eye peeled for trouble. And that means you’ll need a
clear head and an un-addled brain.’
‘Yes; do you think for once we could avoid the
lecture?’
‘I’m serious, Master. Let’s not forget that, one day,
King Cletus will be gone and his son will be sitting
on the throne in his place. What do you suppose are
the chances he’ll decide to let bygones be bygones and
invite you over to crack a few jokes?’
Alexander frowned.
‘That’s a good point,’ he said. ‘I hadn’t even thought
of that.’
‘Yes, well, luckily, Master, I’m here to do that for
you. You’d do well to have a plan worked out for
exactly what you’ll do when King Cletus pops off to
meet his maker. He’s not a youngster; it could happen
any time now.’
‘Yes, thanks for that! And listen, Max, not a word
of this to Mistress Sarah. She’ll only worry.’ ‘Yes, Master. But I want you to promise me that
you’ll try . . . really try to steer clear of the taverns and
alehouses. For both of our sakes.’
Alexander sighed.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I’ll turn over a new leaf. You’ll
see, after today things are going to be different.’
Chapter 24
Maximus
To be fair to Alexander, things were different for a few weeks. He made a real effort to steer clear of the taverns and he positively avoided the company of people like Sensimo, who he knew had the knack of tempting him to indulge himself in drinking.
The Royal Performances continued and Alexander was most careful not to pick on young Daniel again; but, from my regular place at the side of the stage, I could see that the boy’s stare was as filled with icy hatred as ever. We kept ourselves wary, particularly whenever we were in some lonely spot, but no more attacks transpired and we both began to relax our guard a little.
Inevitably, as the threat of danger seemed to pass, so Alexander ’s resolve weakened and, gradually, he began to slip back into his old ways. He just couldn’t seem to help himself.
The problem was, when he was drinking, his judgement wasn’t sound. Take Maximus, for instance. How my master ever ended up buying him is something I still haven’t fully made sense of.
It happened like this.
We’d just finished a show in the town of Skelton, a modest place famous for its homemade pies and pastries. On the journey home, Alexander directed me to take a route, which I knew would bring us past one of his favourite drinking dens. I found myself hoping that he’d be able to resist the impulse to stop but, sure enough, as we drew close, he told me that he might just pop in for a quick drink. I tried arguing that it was late, that the mistress would be expecting us, all the usual stuff, but to no avail. He had a powerful thirst and he was not to be denied.
As we pulled in to the grounds, I noticed a thin, wiry-looking fellow lounging against a wall. He had sharp wolfish features, a long chin that ended in a black goatee beard and he was dressed in the flamboyant silk turban and velvet cloak of a prosperous merchant. I noticed that he was holding a leather riding crop in one gloved hand, which marked him out as a trader of equines; sure enough, only a short distance away, several of the beasts were tethered, browsing the grass at the side of the road.
As I came to a stop, the man nodded to Alexander and gave a supercilious little bow.
‘As I live and breathe, ’tis the famous Mister Darke,’ he said, in an oily voice. ‘The celebrated Prince of Fools. I am a most devoted fan, sir.’
Alexander returned the bow.
‘You are most kind, Mr . . . ?’
‘Thynne. Josiah Thynne at your service. “Honest Josiah”, as I am known far and wide.’
He made another obsequious bow and then stepped closer and studied the caravan for a few moments. He ran a gloved hand across the painted title on the side of the caravan.
‘A fine vehicle, you have here,’ he observed, ‘worthy of a man of your esteem.’
Then he cast his cold grey eyes over me, and his smile faded.
‘What a pity about your choice of steed.’
Alexander climbed down from the wagon.
‘Oh, Max may be no oil painting, but he has his uses,’ he said, dismissively.
‘I’m sure he has,’ agreed Josiah. ‘Buffalopes are sturdy creatures, no doubt about it. Practical. Dependable. It’s just that they lack a certain . . . shall we say, sense of style?’
I snorted.
‘I’ll have you know I’m considered very stylish amongst the buffalope fraternity,’ I said. ‘I was the first in my herd to wear my hair this way.’
