Sebastian Darke: Prince of Fools

by Philip Caveney

  'Uncle, it wasn't your fault,' said Princess Kerin.

  'Well, no, obviously!' snapped King Septimus. Then he laughed – rather nervously, Sebastian thought. 'Er . . . but that doesn't make me feel any better about the situation.' He did a double take and glanced back towards the few soldiers who had escorted the princess back into the city. 'Where is your Royal Guard?' he asked.

  'All dead, sire,' said Cornelius. 'They died bravely to the last man, fighting to defend the princess.'

  The king glared down at Cornelius, as though astounded that he had dared to speak without permission. 'Dead?' he cried.

  'Yes, sire, they were badly outnumbered.'

  'But . . . I sent a detachment of twenty men with her.'

  'Many of them were unable to accompany us back,' explained Princess Kerin. 'We had but six with us, because—'

  '– they were all taken ill,' said Septimus. T know.'

  The princess looked puzzled. 'How did you know?' she asked.

  'Hmm?' He gazed at her blankly for a moment. 'Well, because I am the king, it's my business to know.' He seemed to consider for a moment. 'That messenger from Captain Tench, he told me.'

  'Really? I didn't realize he had that information.'

  'Well, of course he did! He told me everything – the Brigands, the lupers . . . all in all it's a miracle you survived.'

  Princess Kerin nodded. 'I wouldn't have,' she assured him, 'if it hadn't been for my two champions.'

  'Ah yes, now I'm really looking forward to meeting them!' said King Septimus. 'Where are they?'

  Princess Kerin stared at him. 'Why, they're right there in front of you,' she said.

  King Septimus looked down at Sebastian and Cornelius and looked away again, as if expecting to see somebody else. But there was nobody else. 'These two?' he said in disbelief. 'These are your champions?'

  'Actually, there's three of us,' said Max. 'I helped too!'

  The king's eyes bulged in astonishment. He pointed at Max. 'It spoke!' he said. 'That great hairy brute just spoke!'

  Princess Kerin smiled. 'Yes, I'm sorry – of course I should have said three champions, not two. So, Uncle . . . may I introduce to you . . . Sebastian Darke, from the town of Jerabim . . .'

  Sebastian stood up and made a bow.

  'Captain Cornelius Drummel from the great northern city of Golmira . . .'

  Cornelius did likewise.

  'And, er . . . Max, the talking buffalope, also from Jerabim.'

  King Septimus seemed to be having trouble accepting what he had just been told. 'And these . . . people are the mighty warriors – the ones who fought off an army of Brigands . . . and a pack of lupers?'

  'The very same,' Princess Kerin assured him. 'If it were not for them, I would almost certainly be dead by now.'

  'Dead,' murmured King Septimus. There was a strangely unsettling tone in the way he said it, Sebastian thought. He sounded almost wistful. Then he seemed to recover himself. 'Well then, it would seem that I am in the debt of these, er . . . gentlemen.' He approached them. 'You must tell me, good sirs, how best I may reward you.'

  There was a brief silence. Then Sebastian spoke.

  'Your majesty . . . my intention in coming to Keladon was to seek employment as a jester to your court.'

  'A jester?' King Septimus looked uncertain. 'It's some time since we had one of those,' he murmured. 'I'm not sure that I . . .'

  'He's a very good one,' said Princess Kerin. 'In fact, on our journey here, Mr Darke has kept me entertained with many excellent jokes and stories and I can vouch for the fact that he is quite hilarious.'

  King Septimus considered for a moment. Then he smiled. 'If he is to your taste, Princess, then he is to mine also. Of course I shall employ him! Shall we say . . . three golden crowns a month?'

  Sebastian almost shouted with delight. This was more money than he had ever dreamed of. But Princess Kerin hadn't finished yet.

  'Uncle, I think a man of his experience is worth five crowns,' she said. 'That's certainly what he was used to receiving in the royal court of Jerabim.'

  Sebastian stared at her. He had never been anywhere near the court of Jerabim and she knew it. But she had said it with such absolute conviction, nobody would have suspected the invention for a moment.

