‘That’s why we . . . er . . . devised this new routine,’ I added. ‘Because we wanted to please his Majesty.’
‘Look,’ said Alexander, ‘I’m sorry if we were a bit rough on the stage and everything . . .’
‘Oh, that doesn’t matter! You put King Cletus in a good humour for the first time in years and that is a minor miracle in itself. You’re obviously a very clever man, Mr Darke.’
Alexander smiled.
‘Well, to be honest, we work as a team, sire. It er . . . took both of us to devise that routine.’
Lord Frobisher gave me a look and nodded.
‘Quite so, quite so.’
He pulled a purse from his pocket and tossed it to my master.
‘There, Mister Darke . . . and er . . . Mr Buffalope . . .’
‘Max,’ I said. ‘My name is Max.’
‘Ahem! Yes, quite. There are five gold crowns for your trouble. Yes, I know I promised you four if you performed well, but his Majesty was so delighted, I feel the extra is merited. Furthermore, his Majesty has asked me if you will indulge him on a regular basis – shall we say, once every two weeks?’
Now Alexander ’s grin spread across his face.
‘We would be honoured,’ he said, with a gracious bow. ‘Please give his Majesty our profound thanks.’
‘Excellent. It’s decided then. I shall send a messenger to hammer out the details. Now, I must go. His Majesty has agreed to listen to a pet project of mine. So, you see, my little entertainment has had far-reaching consequences. I shall trust in you both to keep him sweet in the months to come. Farewell for now.’
And he swept away in his usual imperious manner. Alexander felt the weight of the purse in his hand.
‘I don’t quite believe it,’ he said, ‘but it appears to have gone brilliantly. Max, once again, I am in your debt. I mean, it was your idea to go onstage like that. Had we done our normal routine, who knows what might have happened?’
I shrugged my shoulders.
‘A happy accident, Master, nothing more. I just hope that King Cletus doesn’t expect us to be quite so physical every time we go on stage!’
We enjoyed a hearty laugh over that remark. Neither of us could wait to get home and tell Mistress Sarah about our good fortune; but, after a little discussion, we both agreed not to tell her the full story.
Chapter 21
Rising Stars
From that day on, life changed for my master and me. When news of the success of the Royal Appearance got around, we were suddenly in great demand. It seemed that every Lord and Lady in the land wished to see the act that had so delighted King Cletus. Alexander even went so far as to have the words ‘By Royal Appointment’ added to the design on the side of his caravan.
Realising that the King had a soft spot for slapstick, we took great pains to devise more physical bits of comedy to add to the routine. To be honest, we never did anything quite as extreme as our debut performance, but King Cletus seemed equally entranced by the jokes and riddles that my master told, so that was no great problem. Every two weeks, we had a slot reserved to appear at the Palace and we always got a warm welcome, at least from the King. I had hoped that Daniel might eventually warm to us but, if anything, he seemed to dislike us more and more with every passing day and would sit through each performance with a scowl on his face.
It worried me, that. I remember discussing the matter with my master one fine afternoon as we returned from the Palace.
‘Master,’ I said. ‘I hope you do not think it amiss of me to give you a word of caution.’
‘Of course not,’ he said.
‘It’s young Daniel the Doleful. He clearly does not share his Father ’s enthusiasm for our act.’
‘Yes, I’m aware of that. But it’s not a problem, surely?’
‘Not now, Master. But King Cletus is not a young man and he won’t always be around.’
‘Hmm. I see your point. You’re saying we could lose our Royal patronage one day. But . . . what can I do about the situation?’
‘If I were you, I would try and find out what the boy does find funny . . . and incorporate it into the act, as quickly as possible.’
To be fair to my master, he did heed these words and for a time, he tried to experiment with different kinds of humour; but nothing seemed to appeal to Daniel; he was just a miserable little wretch and who could worry about one small boy, when everybody else seemed to be clamouring for us?
Of course, as the money began to roll in, life for Alexander and Mistress Sarah changed beyond all recognition. My master was able to settle all of his outstanding debts and now he could afford to purchase some of the luxuries of life that had thus far been denied him.