Josiah stared at me.
‘A talker, eh? Well, that is unusual. And no doubt it has a certain comic value. But surely Mr Darke, a man of your reputation deserves a more . . . noble beast to take his act around the country? Something with flair.’
He indicated the small group of equines a short distance away.
‘Now, you look at Maximus there.’
He indicated the biggest of the beasts, a rather proud and superior-looking black stallion, who was taller and more heavily muscled than his companions.
‘Sixteen hands tall, fresh from the great plains of Neruvia, a handsome beast who would turn the heads of everyone who saw him.’
‘Max has his own way of turning heads,’ said Alex - ander. ‘He sings. I bet your fine equine can’t do that.’
‘No . . . but some creatures are so magnificent they do not need to advertise their qualities. The look is everything. It reflects on the man that owns him.’
‘Thanks for your interest,’ said Alexander, ‘but I think I’ll stick with old shaggy here.’
He slapped me on the flank.
‘I won’t be long,’ he said.
‘You are going inside?’ Josiah asked him. ‘Er . . . yes, just for a . . .’
‘Swift flagon’, I muttered.
Both men turned to look at me.
‘That must take some getting used to,’ said Josiah. Then he put a hand on Alexander ’s shoulder.
‘You know, I was just contemplating going in for a drink myself. Perhaps you would honour me by allowing me to buy you a tankard of ale.’
‘That would be most kind,’ said Alexander.
‘Excellent, let us go in then.’
The two men walked towards the tavern entrance and I noticed how Josiah kept one hand on my master ’s shoulder, as though somehow claiming him as his own personal property – and the way he flung a sardonic smile over his shoulder at me.
I had a bad feeling about this. Once Alexander had a few ales inside him, his resolve would weaken, just as it had over the matter of not taking a drink. Still, I reasoned, no matter how drunk he was, he would never betray his partner, would he? There was nothing I could do for the moment, except wait.
As ever, the hours dragged themselves slowly by, and I was on the verge of falling asleep when I finally heard my master approaching. I glanced up and my heart sank. Alexander was walking with the kind of exaggerated care that regular drunkards employ in a vain attempt to make people think that they’re still sober.
Beside him, Josiah Thynne was walking and talking like somebody who had drunk nothing more affecting than a glass of water. I noticed that he was clutching a money purse in one gloved hand. As I watched, he detached himself from my master and went across to the group of equines. He untied the reins of the one called Maximus and led him around to the rear of the caravan.
‘I’ll just tie him to the back here,’ he announced. ‘He’ll follow you along quite happily.’
‘Yes, whatever!’ slurred Alexander.
I looked at my master in despair.
‘You’ve bought the equine?’ I cried in disbelief.
He shrugged his shoulders.
‘I may have
. What’s it got to do with you?’
He was as churlish as ever he was when he was steeped in alcohol.
‘But . . . we don’t need him. What will we do with him?’
‘He’ll pull the caravan, of course.’
I stared at him. ‘Pull the . . . but . . . that’s my job!’ Alexander waved a hand.
‘It’s time you had a bit of a break,’ he said. ‘You’ve earned yourself a rest.’
Josiah came back to the front of the wagon.
‘A pleasure to do business with you, sir,’ he said, in that disagreeably oily tone. ‘I’m sure you’ll be very pleased with Maximus. But don’t forget, every steed I sell is covered by my no-quibble, money-back guarantee. Have a safe journey!’
Alexander grunted something and flicked the reins against my rump. I started walking but my mind was in turmoil. How could my master have been so ungrateful? I had helped to make his act the success it was and now he was casting me aside like an old glove. I couldn’t believe it, and I told him so.
‘I can’t believe it,’ I said. ‘How could you do something like this?’
‘I’m doing you a favour,’ he said, in that familiar slurred voice. ‘Now you won’t have to get up every morning and go out to performances. You’ll be able to have a nice lie-in.’
