His serenity was shattered by the loud noise of a galloping horse coming up the path behind him. There was no room to get out of the way, and the jester looked back over his shoulder as he saw the stone skitter over the brink form the approaching horseman. Seeing no alternative but to grow wings, he urged his horse into a gallop to stay ahead of the hasty follower. The tow horses clattered along the mountain path, and the curve of the rock face kept them each out of the others sight until the path widened and began to descend. The jester rode a little further and brought his horse to a rest, looking back to see who had inadvertently chased him off the mountain.

A large horse, decked in barding of red and gold, rode around the centre, snorting and champing at the silver bit in its mouth. The rider was dressed in a full suit of armour and the jester saw this and sighed. He wished to have no dealings with knights. They were always so sure of their course, and on more occasions than not their course steered them wrong.

The jester was about to turn and ride away before he was hailed when he saw that the knight, who he assumed had some skill in the saddle, was riding somewhat lopsidedly and seemed overly concerned with gripping his horses reigns with all his might. Looking more closely the jester watched the helmet loll from side to side as if a head did not wholly inhabit it. All these things clued the jester to what must be so. The knight approached and, rocking to and fro, offered his hand to the jester. The jester reached to take it, but it was quickly withdrawn as the knight slipped a little too far and needed the extra support to maintain a bearing worthy of his title.

‘Good day, sir,’ said the jester, bowing his head in acquiesce to the knight’s manner.

‘Ouf! Say what? Pardon, devilish these helmets for hearing. Sorry?’ On saying this, the knight slowly, but very deliberately, slipped from the side of his horse and fell the ground with a clatter of armour plates and a howl as his foot got caught fast in the stirrup. From there, he pulled the helmet off and looked up at the jester. He struck the jester as a boy of sixteen, smooth of face and smiling too widely to have seen the world.

‘Greetings, sir,’ said the boy. ‘I am Sir Ciril.’

‘I have a doubt that the title you assume was presented by anyone of the worldly realms,’ said the jester, dismounting and helping the boy to his feet. He stood half a foot shorter than the jester, and the collar of the armour cut his face off just below the nose, giving the unmistakable impression of one more fitting of the name Fool. ‘Well, sir knight, whence do you travel with such impetuous haste as to endanger travellers on the self same road as you pass on? The need must be great to push such a beast so hard,’ said the jester, looking at he large horse who was approaching his own beast with haughty look. The boy held the helmet under his arm, looking up that the jester with bright eyes.

‘I go to fight in the wars against the South.’

‘Forwhy has man declared hostility to a direction, Sir Ciril?’

‘I speak of the southern tyrant. He to whom men flee in search of death.’

‘Can you put a name to this man who has plainly earned your hatred.’

‘Hatred, sir? I hate no man until I have met him and he has insulted my family or me.’

‘Then you are wise beyond your years, sir. If this is so, why do you go so far to fight a man you have no knowledge of?’

‘Because, oh nameless fool, this man has my hatred pinned to him.’

‘How, if by the distance your acquaintance is to be measured?’

‘This man did do most terrible things to my sister and mothers.’

‘Forgive me, methinks I misheard you. Mothers? You are young, but I do not believe you are without such knowledge concerning the very sum of mothers you have. Only a single bearer is required.’

‘You no naught of me or my doings, sir. Is it not true that a mother is she who makes the world a better place?’

‘I have heard it said,’ nodded the jester, intrigued.

‘The how can you scorn one who has not one, but three such people. I needed for nothing until they left, and now I go to avenge them.’

‘Vengeance? A strong cause for one so early to the world. Pray, why has this faceless man invited the most destructive of emotions?’

‘I shall explain my cause, sir, but we must find shelter for a mountain is no place to be when the sky vies with the rock to see whom is the harder.’

‘Tis so. Let us depart hence.’

The two mounted their horses and rode slowly down the mountain and into the valley, with no growth of green on either hand they turned once more to the tale of the child.

‘My father, a knight of great standing, made arrangements with the tyrant to have us taken there for a time. His reasons were unclear but I fear they sprung from unrest within the very walls of our castle. We were removed thus, my three mothers, my sister and I. The journey to the southlands was dangerous and fraught with disaster of every kind. It is on this trip that I learned through many a hard lesson to handle a blade and ride a horse passing well.’

