Sebastian Darke: Prince of Fools

by Philip Caveney

  'Guards!' he yelled. 'Fetch equines! We need to go after those men.'

  'Colin wants you to close the gates now,' Max told the buffalopes; and he galloped after his friends.

  The two buffalopes stopped obediently in their tracks, twisted round in their traces and started walking in the other direction. The gates began to swing shut again. Max managed to get through the narrowing gap just in time.

  'No!' roared the officer. 'Open the gates! We need to get after them! Open the bloody gates!'

  The buffalopes simply stepped up their pace. The officer ran to the gates and tried desperately to hold them back, but to no avail. 'Help me,' he roared; other soldiers ran to assist him, but they could not compete with the strength of two fully grown buffalopes and the doors slammed shut with a mighty thud, trapping everyone inside.

  Sebastian, Cornelius and Max galloped across the plains, following the wheel ruts in the general direction of Brigandia. Cornelius turned in his saddle and stared back towards the palace.

  'Nobody seems to be following us!' he shouted. 'In fact it looks like they've closed the gates.'

  Sebastian looked at Max, who was racing along with a self-satisfied smile on his face. 'How did you manage that?' he asked incredulously.

  Max glanced up at him. 'Never underestimate the power of religion,' he said mysteriously. And that was all he had to say on the matter.

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER 24

  IN CAPTIVITY

  The three friends stood on the ridge in the gathering morning sunlight and gazed despondently down into the valley below them. They saw the sprawling city of Brigandia, dwarfed by distance and laid out like an intricate model on the dusty plain. There were no walls around this lawless place because only the brave and the foolhardy would dare to venture into that maze of narrow streets. Even as they stood there looking down, a tiny cattle wagon was kicking up a trail of dust as it raced under the huge stone arch that marked the main entrance.

  'I can't believe it,' said Cornelius angrily. 'They only had a little start on us. By rights, we should have caught up with them before daybreak.'

  'It's my fault,' said Max woefully. 'I'm not as young as I used to be. I couldn't keep up that kind of pace all night. I told you to go on without me!'

  'It's as much our fault,' said Sebastian. 'What a pity we don't have a map of this area.'

  'Who needs a map?' growled Cornelius. 'I've never had any use for such a thing, I just follow my instincts.'

  'Well, all right, but you have to admit that we lost our way for quite a while back there. I still say we should have taken the left-hand fork when we came to that dead tree. But you were convinced it was the one on the right . . .'

  Cornelius sighed and shook his head. 'Well, whatever the reasons, the whole rescue has just become much more difficult,' he said. 'It's one thing to fight a couple of Brigands in the middle of nowhere. It's quite another to wander into their stronghold and take on the entire population.'

  'We're not giving up on Princess Kerin,' Sebastian warned him.

  'I didn't say we were! But it's going to require some planning, that much is obvious.' Cornelius turned away and went to sit on a nearby rock. 'I don't suppose you thought to grab any food before we left the royal stables?' he said. 'I'm absolutely starving!'

  Sebastian walked over to Captain Tench's equine and unslung a large waterskin from the saddle. 'Only water,' he said. 'Sorry.' He carried it over to Cornelius and handed it to him.

  'So what else have you got in there?' demanded Cornelius, indicating a set of bulging saddlebags. 'You certainly spent enough time rooting around in your caravan before we left. I assumed you were getting provisions.'

  'I picked up a few things I thought might prove useful,' said Sebastian mysteriously. 'Things that belonged to my father.'

  'What things?' asked Max suspiciously.

  'Thunder-sticks.'

  Max looked suddenly very wary. 'Oh no, not the thunder-sticks,' he said. T didn't even want you to bring them in the caravan, let alone in your saddlebags.'

  'What in the name of Shadlog are thunder-sticks?' demanded Cornelius.

  'They're these things my father brought back from his visit to the mountains of Kanderban,' explained Sebastian. 'You light the end of them with a tinderbox, and after a few moments they go off with a bang! The Kanderban tribesmen use them in their festivals. My father planned to incorporate them into his act but when he tested one, the explosion was far too powerful—'

  'Blew a great big crater in the middle of the field,' said Max. 'I advised the young master to get rid of them before there was some terrible accident. But of course nobody ever listens to me.'

  Cornelius frowned. 'I dare say they might come in useful,' he admitted. 'We could use them to create some kind of diversion perhaps. But listen, it might not come to that. As I see it, there's nothing to stop us from riding straight in there. And there's no reason why we can't bid for the princess in the auction – it will probably be open to the public'

  'So,' murmured Sebastian, 'you're saying we can just buy her back?'

  'Well, we can bid. I don't know about you, but I've only got a few croats to my name.' He shook his head ruefully. 'It's maddening! There was a whole stack of gold coins back at that ambush. If I'd only thought to grab them after the fight, we'd probably have enough money to purchase her.'