‘I don’t want a lie-in!’ I protested. ‘I want to work. I mean . . . I do more than just drag this ruddy caravan around. I’m part of the act. Do you think that equine is going to be able to sing your introduction for you? Do you think he’ll be able to advise you, as I do?’ Alexander waved a hand in dismissal.
‘That sung intro is a bit old-hat now,’ he said. ‘Josiah tells me that all the best jesters are keeping their routines minimal. You’ve got to move with the times, Max, no sense in standing still. Look at Jonathan Jolly. He didn’t change his act and now he’s history.’
‘I haven’t noticed anybody complaining about my intro,’ I argued. ‘In fact, many people seem to think it’s a showstopper! King Cletus loves the song!’
‘Yes, but he’s heard it plenty of times. I mean, I don’t go out there and tell him the same jokes every performance, do I? He’d soon get fed up with that.’
‘Well, that’s no problem. I can write new lyrics; that’s easy for me. In fact, I was toying with some new ideas just the other day. Supposing I came out and sang it more like this . . .’
But in the pause I heard a familiar sound: the long, drawn-out rasps of my master snoring. I felt furious, but my attempts to rouse him from his stupor were fruitless, so there was nothing for it but to plod back across the dark plains in the direction of home.
Chapter 25
A Little Advice
Once there, we went through the usual sorry routine. Mistress Sarah met us with a lantern and proceeded to try and wake Alexander, which was no easy matter. Eventually he stirred himself, half climbed, half fell down from the caravan, muttered a few words of apology to his poor wife and staggered off to bed.
It being a cool night, Mistress Sarah led me and Maximus to the barn, where she was obliged to find some extra food for the new arrival.
‘Why on earth did he buy an equine?’ she asked me.
I hung my head.
‘To replace me,’ I said, dismally. ‘Somebody convinced him that he was far too grand to be pulled around by a scruffy old buffalope.’
Mistress Sarah’s expression hardened.
‘Is that so?’ she murmured. ‘We’ll see about that.’ She glanced towards the house.
‘I’ll speak to him in the morning,’ she said. ‘There’s little point in trying to get through to him in that state.’
‘I’m sorry, Mistress,’ I said. ‘I pleaded with him not to go in that tavern, but he wouldn’t listen.’
She stroked my head fondly.
‘It’s not your fault, Max. You’re the one thing around here that I can depend on.’
She threw a doubtful look at Maximus.
‘I don’t think there’s a creature in the world that can take your place – and Alexander would know that too if his brain wasn’t addled with drink.’
She bid me goodnight and went into the house, leaving me alone with Maximus, who was poking his nose disdainfully into the food that Mistress Sarah had left out.
‘These are lean pickings,’ he observed haughtily, using the common language of the plains, though from his mouth it sounded somehow rather well-to-do. ‘I hope we don’t get this every night.’
I studied him for a moment. Mistress Sarah might have believed that Alexander would find his right mind once he was sober, but I knew how stubborn the man could be when his mind was fixed on something. No, I would need to work on Maximus a bit, just to ensure that events swung back in my favour.
I sidled up alongside him and began to eat.
‘The food’s generally rather humble around here. Not what you’re used to, I’m sure.’
Maximus tossed his head.
‘Until recently, I wandered the plains of Neruvia, with thirty fine-looking mares at my beck and call,’ he said. ‘I ate the lush grasses of the plains, whenever I wanted. Then the Uprights came with their long snake coils.’
‘Ropes,’ I told him. ‘They call them ropes.’
‘Whatever. They overpowered me. Let me tell you, it took ten of them to subdue me and a couple of them will never walk again.’
‘I don’t wonder,’ I said. ‘You are a magnificent physical specimen.’
Maximus shrugged his huge shoulders.
‘I don’t like to boast . . .’
Yes you do! I thought.
‘. . . but some creatures in this world are just born superior to their fellows. Why, from the earliest age, I was renowned amongst my herd for my exceptional feats of strength, my speed and agility and, of course, my dashing good looks.’
‘I can see why that would be the case,’ I agreed. ‘Must be a terrible come-down for you.’