‘Ay, passingly so,’ smirked the jester as the boy clung to the reigns and the horse snorted it’s complaint.

‘Arrival at the desert city which served this man as his capital was delayed by some weeks by bandits and other mishaps, and when finally we arrived the man did not greet us. The city we arrived at was silent but for a few camels and a bell tolling from one of the many domes which graced the town. With no chance of rescue I made us safe as best I could amidst the deserted city, and there we passed a most uncomfortable week, searching for scraps of food from the houses round about. No word was heard or seen of the inhabitants of the city, and if you saw it you would wonder where such a great volume of people may pass unnoticed. I took to searching farther and deeper into the cellars and towers of the city to find some clue to the demise or destination of the man I supposed would protect us should we find him. I found nothing of use. Maps, and many book written in such script as I could become a monk and spend a lifetime in translation without finding any information. My mothers were falling sick from the lack of proper nourishment. I did as I could, and I regret to say that when finally I left there were many less camels than first there had been. Still it came to no avail, and one by one my mothers faded before my eyes and died there in that hellish hot place. I can only hope that their final resting place was cooler.

My sister took their loss greatly to heart and cowered long in the shadows. I would that she may have remained there, for when she emerged next she was taken.’

Ciril lapsed into silence until the jester prompted.

‘Taken? By whom in such a deserted city?’

‘I know not the nature of the kidnappers. I know nothing more than When I returned she was gone, and horse tracks led out of the gateway. I harbour no doubt that the grand villain is behind her capture, though I know not why.

So I was left alone in a deserted city with nothing to eat, nothing to drink and, unfortunately, nothing to ride to escape from it’s fingerless grasp.’

The boy rode in silence for a time; clearly disturbed by the memories he was dredging up. The sun cast their horse far ahead when he spoke once more.

‘I gather what I could, both food, water and those book I guessed to be of use, and set out over the desert on foot. My good man, have you ever travelled for a time in the desert?’

‘I do not travel as other men, and heat affects me as wind affects the mountain. For you it plainly was not so. Say on.’

‘Three days I walked over hills made of sand in which each footprint lasts but a second. The horizon promised me nothing but the same, and in every direction I looked there was such distance that I thought I would quake to see the open again. The sun you see, so soft and orange there in the distance, in the desert is a flame. A flame in the sky, inescapable and terrible.

On the third day from the city my resolve failed me, and I regret to say I could go not further nor do no more. No man could be expected to. There and then I died in that deserted place. I have no memory nor knowledge of the time which passed, if indeed any did. I think it may not have been so because I have no doubt that had time marched on without me I would have been left there where I fell.

I awoke in the care of desert people, good men who tend their camels and travel the trackless wastes with precision. It is to these men I owe my life, and to them I go now to repay the debt before I go to confront he who slew my mothers and kidnapped my sister.’

The jester let this pass, for he knew that there was something more than he had been told.

‘I was healed in the desert just as I died there, and when I left them I was a boy no longer. Homeward bound I travelled with mixed company but always I heard whispers of a war. The first time I heard about it was from a retreating archer on the eastward road by the lakes. He told me in passing of a great battle which had taken place, and that I must flee because an invasion was already underway. I took heed, and rode ever faster from there, although I saw no evidence for a war near or far. In time the war had surrounded me, being all at once to the north, east, south and west. To believe the stories I would have been a lone island in the centre of a grand battle embracing the entire world. But it was not so, I counted no corpse and saw no battlegrounds. The phantom armies who made these battles their employ passed without noise or tremble. I made haste to our castle, hoping to see my father once more and tell him of what I had seen and done that he may grant me my Errantry that I might return and seek the cause of my mothers death.’

Once more the boy was silent, and the sun dipped its golden toe beneath the dark rim of the mountains. Evening closed in, and the two riders made meagre camp in a small woodland by the roadside. The jester sat up long into the night looking deeply into the fire and wondering just what was happening in the world that could cause cities to empty and perpetual shadow wars to rage. Even as he thought on these things his mind turned back to the plight of Michael and his charges. Where, if the tales turned even partly true, would he find rest now? Surly the castle that was to be their destination would be hardened to charity in this uncertain time? The jester stirred the embers and looked carefully at the sleeping suit of armour which, but for the head of hair instead of a face, could have been an effigy of a long dead hero. He lay back and looked at the stars far above before closing his eyes to the world.