  'Well, then we must go one better!' announced Septimus. 'We'll call it six crowns. And of course you will receive board and lodging here at the palace. Well, what do you say, Mr Darke? Do we have an agreement?'

  'We certainly do, your majesty.' Sebastian tried and failed to wipe the grin off his face. He looked down at Cornelius, who was smiling up at him, as if to say, 'See, I said you could do it!'

  'And we will sample your talents after Princess Kerin's birthday feast tonight,' added King Septimus, which got rid of the grin in an instant. The king turned his attention to Cornelius. 'Now, little man, what can I do for you?' he asked.

  Cornelius bowed again. 'Your majesty, I came to Keladon with but one purpose in mind. To join the Crimson Cloak.'

  King Septimus stared at Cornelius for a moment. Then he laughed. 'The Crimson Cloak!' he said. 'You? Forgive me, Captain, but . . . you are such a little fellow, I hardly think the position would suit you.'

  'On the contrary, your majesty, I believe it would suit me down to the ground. I only ask an opportunity to prove my worth to you.'

  King Septimus smiled, but there was no real mirth in his eyes. Sebastian, who now had every excuse in the world to like the man, still found that something in the king's demeanour troubled him.

  'Well, Captain Drummel, I must tell you that any man in the land is free to apply for a position in the Crimson Cloak. And to gain entry, he has only to achieve one thing. He must first beat my champion in unarmed combat.'

  Cornelius rubbed his hands together. 'I would be more than happy to undertake such a contest,' he said.

  King Septimus looked decidedly smug. 'Perhaps you should wait until you've actually seen my champion,' he said. He lifted a hand and clicked his fingers. 'Send out Klart,' he shouted. There was a long pause and they could dimly hear a series of people shouting out the name somewhere in the depths of the palace.

  'Klart is a native of the island of Mavelia,' said the king, inspecting the perfectly manicured fingernails of one hand. 'I don't suppose either of you have visited it?'

  Sebastian and Cornelius shook their heads.

  The king smiled sweetly. 'Let's just say that they are a . . . rugged people,' he said. 'And I will quite understand if you wish to reconsider facing him in a fight.'

  After what seemed an age, a figure came shambling out from the open doorway of the palace. Sebastian took a sharp breath. The man was so big, he had to stoop to avoid bashing his shaggy head against the arch of stone above him. He was a veritable giant, a. great big muscular brute, with dirty shoulder-length red hair and a wild beard. He was dressed in what looked like the furry hide of a buffalope, and as he came striding forward across the courtyard, the ground seemed to shake under the impact of his heavily booted feet. He raised his mighty arms to wave to the crowd and they cheered him gleefully. Obviously this was not the first time they had seen him fight.

  'Cornelius, this is ridiculous!' said Sebastian. 'You can't fight him, he's as big as a house.'

  The little warrior shrugged and cracked his knuckles together. 'There's a very old saying around Golmira,' he said. 'One that I have lived by for years. "The bigger they come, the harder they fall."'

  King Septimus chuckled at that. 'Bravely spoken, little man!' he said. 'Well then, if you're intent on doing this, step up here and try your luck. But I can take no responsibility for the outcome. Klart tends to play rough.'

  'So do I,' said Cornelius quietly. He unbuckled his sword and knife and dropped them to the ground. Then he climbed the steps to the courtyard. The king gestured to the others present and they all moved back to give the two warriors space to fight.

  CHAPTER 14

  MAKING THE GRADE

  'Now,' said the king,
'let's have a good clean fight, boys. No biting, no gouging – and, Klart, this time, absolutely no eating your opponent.' He stepped back to give them more room.

  The two men stared at each other in silence for a few moments and then began to circle, both of them crouched in fighting stances. Sebastian didn't know what to think. With his own eyes he had seen Cornelius defeat powerful foes, but Klart was so big and so strong, it seemed an impossible contest.

  It was Klart who made the first move, swinging down with a right fist, but Cornelius simply dodged the blow and danced back again. He resumed his fighter's stance and went back to his circling. The crowd cheered appreciatively. Klart tried several more times to hit his little opponent but to no

  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.