He bought clothes and jewels for Mistress Sarah and he had the good sense to plough some of his earnings back into the act, buying better, more elaborate costumes and props. He even had a special cabinet built by master craftsmen in the town of Jerebim, an ingenious device with a hidden chamber at the back, which made it appear that whoever had stepped into the cabinet had disappeared into thin air. He incorporated this into the act, choosing a young lady from the audience and trusting her not to reveal how the trick was achieved and as far as I am aware, not one of them ever told on him.
The name of Alexander Darke now carried the same power that Jonathan Jolly once had; but, as I often had cause to wonder, where was Jonathan Jolly now? Nobody had heard of him for a long, long time and, it seemed to me, that what had happened to the former famous jester was a cautionary tale that my master would do well to heed. No matter how high a star may fly, eventually it will reach its highest arc and then start to fall.
My master ’s fall began a long time before his success started to diminish. He was at the very height of his career when he first discovered the lure of the demon drink. It happened like this . . .
We did an afternoon performance at an archery tournament in the market town of Mindleflange and, sharing the bill with us, was a conjurer called The Great Sensimo.
He seemed an affable enough fellow, able to perform some quite astonishing tricks and illusions, though I couldn’t help noticing that, for such a young man, he had a very red nose and quite a few exposed blood vessels on his cheeks – the unmistakable signs of a man who is fond of alcohol.
However, he and the master seemed to get on like a house on fire and, after the performance, Sensimo suggested that he and Alexander might pop into a local tavern for what he referred to as a ‘swift flagon’.
At first, Alexander politely declined the invitation, saying that he wanted to get back to his wife, but Sensimo was insistent and, eventually, Alexander gave in. He instructed me to tow the wagon to The Mutt and Thumbscrew and to wait for him outside, which, at first, I was glad to do. But I had not anticipated how long he would be in there.
It was fully dark when he came staggering out, with one arm wrapped around Sensimo’s shoulders. He was laughing and talking in a very loud voice and I watched sadly as he and Sensimo went through an elaborate routine of bidding each other goodnight, which seemed to consist of pushing each other in the chest and sniggering at some obscure joke. Finally, Sensimo went staggering away to his own carriage and Alexander dragged himself into the seat and gave my rump a hard slap with the reins.
‘Home!’ he barked, as though he was talking to some common beast of burden.
I turned my head and fixed him with a look.
‘You’re drunk,’ I said.
He glared at me.
‘What if I am?’ he snapped, in a slow slurred voice. ‘It’s no business of yours. Move on!’
I should explain.
There are some people who should never drink alcohol. This is something I have learned over the years. You take one man, for instance, who has a few drinks, gets a bit merry, sings a few songs, falls asleep and wakes up with a headache. No great problem there. That’s the category I fall into. I’m a model citizen when I have a bit of ale.
But then, you take another man.
He has a few drinks and he just turns mean, nasty, spiteful and rude. Nobody knows why this should be the case. It just happens to certain people. And, I’m sorry to say, that my master fell into the second category. This was the first time I had ever seen him like this, but sadly, it wouldn’t be the last.
Now he slapped me again, harder than before.
‘Come on!’ he said. ‘Move it.’
I did as I was told but I wasn’t about to leave it there.
‘Mistress Sarah will be worried about us,’ I told him. ‘She was expecting us back in daylight.’
‘Oh, she’ll be all right. That woman can look after herself. Goodness, don’t I work hard to earn her some money? Surely she can’t begrudge me just one night to let my hair down?’
‘I’m sure she doesn’t begrudge you anything,’ I said. ‘But perhaps if you’d sent word to tell her you would be late back . . .’
‘What’s it to do with you?’ he snarled. ‘Who are you, anyway, my blessed wet nurse?’
I cannot deny that I felt particularly hurt by this jibe. After all, my remark had been prompted by concern for him, nothing more.
