The jester rode slowly forward, feeling the considerable heat from the burning town even from such a distance. He surveyed the ruined walls, looking beyond through great holes into the town beyond where all was blackened and sooty. The embers still glowed brightly, and fires were in full body at intervals through the town.

The dark man guided horse through the flame cleansed streets, past the marketplace, sparing only the swiftest glance for the church, the only stone building in the town. A few people were huddled at its naked doorway, sitting on the charred steps waiting for salvation from a source they knew not of. Riding slowly on, attracting looks of hatred from the few blackened faces still standing amid the ruins of their former lives, the jester made for the noise of people and not he crack of timbers in the heat of the fire.

The great hall in the centre of the town where the lightening had struck the night before was nothing but a great black space, with the stout timbers pointing crookedly at the sky like the ribs of some giant coal-boned beast. Beyond it, in the fields at the rear of the town, huddled a mass of survivors. They were sitting in small groups, talking quietly in a state of shock after the inevitable fury of the panic the night before. As the jester rode out of the black husk of the town they jeered him, some even standing to confront him. To them, he was the very reason and catalyst for their misfortune.

‘Go thither whence you will, foul demon, but make haste from this place!’ said a man, whom under the grime and soot of the nights work, was the very landlord of the inn which the jester had visited.

‘I shall not do as you ask, you seemingly night-hued patron,’ said the jester, dismounting and leading his horse through the groups of people. They moved out of his way as if he were himself hot. ‘I have not made purchase of this doom for you, yet it was indeed foretold to me.’

‘The knowledge admits guilt even if you do not! I shall take what you owe to the townsfolk from your belongings!’ The man advanced on the jester, but Michael, who stood behind him, bent, burnt and weary, stopped him short.

‘Do not take up arms against he who chooses the guise of the imbecile, for it will only lead to fools being made of us all. Sit, Mr Lillywhite, and allow me to speak with him.’

The man did sit, and Michael walked slowly forward, clearly tried beyond measure by his life. He led the jester by the elbow from the congregation and spoke in hushed tones of one who feels responsibility like pebbles in his shoes.

‘I would not lie and say that I am pleased that you’ve dark tread has led you once more to cross paths with me, sir. You can see what has passed since last we spoke, and for that I shall not offer explanation. I would wish that you would offer what explanation you can concerning both your presence at this time and any knowledge of what may have been the cause of the destruction.’

‘Good Michael, I offer you good greetings. Your kind is showing beyond your mercenary introduction, and so I am much offended that I made gifts to you. Before I explain what I may could I ask that you return that which I presented to you? It is nothing but a personal favour, but I would feel better able to speak to you knowing that you no longer possess the bells.’

Michael looked at him with a frown, but never one to care about such things he handed over the two bells after a slight hesitation. The jester took them and tucked them into his black pouch, looking back to Michael with a more friendly light in his eyes.

‘As to my arrival, I came in mercy after seeing from a high hilltop this town be hit by the hammer of the sky. I knew here dwelt many men, and I wished to see who had survived the strike of the vengeful gods.’

‘Is that so? Do you have a proof of your accusation of the gods involvement? This town has more protection from such forces than many, and I wonder that the defence should be broken. I shall ask of the priest any reason that he can offer. But your arrival in mercy is most welcome, I know not what assistance you may offer but I would ask that your entertaining skill might some into use when the long night draws in.’

‘It may well, good Michael, it may well,’ said the jester, looking hard into the sky with strange foreboding in his dark gaze. ‘Tell me, what course is intended for these people here stranded?’

‘I am to tell them, sir, for they have taken my military expertise to mean I will lead them straight. I cannot turn this duty, but I have little knowledge of the surrounding land.’

‘I know of such a place that may serve your needs, but I have doubt that these people will wish to move such a distance from their former abode.’

‘It may be so. Should their concerns be paid concern?’

