Cornelius found a gangplank and set it against the side of the boat. He and Sebastian walked up onto the deck, closely followed by Phelan and Olaf. Sebastian couldn't help noticing that when the four of them stood close together, the planks sagged dramatically beneath their combined weight.
'Still quite a bit of sap in this wood,' observed Phelan, stamping a boot down hard. 'When everyone's aboard we'll have to make sure that we space ourselves out a bit.'
'You could always put some supporting braces below decks,' suggested Cornelius. 'To take the strain.'
Phelan shook his head. 'I don't think there's room for that,' he said. 'Come and take a look.' He led them through a doorway set into the central wheelhouse. Within, they found a surprisingly spacious enclosure containing bunks and benches, with just enough room for everyone to stretch themselves out to sleep. In the centre, a set of rickety steps led down through an open hatch.
Phelan pointed down them. 'Go and have a look,' he said. Cornelius started to descend and Sebastian followed. It was dark down below, but an ancient oil lamp hung from a hook on the wall. Cornelius found his tinderbox and eventually managed to get the lamp lit. He held it at arm's length to illuminate the hold. As he looked around, he gasped and Sebastian did likewise.
The entire length and breadth of the area was stacked with booty. Now Sebastian understood why Phelan had said that there would be no space for a supporting brace. He was reminded of Captain Callinestra's treasure, a small part of which they had appropriated and ultimately lost in the sinking of the Marauder. The children of Sanctuary had clearly decided to leave none of the hoard behind. In the soft glow of the lamplight Sebastian saw the shimmer of gold and precious jewels: crowns and necklaces, open sacks of coins, jewel-encrusted scabbards and beautifully tooled swords. There were statues and paintings and medals and things that Sebastian couldn't easily identify, but it was evident that Aaron had not been exaggerating when he boasted of the wealth stored in the ark. It must have been worth a thousand king's ransoms.
'It looks . . . heavy,' said Sebastian.
Cornelius nodded. 'I'm beginning to appreciate what a responsibility this is,' he murmured. 'Getting those children to Veltan will only be part of the operation. If word got out that they had this kind of fortune at their disposal, there'd be villains queuing up to relieve them of it.' He considered for a moment. 'We'd have to find them a safe place to store it. We might even have to consider making an arrangement with a – a bank.'
Sebastian frowned. 'Are you sure?' he muttered. 'My father used to hate those places – said they weren't to be trusted.'
'With respect, Sebastian, your father might have been prosperous in his heyday but he didn't have this kind of wealth at his disposal. They can hardly keep all this under their mattresses, can they? At any rate, that's something to think about later. First of all, we have to be as sure as we can be that this vessel will actually make it to Veltan.'
'So . . . we're accepting the assignment?'
Cornelius turned back to him and grinned. 'Of course we're accepting it! Sebastian, if we pull this off, we'll be set up for life.'
'And Thaddeus Peel?'
'Oh, sucks to him – we'll sort him out later, if we're in the mood. Come on.'
They turned and made their way back up to the deck, where they found Phelan and Olaf waiting anxiously for them.
'Well?' said Phelan. 'What do you think?'
Cornelius adopted a cool demeanour. 'I have just one question for you,' he said. 'When were you thinking of leaving?'
CHAPTER 25
ONCE A FOOL
'Three days' time?' cried Max. 'Do you think that's a good idea?'
He was reclining on cushions in the corner of the communal room, having just devoured a bucket of fruit that some of the children had procured for him.
Cornelius turned to look at the buffalope. 'Good idea or not, that's when we're leaving,' he said flatly. 'But don't worry, I'm going to spend the time wisely. I'm taking a work party up there every day to make a few improvements of my own.'
'Oh, so now you're an engineer,' observed Max caustically. 'Honestly, there seems to be no end to your talents.'
Cornelius shrugged. 'I'd hardly call myself an engineer,' he said. 'But I can see that it would be a good idea to strengthen the hull and the deck. Any fool could do that.'
Max turned his gaze in Sebastian's direction. 'Well, a fool designed the boat, so anything's possible,' he said.
'What's he on about?' asked Keera, who as ever was at Sebastian's side.
'Hmm?' Cornelius looked at her. 'Oh, nothing,' he said. 'Ignore him, I think he got too much sun today.'
Night had fallen only a little while earlier, and in the big hall the younger children were running around playing one of their boisterous games, the older ones huddled in little groups, talking animatedly or eating bowls of stew taken from the big pot. Salah sat with one group, talking as though she had been doing it all her life. There was a sense of anticipation in the air: word had got around that they would soon be leaving for Veltan. Sebastian wondered how they would cope with their new found wealth and a completely different life in a bustling port – assuming, of course, that they made it there in one piece. A quick head count told him that there were fifteen children in all, including Phelan and Salah, with ages ranging between three summers and fifteen.