  'Well, I've nothing either,' said Sebastian. 'It's a pity King Septimus didn't give me some of my wages in advance.'

  They both looked at Max.

  'Obviously I haven't got any!' he told them. 'I'm a buffalope.'

  'So we'll have to find another way,' said Cornelius. 'Grabbing the princess should be easy enough; getting out of there in one piece – that's a different matter. Chances are every Brigand in the city will be on our heels.' He actually seemed to brighten at this prospect. He lifted the waterskin to his lips, took a swig, then handed it to Sebastian. T suggest we just make our way down there and do a bit of sniffing around,' he said. 'Try and get the lie of the land. I don't suppose they hold the slave auctions every day: we need to find out where and when they are.'

  Sebastian nodded. He took a swig of water himself. 'I hope she's all right,' he said.

  'Oh, I've seen that one fighting lupers,' Cornelius reminded him. 'I reckon she'll manage until we get there. Come on, let's make tracks.'

  They returned to their mounts and climbed up into the saddles. They started back along the trail that led to Brigandia. Max remained on the ridge for a few moments, staring mournfully down at the city, only too aware of its terrible reputation.

  'Brigandia,' he muttered, 'City of Thieves.' He sighed. 'And it all seemed to be going so well!'

  He shrugged his massive shoulders, turned away and followed the two equines down the hillside.

  Peering through the knothole, Princess Kerin saw a swift succession of images flashing by as the wagon clattered along the narrow streets. She saw groups of ragged, tattered people staring suspiciously at the wagon as they loitered around roadside stalls selling food and home-made wine; she saw tall white-painted buildings with rugs and tapestries hanging from the windows, and strange humpbacked, long-necked animals carrying sacks of grain.

  Here sat a street conjurer sending a small child up a rope, which seemed to rear up into thin air; and over there were beggars, squatting in doorways, holding out their hands for coins. There were armed groups of warriors swaggering drunkenly around the streets and large gangs of children yelling and shouting as they chased a ball. She saw servants carrying an ornate velvet chair on which a rich merchant and his wife were sprawled, and a huge grey animal with big flapping ears and a strangely elongated snout. Finally she noticed a sign, crudely painted on a slab of wood, which said: to the auctions.

  She pulled her face away from the knothole and realized that the wagon was slowing down. As it came to a halt, she heard the jeering voices of men outside the wagon. Then there was the clank of a chain being untied and the doors of the wagon burst
open, allowing sunlight to glare into the interior. The one called Kasim stood there, grinning in at her. Behind him was a small wiry man with a scruffy beard.

  'We have arrived at our destination, your highness,' said Kasim, giving her a mocking bow. 'Now shift your royal backside and get out here.'

  'I will not,' Princess Kerin told him.

  'Then allow me to help you,' said Kasim. He lunged forward, grabbed a handful of her hair, and as she screamed and struggled, he dragged her out into the open and dumped her in the dust. She sat there staring up at him in astonishment, totally lost for words.

  'Forget your life of privilege,' he told her. 'It counts for nothing here. You either do as you're told or you'll feel the toe of my boot in your arse.' He looked at the wiry man. 'Take her to the holding pen,' he said. 'And try not to damage her too much. I don't want her covered in bruises for the auction tomorrow.'

  'Yes, Master Kasim.' The little man grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet. Kasim moved away, shouting orders to other men.

  Princess Kerin looked around quickly. They were in a wide, open marketplace, one side of which was dominated by a high wooden platform, with steps leading up to it. Ahead of them stood a low stone building with a metal door set into it. As they approached, the wiry man shouted, and the door was unbolted from within. A brutish-looking guard in a chain-mail jerkin stood back to allow them to descend a steep flight of steps, then slammed and bolted the heavy door behind them.

  Princess Kerin was ushered into a dank, airless under?ground room, lit only by a couple of oil lamps. In the dim light she could see two huge metal cages, in which groups of people had been placed. One cage held men, the other women, but all the captives looked dejected and ragged and scared.

  The guard walked over to the women's cage, produced a bunch of keys and unlocked the door. In his free hand he held a heavy cudgel, ready to swipe at anyone who tried to make a dash for freedom, but nobody did. Instead, they shrank back, looking as though they were well used to being hit.

  'I've got a new cell-mate for you,' announced the wiry man. 'She's friendly enough, but she's completely mad.'

  'Ignore him!' cried Princess Kerin. 'I am Princess Kerin of Keladon, the niece of King Septimus. I have been kidnapped against my will. I command you all to rise up and help me.'