‘I was under the impression that I was your partner,’ I told him. ‘However, it would seem I’m speaking out of turn, so . . .’
‘Oh, lighten up, will you? C’mon, let’s sing a little song to lift our spirits. We’ll do the Alexander Darke introduction song. A one, two, three, FOUR!’
And with that he launched into a raucous, out-oftune version of the song I’d written, seemingly unaware that I wasn’t joining in with him. After a while, his singing trailed away and was replaced by a series of rasping snores.
It was a long and difficult journey across the plain in the moonlight and I was on edge all the way, looking nervously around whenever an owl hooted or a luper howled. And what would we do if we had an encounter with brigands? My master ’s brilliant swordsmanship would be of no avail if he couldn’t even stand up.
But luckily we made it home without any trouble. As we neared the homestead, I was not surprised to see Mistress Sarah standing out on the front doorstep and anxiously holding up a lantern.
‘Alexander!’ she cried, as we drew nearer and he woke with a start. ‘Where on earth have you been? I’ve been worried sick!’
‘Oh, don’t you start,’ muttered Alexander, half climbing, half falling down from his seat. ‘Goodness me, a man stops for a swift flagon for once in his life and all he gets is earache! Well, I’m going to bed!’
He stumbled past her into the house, leaving her standing there, looking stunned. She stared at me accusingly.
‘What’s been going on?’ she asked.
‘It’s not my fault, Mistress,’ I assured her. ‘It was the magician who lured him into the tavern. The Great Sensimo, he’s called. The Great Drunken Oaf might be a better name for him. I just waited outside . . . for ages!’
Sarah relaxed a little.
‘Ah well,’ she said. ‘It’s not as if he does it very often. In fact, now I come to think of it, I can’t remember him ever doing it before. I suppose he’s earned himself a bit of relaxation; he’s been working hard. Both of you have. Here . . .’
She took hold of my bridle and led me towards the barn.
‘You must be tired. Let’s get you unhitched from the caravan.’
‘I’m sorry, Mistress, my master usually does this job before he goes inside. It’s surely not a task for one as delicate as yourself.’
She smiled.
‘I expect I’ll survive,’ she said.
She swung open the door of the barn and hung the lantern up inside. Then she led me in and began to unbuckle the harness. I gave a sigh and shrugged my shoulders. It was always a good feeling when the harness came off. It reminded me of my younger days on the great plains, before I even knew what the humans were all about.
‘I’ve prepared your supper already,’ Mistress Sarah told me.
She looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned to look at me with those enchanting elvish eyes.
‘Max, I don’t suppose I’ve ever said this to you before, but I’m very grateful for the way you look after Alexander.’
‘I, Mistress? Oh, I don’t do so very much . . .’
‘Of course you do! It’s not just that you pull that great big wagon all over the plains, but . . . well, I know you’ve done so much to help him attain his success. The songs, the advice. . . I mean, Betty was a wonderful loyal creature, but she couldn’t have helped him as you have and I thank the stars that he found you when he did.’
She rubbed my head affectionately and planted a little kiss on my cheek.
‘I hope you’ll always be around to look after him,’ she added. ‘Now . . . enjoy your supper!’
And she went out of the stable, leaving me to eat, which I did without any hesitation.
But, as I ate, I thought about what had happened tonight and I couldn’t help but worry a little. Alexander had seemed like a different man with a few drinks inside him . . . a man I did not really care for.
I only hoped that there would be no repeat of the incident.
But, of course, this was only the beginning. At first such happenings were few and far between, but it would only take some fellow-performer to suggest a quick drink, a rakish Lord plying him with wine in an attempt to get the performance to go a bit longer, or some sycophantic fan who longed for the glory of saying that he had drunk a few flagons with the Prince of Fools . . . and there I would be, waiting impatiently outside some seedy tavern, imagining Mistress Sarah home alone, wondering what time we would return.
Pointless to try and lecture him when he was under the influence: then you’d get nothing but verbal abuse for your trouble. The following day of course, he’d be mortified, embarrassed, he’d swear to you that it would never happen again, that he’d never touch another drop of ale as long as he lived.