Phelan appeared through the door and made a beeline for Sebastian. 'Aaron wishes to speak with you again,' he said; but when Cornelius also started to rise from his seat, the boy shook his head. 'Just Sebastian this time,' he insisted.
'What's it about?' asked Sebastian, but Phelan simply shrugged his thin shoulders and beckoned impatiently. The elfling nodded and followed Phelan out of the room and up the staircase.
The boy led Sebastian to the big doors and pushed them open, but made no move to follow him inside. Sebastian found the old man sitting on his huge golden throne. A more modest chair was set out beside him.
'Ah, Sebastian, thank you for coming,' he said. 'Please, sit beside me for a little while. I would very much like to talk with you.'
Sebastian did as he was asked. 'How are you this evening?' he asked politely.
'I am well,' said Aaron. 'And all the better now Phelan has told me you've decided to accompany the children to Veltan.'
'Yes,' said Sebastian. 'We will undertake your mission. But . . .'
'Yes?' asked Aaron anxiously.
'Well, I wish you'd consider coming with us. I'm sure if we made some kind of stretcher, we could easily carry you down to the ark. And there are bunks inside – we could make you comfortable enough.'
'I've no doubt you could,' agreed Aaron. 'But what would be the point? Even if I survived the journey, I'd have only a very short time in an unfamiliar world. It's different for the children. They are adaptable; they are just starting out. But this room is all I have known for much of my life. I would rather die here, surrounded by the things I love. Besides there's one last thing I wish to do before death claims me.'
'What's that?' asked Sebastian.
'Oh, nothing of importance,' murmured Aaron dismissively. He gazed thoughtfully at Sebastian. 'Phelan told me something interesting about you,' he said. 'It appears we have something in common.'
'Really?' Sebastian was initially puzzled, but then Aaron's meaning became clear to him. 'Oh, you mean that we were both once jesters?'
Aaron chuckled. 'Once a fool, always a fool,' he said.
'Oh, no . . .' Sebastian raised a hand in denial. 'I gave it a try, that's all. My father was in the business – he was quite successful in my neck of the woods. You might have heard of him. Alexander, Prince of Fools?'
Aaron shook his grey head. 'I'm afraid not,' he said.
'Well, no matter. At any rate, he passed away suddenly. My mother and I were starving, so I set out to try and fill his boots. Quite literally. It was the only thing I could think to do. But it was a disaster. Every audience I played to seemed to hate me and nobody ever laughed at my
jokes.'
'Oh dear.' Aaron looked genuinely sympathetic. 'And who were these difficult audiences?'
Sebastian thought for a moment and was surprised to arrive at the conclusion he did. 'Actually, it was only one audience; but an important one. A whole bunch of noblemen and women at the court of King Septimus in Keladon.'
Aaron looked as though he couldn't believe his ears. 'So you allowed the reaction of one audience to persuade you that you had no skills as a jester?'
Sebastian nodded. 'Pretty much,' he admitted. 'But you've no idea how bad I was. I was lucky to get out of there alive!'
Aaron considered the matter. 'Let me ask you this, Sebastian. Did you never try performing for the best audience of all?'
'Who would that be?' asked Sebastian, mystified.
'Why, children, of course! Children are the finest audience any jester could ask for. They have no preconceptions, they don't worry what the person sitting next to them might think if they laugh. Children are a joy to perform for, and yet they are the true test of any jester's skills.'
'I never performed for children,' Sebastian said.
'Well, then, perhaps you should! You have a captive audience of children downstairs. Let's face it, none of them are going to walk out on you – not if they value their lives. And the nights are so long in this city. When I was younger and still able to drag myself around on crutches, I used to do my old routines for the children here. How they laughed! Those children have grown up and gone now, but there's a whole bunch down there who've never enjoyed a performance by a jester.' An idea seemed to occur to Aaron and his face brightened. He snapped his fingers. 'Yes, of course!' he said. 'Why didn't I think of that? Sebastian, at the back of the room over there you'll find a wardrobe. Go and open it for me, will you?'
Sebastian did as the old man suggested. The wardrobe was an ancient mahogany one with beautiful brass inlays. He opened the door, revealing a selection of simple white robes.
'Look behind the other garments and see what you find,' suggested Aaron.
Sebastian pulled aside the other clothes and found a beautiful jester's outfit in black-and-yellow striped silk. A matching three-pronged hat hung from a hook on the back of the door.
'This is beautiful,' cried Sebastian. 'Yours?'