  'See what I mean?' said the wiry man. 'Loopy.' He gave the princess an unceremonious push in the back and launched her into the cell with such force that she tripped and fell flat on her face. There was some laughter from the other prisoners. 'Have a nice evening, your majesty,' said the wiry man, bending his skinny body in a mocking bow. 'I trust the accommodation meets with your approval!'

  'How dare you!' screamed the princess, getting back to her feet and throwing herself against the bars. 'You'll pay for this, you wretch! Nobody lays hands on me and gets away with it!' But the guard was already letting the man out of the door and locking it behind him. 'Come back!' she screamed. 'You can't leave me in here!' She turned back to look at the other women, who were keeping as much distance between them?selves and her as the small cage would allow. 'I . . . I realize it sounds like I'm crazy,' she told them, 'but I'm telling the truth. I really am a princess!'

  'Yes, dear,' said a middle-aged woman with lank grey hair. 'And I really am an actress – I'm just between performances!'

  This elicited some laughter among the other prisoners.

  'You must believe me,' pleaded Princess Kerin. 'Surely one of you has been to Keladon. You might have seen me at the royal palace!'

  'I've been to Keladon,' said one ratty-looking little woman, 'and I've seen the princess many times.'

  'Yes? And . . . ?'

  'She didn't look anything like you. She was a handsome girl in a red velvet dress, wearing beautiful jewels.'

  'But that's . . . You have to imagine me in those clothes and then—' The princess broke off. They were all looking at her, and the only expression she saw in their eyes was one of pity – not pity because she was a princess robbed of her birth?right; but because she was clearly quite mad and there was no help for her. She turned away, went over to a corner of the cage and slumped down on her haunches. Covering her face with her hands, she began to cry.

  CHAPTER 25

  IN BRIGANDIA

  As Sebastian, Cornelius and Max moved slowly through the narrow streets of Brigandia, they were aware of eyes staring at them from every window and every doorway.

  It was a deeply unsettling feeling, because none of the people watching them had anything like a friendly demeanour. The Brigands looked at the visitors with open suspicion because they were strangers, and in this city your faces needed to be known, otherwise you were considered a potential enemy. And it wasn't just a few people. Everyone stared, from the groups of ragged barbarians striding by, to the women washing clothing in the communal water trough, to the bands of ragged children playing wild games of tag up and down the street.

  Sebastian had never felt so vulnerable in his life. He glanced down at Cornelius, who was trotting along beside him on Phantom. 'This really isn't my idea of fun,' he said through gritted teeth.

  'Ignore them,' advised Cornelius. 'Just keep your gaze fixed straight ahead. Never look around or they'll think you're afraid of them.'

  'We are afraid of them,' said Max. 'Some of them look like they'd chop you up and roast you over a fire just for the fun of it.'

  Cornelius gave a dismissive snort. 'Remember, they're just Brigands and we are gentlemen. They could never hope to be in our position.'

  'I'll try to remember that when they're attempting to stick a sword into me,' said Sebastian glumly. But, he reminded himself, he was hardly in a position to complain. After all, he was the one who had insisted on mounting this rescue mission in the first place. He just hoped that it wasn't already too late. If the slave auctions had taken place that morning, Princess Kerin might already be on her way to a place of employment and there would be little hope of ever finding her.

  The three friends turned a corner in the main street and found themselves entering a large open square. At the top end of it there was a raised wooden platform with steps leading up to it.

  'This must be the slave market,' said Cornelius. 'But clearly nothing's going on at the moment.' He guided Phantom across the square to a hitching rail and climbed out of the saddle. Sebastian followed suit and Max stood there sniffing the air uncertainly.

  'I don't like this place,' he muttered. 'It smells of despair.'

  Cornelius gazed around thoughtfully. 'Whatever it smells of, this is where they'll be bringing the princess to auction. And this is where we'll have to make our move.' He pointed to a ramshackle building across the way from them. Smoke and noise issued through the open doorway, and above the door there was a painted sign depicting a heavily armed warrior in full battle cry and the words: THE BRIGAND'S ARMS. 'We'll go into that tavern and ask a few questions,' he said.

  As if in warning, there was a sudden crash and a man came hurtling headlong through the window. He hit the dirt road with a loud thud, rolled over a few times and came to rest on his back. He made a half-hearted attempt to sit up but groaned drunkenly, and slumped back unconscious.

  'Clearly a charming establishment,' observed Max. 'You're not seriously thinking of going in there, are you?'

  'A tavern is the best place to get information,' Cornelius told him. 'Everyone knows that. Come on, Sebastian, show them a brave face.'

  The two men started towards the doorway but stopped when they realized that Max was following them.

  'Where do you think you're going?' Sebastian asked him.

  'Into the tavern, of course.'

  'You can't go in there!' protested Cornelius. 'People are staring at us already. What do you think they'd be like if we took you with us?'