a hitching post in front of the hedge. Perhaps he thought that I would get bored and attempt to make my way home, and I have to say that, after only a short while of trying to coax some conversation out of Roger, I might well have considered it.

  I decided to make the best of things and grab some shuteye. We buffalopes are adept at sleeping standing up. I don’t know how long I slumbered, but I was just having a lovely dream about eating my way through a huge orchard full of pommers, when I was somewhat surprised to be woken by the sound of a carriage pulling to a halt on the other side of the hedge. Then I heard the sound of a door creaking open.

  ‘Your Highness,’ said a deep, gruff voice, speaking in a hushed tone. ‘I came just as soon as I received your message. This is my friend, Viktor, who is also your most loyal subject. Like me, he eagerly awaits the day when you ascend the throne.’

  The voice that answered was that of a child. I had never heard Daniel the Doleful speak, but the voice was slow and mournful and the conversation had left some pretty big clues as to who had just arrived.

  ‘Mark you, gentlemen, the tavern before you,’ whispered Daniel in a cold and malevolent tone that quite belied his tender years. ‘A popular drinking establishment, with which I am sure you are familiar. In there, an enemy of mine sits drinking. An insolent cur of a jester who dares to make mock of your future King.’

  There was a brief pause and then a second man’s voice said:

  ‘Impudent swine. You wish us to teach him a lesson, sire?’

  ‘More than that,’ said the child’s voice and I was shocked by the hatred in it. ‘I wish you to end his miserable life.’

  There were gasps of surprise from the two men.

  ‘But sire, is it not the case that this man is a great favourite of your father?’

  ‘What of it?’

  ‘Well, if he were to discover that we were responsible for killing him, it would go badly with us.’

  ‘My father shall not know. This will be our secret. You shall take the jester in the darkness when he returns to his caravan. You shall mask your faces and you will slay him quickly and cleanly, then flee before anybody discovers his body. Do this for me and this shall be yours.’

  I heard the clink of a money purse and there was a pause while one of the men weighed it in his hands.

  ‘A goodly sum, sire,’ said the first man. ‘But, with respect, not worth forfeiting our lives should anything go wrong.’

  ‘This is only an initial payment,’ continued Daniel. ‘When I ascend to the throne, I will be ready to reward those who have been of special service to me. Land and property will be mine to dispense and those who have pleased me will be top of the list. I have two splendid estates in mind for you.’

  Another pause, then the first man spoke.

  ‘Then I think we have an understanding, sire.’

  ‘Good. I must go now, before I am recognised. Wait till the jester is drunk. I am told he is over-fond of his ale and he will surely put up no resistance. You will know him by his brightly coloured costume.’

  ‘It shall be done, Sire,’ said the second man. ‘Trust in us.’

  ‘One other thing. The jester ’s caravan is pulled by a great stinking brute of a buffalope, one that talks rather too well for my liking. Let’s send him to the same place as his master, just in case he should happen to witness the killing.’

  ‘As you command, Sire,’ said the two men together.

  Then there was the sound of the carriage door closing, the lash of a whip and the carriage moving away. I stood there, fighting the urge to run.

  ‘I wouldn’t like to incur the wrath of that one,’ I heard the first man say. ‘He may be only a youngster, but he’s chock full of venom.’

  I heard the sound of a dagger sliding out of its sheath.

  ‘Shall we find the buffalope and do him first?’

  I swallowed nervously.

  ‘No, let’s wait till the jester makes his way back to his caravan. Then we can take them both together and be out of here before anybody knows what’s happened. Come, we’ll position ourselves so we can see the entrance of the tavern.’

  Footsteps crunched away across the grass.

  I stood there, fighting against a rising sense of panic. I had to warn my master! But there I was, tethered by the reins to a post and there was no way I would be able to untie the knot. I inched closer and tried chewing the thick leather reins.

  ‘Oh come on,’ said Roger, ‘you can’t be that hungry!’

  I ignored him. He spoke no human and clearly hadn’t understood any of the conversation that I had just overheard. I didn’t seem to be making much impression on the reins so, impatient to be free, I hunched my shoulders and began to move backwards, pulling on them as hard as I could.

  Roger gave me an affronted look.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked me.

  ‘What does it look like?’ I snapped. ‘I’m trying to get free, obviously.’

  The leather reins were stretched to their fullest but they refused to snap. The wooden rail began to creak under the pressure.

  ‘Stop that!’ said Roger. ‘You’ll damage the rail and then I might get into trouble.’

  ‘You think you’re in trouble,’ I told him. ‘Believe me, you don’t know the meaning of the word.’

  I continued to exert a slow, powerful pressure, putting all my strength into it and finally, with a loud crack, the wooden rail snapped in the middle and the reins came free. Unfortunately, a section of rail swung up and rapped Roger on the snout.

  ‘Oh, that’s lovely, that is!’ he snickered. ‘I hope you’re pleased with yourself.’

  ‘Roger, do belt up!’ I advised him.