'Indeed. My old costume. I took it with me everywhere I went – even on an expedition into the jungle: you just never knew when you might need it. Bring it to me, will you?'
Sebastian carried it over, holding it as though it were some holy relic. Aaron smiled and stroked the smooth material with a blue-veined hand. 'Ah, yes, it looks as though it was made yesterday, does it not?'
'It certainly does. This is fine fabric – it must have cost you a fortune.'
'I was lucky enough to have a friend who was a dressmaker.
She created this costume for me . . .' Aaron's voice seemed to fail him for a moment and his eyes misted with tears. 'Even after all this time, it hurts to remember that I left her behind,' he said. 'I chose adventure and lost somebody very dear to me. I always imagined that I would return with a fortune in gold and jewels and make her my wife. But of course, things rarely go as you plan them to.'
Sebastian couldn't help thinking of a similar situation of his own: it had been his mother he had left behind. He knew that regular payments of gold crowns were being made to her, but it had been so long since he had seen her. He told himself he must try and find his way back to Jerabim before much longer.
Aaron lifted a hand to wipe away the tears. Then he looked at Sebastian. 'Why don't you try the outfit on?' he said.
'What, me? Oh no, I couldn't—'
'Of course you could! It looks about your size.'
'Yes, but . . . I've finished with all that nonsense.'
'Why do you say it's nonsense?' asked Aaron sternly. 'Let me tell you, young man, being funny is a serious business. Please, indulge me. There's a room through there where you can change – and a full-length mirror.'
'Very well.' Sebastian found the small room, stripped off his tattered clothes and pulled on the jester's outfit, which fitted him perfectly – much better than his father's old costume ever had. He settled the hat snugly on his head, then regarded his reflection doubtfully in the mirror. Sure enough, the outfit could have been made for him. He returned to the main room and approached the throne.
Aaron beamed when he saw the transformation. 'It's perfect,' he said. 'I see now, Sebastian, that it is not chance that has brought you here, but fate. I want you to have that costume.'
'Oh no, I couldn't possibly take it,' protested Sebastian.
'You can and will! If it stays here in this place of death, then it dies with me. If it goes with you, who knows what new adventures may await it? Now' – Aaron clapped his hands together – 'I ask of you one more thing. I want you to go downstairs and perform your act for the children. Let them decide whether you're a jester or not.'
Sebastian stared at him. 'But . . . they might . . .'
'What? Laugh at you? Hopefully, they will. Now go on.'
'But you don't understand. I can't. I'm just not funny. And besides, the jokes . . . I don't—'
'Don't try to tell me you cannot remember your routine,' said Aaron. 'Once committed to memory, it's something you never forget. I should know, even after all these years: it's there at the back of my mind, ready to be recalled at a moment's notice. Go on, your audience is waiting.'
Sebastian sighed. He turned and went downstairs feeling decidedly stupid in the unfamiliar clothing. He hesitated outside the door of the big room, but finally took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The effect was dramatic. The large group of younger children who had been running around yelling suddenly stopped in their tracks to gaze at him; then, lured by the distinctive costume, they stampeded towards him, laughing delightedly and pulling him into the room. The older children soon came over to see what was going on.
At one end of the room was a raised section that might once have been used as a stage. Sebastian was pushed and prodded onto it and the children settled themselves crosslegged around him, gazing up in anticipation. It was strange. They could never have seen a jester, and yet the brightly coloured costume somehow told them that he was about to perform for them.
For a moment he was lost: he didn't know what to do or say. And then some lines from his father's old routine came to him and he launched straight in.
'Two snakes are crawling through the jungle,' he said. 'One of them says, "Hey, are we poisonous?" The second snake says, "I'm not sure, why do you ask?" And the first snake says, "I think I just bit my tongue."'
A few cautious chuckles greeted this joke and some of the children nudged each other. He pressed on.
'Two lupers are eating a jester. One looks at the other one and says, "Hey, does this taste funny to you?"'
Bigger laughs this time.
'A guy goes to the doctor and says, "Hey, Doc, I keep thinking I'm a pair of curtains." The doctor says, "Pull yourself together!" Another guy comes in and says, "Doc, I keep waking up and finding myself lying under my bed." The doctor says, "You must be a little potty!" A third guy comes in and says, "Hey, Doc, I keep thinking I'm a bridge." The doctor says, "What's come over you?" The guy says, "Two equines, a buffalope and a hay wagon!"'
The routine was flowing from him like clockwork and he even found himself mimicking his father's little gestures. He delivered every line with increasing confidence; soon the children's laughter threatened to lift the roof off the building. After a little while Sebastian found himself deviating from the established script and starting to improvise.
Sebastian Darke: Prince of Explorers Page 23