But, as time went on, it happened more and more and I was powerless to stop it.
As a consequence, life at the Darke household became somewhat strained. There were mornings when Mistress Sarah came out to see us off and insisted on talking to me, rather than her husband.
‘Max,’ she would say. ‘Please tell your master that I will expect to see him while there is still some light left in the day.’
I would then have to repeat the phrase to Alexander, as though he hadn’t actually heard what she had said.
‘Max, kindly tell the mistress that I have no intention of staying out past nightfall, and that such an occurrence will only ever happen if my employer insists on me staying for a drink.’
‘Max, please tell your master that no man can be persuaded to drink unless he already has a mind to!’
‘Max, tell the mistress that some men are driven to drink by the constant nagging of their wives!’
‘Max, tell the master that some women are driven to nagging by the drinking of their husbands!’
‘Max, kindly say goodbye to the mistress for me.’
‘Max, please bid the master a fond farewell and tell him that I love him very much.’
And so it went on. The happy times that I had enjoyed in my early days with the Darke family seemed to be slipping further and further away from me and I would have done anything to get them back again. But, if I have learned one thing in my life, it is this. When somebody has set out along the path to self-destruction, there is very little that you can say or do to make them turn back again.
Chapter 22
Sometimes, danger can come from an unexpected direction.
A Royal Enemy
We had just arrived for one of our regular performances at the Palace and I was dismayed to learn that the Great Sensimo was one of the support acts. This inevitably meant a long session at the tavern afterwards and I had the foresight to suggest to Alexander that he send a messenger to warn Mistress Sarah. Thankfully, he took my advice and despatched a man straight away.
The show started on time. Sensimo walked out and did his magical tricks to
quite warm applause, but it was my master whom everyone had come to see and, when he stepped out onto the stage, the applause was tumultuous. After the disaster of my first appearance, I had learned that it was best to stay in the wings and watch proceedings from there.
As ever, King Cletus was positively howling with laughter and, beside him, young Daniel was as pale and grim as ever. It must have been a constant annoyance to Alexander that he could never win the boy over, and today some reckless quality within him made him single Daniel out for ridicule. As soon as he started, I felt it was a mistake.
‘Look at the face on him!’ said Alexander, pointing to the boy. ‘You know, when he was born, the doctor took one look at his face and slapped the midwife!’
King Cletus thought this was hilarious and so did the rest of the court, but Daniel just sat there, glaring daggers at the stage. This would have been a sensible moment to move on, but Alexander had got the bit between his teeth and continued in the same vein.
‘Mind you, his father is devoted to him and takes him everywhere . . . but that’s just so he never has to kiss him goodbye!’
Again, howls of laughter from the King and the court, but a cold, glassy-eyed stare of hatred from the boy himself. I began to hope that my master would move on to another subject. But he didn’t.
‘You know, young Daniel once tried to enter an ugly contest, but they told him, ”No professionals!” He visited a haunted house and came out with an application form! King Cletus took him to the zoo and the man at the door said, “Thanks for bringing him back!”’
‘Master!’ I hissed through the curtain. ‘Enough!’ Alexander must have heard me because he paused for a moment and then swung off onto another subject; but Daniel’s expression remained the same and I saw that his little hands were bunched into fists. It struck me then that, whereas before Daniel had simply found Alexander unfunny, now he had reason to hate him. I resolved to warn my master about it.
But, as it happened, I had no opportunity to do that. No sooner had Alexander taken his final bow, then Sensimo was there to slap him on the back and suggest that they partake of the usual ‘swift flagon’. So off we trooped, our vehicles riding side by side so the two men could ‘chat’ (‘swap boasts’ might be a better way to describe the conversation!) and, before very long, we arrived at the nearest alehouse, a rather more salubrious place than usual called The King’s Head, which, because of its proximity to the Palace, boasted a painted portrait of King Cletus above the door. In marched Alexander and Sensimo and I was left to while away the time, as darkness descended.
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