  Now I was trying to manoeuvre myself backwards so I could get the caravan out from the vehicles that flanked me. The caravan swung to one side and bashed into Sensimo’s wagon.

  ‘Now what are you doing?’ complained Roger.

  ‘My exercises,’ I told him. ’I’m trying to lose weight, aren’t I? This is called the caravan workout. Now please shut up and let me concentrate. Ah . . .’

  At last, I had backed out far enough to make a turn and head towards the tavern.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ shrieked Roger. ‘You can’t go to the tavern; you’re a beast of burden.’

  ‘I’ll go wherever I please,’ I told him. ‘And stop making so much noise; you’ll attract attention.’

  ‘Huh! Not as much as you will,’ was his final remark. ‘A buffalope going into a tavern? Who ever heard of such a thing?’

  I couldn’t worry about that now. I had other things on my mind.

  Chapter 23

  A Close Shave

  I moved cautiously towards the tavern, trying not to trip over the reins, which were trailing on the ground beneath me. I reminded myself that the killers had said they would position themselves where they could watch the entrance. With this in mind, I veered to my right, across a stretch of grass, noticing as I did so that there was a window at the far end of the building and that the thick wooden shutters were open.

  I made my way towards it, aware that the heavy metal-rimmed wheels were churning deep tracks into the soft ground. I made it to the window, from which the sound of music, laughter and the strong smell of ale spilled. My view was somewhat obscured by a young couple who were standing in the window, kissing and hugging each other in a most improper fashion. I stood there politely for a moment and then, growing impatient, I cleared my throat.

  They jolted apart as though I had kicked them and stood there staring at me, their mouths open.

  ‘Excuse me,’
I said. ‘Sorry to interrupt and all that, but would you mind shifting out of the way? I’m looking for somebody.’

  They did as I asked, still staring at me as though they couldn’t quite believe their eyes. I stuck my head in through the open window and peered at the press of bodies in the smoke-filled interior but I didn’t see Alexander ’s distinctive costume anywhere.

  ‘I was looking for Alexander Darke, the jester,’ I told the couple.

  The young man nodded and pointed to his right.

  ‘Oh I . . . I think he’s in the snug at the back,’ he muttered.

  ‘Right, thank you. Here, do me a favour will you? Pick up these reins and drape them over my back. I’m in danger of falling over them.’

  The young man leaned out of the window and did as I asked, while the woman watched him entranced, as though he was performing a magic trick.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, when he had finished. ‘Sorry to interrupt. Please carry on with what you were doing.’

  I walked on to the end of the long building and peered around the corner. Luckily there was another window back there and, once again, it was open. I trundled my way along to that and peered in. Sure enough, there sat Alexander and Sensimo at a table piled high with empty tankards, chortling away at some joke and clearly already well on their way to total inebriation.

  ‘Master!’ I hissed. ‘Master!’

  Alexander lifted his head and glared at me.

  ‘What do you want?’ he growled.

  ‘I just wanted to tell you that . . .’

  ‘Clear off, will you? I’ll come out when I’m good and ready.’

  He looked at Sensimo, as though seeking back-up.

  ‘I mean to say, a chap can’t even enjoy a couple of ales without some wet-nurse of a buffalope pestering him.’

  ‘Master,’ I said, ‘you don’t understand. There are people out here who . . .’

  ‘Where I come from,’ slurred Sensimo, ‘buffalopes know their place. You wouldn’t find one sticking his head through the window and giving orders.’

  ‘I’m not giving orders!’ I cried. ‘I’m just trying to warn my master . . .’

  ‘Yes, yes!’ cried Alexander. ‘Mistress Sarah will be worried about me. Well, I’m sick of hearing about it. I’ve already sent a messenger to warn her; what more d’you want? Blood?’

  And with that, he got up from the table and staggered towards the window.

  ‘Master,’ I said. ‘I only want to tell you . . .’

  And then he slammed the wooden shutters of the window in my face. I stood there, staring at them in disbelief. The ingratitude of the man! For a moment, I fully intended to head for home and leave him to his fate but, after a few moments’ reflection, I realised that I couldn’t do that. No, I would have to think of something and the only idea that came to me was the thought of causing some kind of diversion.

  I looked quickly around and noticed an oil lantern hanging from a hook on a wall not far from the shuttered window. On the ground, a short distance away from it there was a large stack of kindling and some empty ale barrels. I looked from the lantern to the stack, gauging the probability of getting the aim right. It didn’t seem too difficult. I approached the lantern and lifted my head carefully until the tip of a horn fit through the hook from which the lantern was hanging. Then I gave my head a quick, hard flick to the right.

  The lantern came off its hook and performed a slow, lazy arc through the air. Then it crashed down onto the pile of wood, flinging its contents all over the stack. There was a sudden ‘whump’ as the flames ignited and almost instantly a great cloud of smoke drifted up against the wall of the tavern.