He stopped eating and looked at me.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘Well, being tethered to the caravan of a lowly jester. I mean, it’s nothing to me, I’m a humble . . .’ (it almost choked me to say this!) ‘. . . beast of burden. But you! You were born to carry a King as he rides out to hunt panthers . . . or to bear a Prince across the desert to attend his coronation . . . not to drag a caravan around the lowest, seediest taverns in the land.’
Maximus snorted through his nostrils.
‘I’m sorry, but . . . what is a jester, exactly? I can see he wears strangely coloured skins, but . . .’
Here was my opening and I took it.
‘A jester is a professional idiot,’ I said. ‘A man who makes his living by falling about, singing, shouting and telling crude jokes. Everywhere he goes, people laugh at him. I mean, you’ve seen what’s written on the side of his caravan, haven’t you?’
Maximus shook his head.
‘I know nothing of the Upright tongue,’ he said.
‘Oh, of course not.’
I’d been counting on this.
‘Well, basically it says, “See the silly idiot and his equally stupid assistant.” That will be you, obviously. And under that it says, “We’re so thick, we’ll make you wee yourself laughing”.’
Maximus flared his nostrils and looked quite affronted.
‘Oh dear,’ he said. ‘That doesn’t sound like something I’d want to be associated with.’
‘I quite understand,’ I said. ‘Me, I’ve got used to all the messing about now.’
‘Messing about?’
Maximus was clearly getting rather worried.
‘Yes, well, you see, when you pull the caravan, you’re part of the act, aren’t you? I don’t mind wearing the silly hat, so much. But the worst bit is when he invites the audience to throw rotten eggs and fruit at you. It doesn’t bother me much with my nice thick coat, but somebody like you now . . .’
‘They throw things at you?’ cried Maximus. ‘Isn’t there some kind of a law against that?’
‘Apparently not. Oh, and then there’s the bit with the sign that he hangs on your tail. It just says, “Kick me!” And you know, the kids in the villages, they can be so rough. My rear end is just one mass of bruises. At least I won’t have to suffer that any more.’
Now Maximus was looking nervously around.
‘There’s clearly been some frightful mistake!’ he said. ‘I’m not cut out for that kind of treatment!’
‘Oh, you’ll be all right,’ I told him. ‘Big strong fellow like you. You get used to it eventually. At first, it’s a bit unnerving, everyone laughing at you and throwing things. . .’
‘And kicking you!’ added Maximus.
‘And kicking you, yes. But you know, we creatures are put on this earth to suffer and I suppose we just have to accept it.’
‘Hmmpph!’ said Maximus. ‘That might be your view, but it’s certainly not mine. I’m from very good stock, you know.’
‘I can see that.’
‘And I’m not used to the ways of commoners.’
‘Oh, you’ll soon get the hang of it. Let me see now, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?’
I pretended to think for a moment.
‘Oh yes, of course . . . the village of Much Grunting In The Marsh. Delightful place. The people there are . . . what’s the word? Homely. Yes, they may be filthy and they may smell like a cesspit in high summer, but they know how to make you feel welcome. Of course, since they had the pestilence there, you’ve got to be careful not to actually touch them, but . . .’
‘The pestilence?’
Maximus was looking anxiously towards the exit, but Mistress Sarah had closed up the barn doors for the night.
‘Oh yes, but don’t worry, it’s not a particularly bad one. More akin to leprosy, really. You don’t die, but bits of you tend to go rotten and drop off.’
Now Maximus’s eyes got very wide and he looked at me in total panic.
‘Look, this isn’t right! You’ve got to help me get out of here!’
I shook my head.
‘No chance of that, I’m afraid. Mistress Sarah keeps the doors locked in case of lupers. Loads of them around here; sometimes they’re all over this place like a rash. But tomorrow morning, my master will come for you and he’ll get you ready for your visit. He’ll have the hat and the sign for your tail . . . and, of course, he’ll administer some protection for your trip to Much Grunting In The Marsh.’
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