  I swung around to my left and ran back to the other window, where I saw that the young couple had resumed their frantic canoodling. Not waiting for them to move, I shoved my head past them and bellowed ‘FIRE!’ as loud as I could. The noise of it made the young couple drop to the floor in total shock and, looking past them, I could see a sudden wave of panic passing through the drinkers within, as clouds of smoke came drifting from the direction of the snug. There was a general commotion as people threw down their tankards and flagons and headed for the door.

  There was no time to waste! I pulled my head back out of the window and galloped on along the wall, heading now for the main entrance, the caravan bucking and shuddering behind me. As I got to the front of the building, I saw a frantic press of people already spilling out of the open doors and, off to one side, two villainous-looking men, daggers drawn, inspecting each person as they went by. As I drew closer still, I saw Alexander and Sensimo amidst the crowd, clearly confused and the worse for wear with drink.

  The taller of the two assassins spotted Alexander ’s multi-coloured costume and, grabbing his companion by the arm, he pointed. They began to move forward.

  Now I had a problem. The crowd was moving between me and the killers and there was every chance that they would get to my master before I could. For a moment, I was about to check my speed, but then I realised that I just couldn’t do that, so I opened my mouth and I bellowed as loud as I could.

  ‘Get out of the way!’ I roared.

  Happily, the column of people reacted, parting in front of me like waves on either side of a rock, leaping out of the way as I thundered towards them. Alexander and Sensimo stood there, staring at me as though I had lost my mind and, for a terrible moment, it seemed as though I would trample them into the ground. But then Alexander must have noticed the two sinisterlooking men moving towards him and he grabbed Sensimo’s arm and the two of them stepped back out of harm’s way.

  I missed the two of them by a hair ’s breadth and raced past, with the assassins firmly in my sights. I saw the look of horror they gave me, the way the colour drained abruptly from their faces, and then I lowered my horns and ploughed into them. At the last instant, I lifted my head and the two men went flailing up into the air like a pair of rag dolls, slamming onto the roof of the caravan and bouncing off again. I didn’t wait around but turned the caravan in as tight a circle as I could manage and headed back towards the tavern, slowing my pace as I did so.

  Alexander was standing there, staring stupidly at the two moaning shapes I had left heaped in the grass.

  ‘Get on,’ I told him.

  ‘But . . .’ he began.

  ‘Hurry!’ I said. ‘Those men are assassins, paid to kill you!’

  He didn’t say anything to that, just clambered unsteadily up to his seat and grabbed the reins.

  Sensimo stood there staring up at him.

  ‘You’re not leaving already, are you?’ he slurred.

  ‘Yes, he ruddy well is!’ I snapped and took off as fast as my legs would carry me.

  ‘But . . . it was his round!’ I heard Sensimo yell.

  ‘I expect you’ll survive,’ I called back.

  Then I was heading out onto the road beyond the tavern and going like the clappers in the direction of home.

  Once we were out on the open plain, I finally felt safe enough to slow down to a walk. Alexander was showing all the signs of falling into a drunken stupor but I wasn’t going to let him get away that lightly. ‘You can’t go on like this,’ I told him.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he said indignantly. ‘Go on

  like what?’

  ‘You know perfectly well. There were two men back

  there who had every intention of gutting you like a

  fish. Me too, for that matter.’

  ‘Oh, I could have handled them,’ said Alexander,

  trying to sound casual. ‘I’d just have pulled out my

  trusty sword and given them the old one-two!’ ‘Don’t make me laugh,’ I said. ‘The old one-two? I

  doubt that you could count that high in your condition. You can barely stand!’

  ‘I can handle my drink,’ he said defensively. There was a long pause and then he said, sheepishly, ‘But thanks for your help.’

  He thought for a moment.

  ‘Who were they, anyway?’r />
  ‘Two villains hired by Daniel the Doleful,’ I said. ‘I

  overheard him giving them instructions; a good job,

  too, otherwise you’d have had no chance. Clearly he

  took exception to the remarks you made about him at

  the performance today.’

  ‘What? Those little jokes about him being miserable

  and ugly? Bit of an over-reaction, isn’t it?’

  ‘Master, if you’d had your full wits about you, you’d

  never have gone down that road in the first place. I mean, criticising the son of the King! It’s a good job His Majesty saw the funny side of it. He could have had you thrown in the dungeons. It’s a side-effect of

  the drink; it’s affecting your judgement.’

  ‘Nonsense! I have it under control, I tell you.’ Another silence, while he brooded on what I had

  told him.

  ‘Well, clearly I’ll have to have a quiet word with

  King Cletus about this.’

  ‘You’ll do nothing of the sort!’ I said.

  ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘Master, do you know of any man who would take

  the word of an entertainer over that of his son? You

  go marching in there, making accusations, and you

  can say goodbye to your Royal Performances, once

  and for all.’

  ‘You really think so?’

  ‘I’m sure of it.’

  ‘But what’s to say the kid won’t try something like

  this again?’

  ‘Nothing, Master. But forewarned is forearmed.

  We’ll just need to have our wits about us and keep an

 

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