‘I think that this place is steeped in such bad feeling that no man should tarry longer than is necessary. To make a town without the fear of the doomed church upon should be your concern if indeed you wish to steer these people. I warn you, should they wish to stay you must allow them the freedom to do so. In this is the founding principle of the new town.’

‘If any wish, it shall be made to pass. Pray, tell me of the destination of which you have spoken.’

‘Tis a town far hence, beyond the moors and to me far beyond dreams and nightmares. In this place dwells a queen to whom no man has been trothed, and there is room enough to occupy all the those seeking refuge.’

‘Well. I shall attempt to convince the assembly of the wisdom of this choice. Will you be reinforcing the choice from my side?’

‘I will observe the choices of the people from a distance, Michael. It is you whom they have appointed their leader and I fear that should it be known I have had a hand in this you will find it harder than you can manage to promote movement of this town.’

‘You dress once more belies your cunning, subtle jester. I shall go and make it so, I trust this will not be the last I shall see of you?’

‘Trust in nothing so transient as arrivals, Michael. I entrust my horse to you for the time being, take good care of the animal for it has seen such things as would cause a stampede if beasts could speak. Until next time our paths in this world cross, farewell.’

‘I shall do as you ask. Good day.’

Michael trudged away, wiping his grimy face with a callused palm. The jester turned the opposite direction and made away into the surrounding woodland.

‘Good people of this tragic town!’ said Michael, standing on a tree stump before the people. From the town, a few lonely souls warily walked out, attracted by the strong voice. ‘You have made me your leader in this time, and for that I am grateful. I warn you now although I am versed in the ways of war I am no wordsmith, and my directions will be in the manner to which I am accustomed. What I say will be clear, and should you listen well and wish to strive for betterment as I do, we shall find things will need but little speech. So, on to the business in hand. Look behind and you will see a burnt town, and man cannot live in a town made of smoke. I propose we search for a site to construct a new town, one in which no deterrent skull will be needed at the gate because there will be little need even for the gate itself. I see this as the way for this town to survive.’

‘Why can we not stay here and rebuild as we have done in the past?’

‘The reason for the continued building is perhaps due to the placement. I mean to speak nothing against whatever you wish to believe, but I have seen the church in the woods, and to me this is a sign of a town rotten in more than the timbers. To go from here is the only way I see to cleanse your minds of the foulness which there dwelt. Look not unto the old church for salvation any longer!’ said Michael harshly, spying a man gazing at the smoking spire of the church amid the ruins of the town. ‘There is nothing there. We must move and make a new beginning away from here. I know of a place, yonder, where we will be able to make a town once more on good earth. The trek will allow us a time to plan what we shall do.’

‘I protest!’ said a thin man. It was the priest of the church. In the woods to the left of the circle the jester looked more attentively at what was happening. ‘How can it be that you shall move away from the seat of our god? Is it not constructive to a strong town to have a patron deity? Your accusations of that church in the woods are well founded, for it is now the dwelling place of demons. I propose that, instead of being driven from this place by foul forces such as that ethereal fool who on occasion makes appearance to us we should demolish all trace of the dark church itself, and in doing so we will make safe this place for our dwelling.’

‘I mean no disrespect to your religion, good guide, but I fail in all attempts to grasp how destruction can be constructive. How do we, without so much as a house to live in, muster strength to smash the stones into such small piece so as to dispel the curse they have placed upon this town?’

There were mutters in the crowd of both agreement and dissent with Michael’s plan. The debate passed to and fro as the sun rode the sky over the burned town and the jester watched quietly from the wood. As evening approached and the darkness spread from it’s breeding grounds in the shadows, the crowd looked around with renewed fear. Michael saw this.

‘See yourselves, good people, looking with fear at the shadows! This is not a way to live good lives, or any kind of life but that of the slave. I ask you what sort of life you want to have, and I will lead those who say freedom away to just that. Those who remain can start at shadows under the protection of your reluctant god until the final day of this world.’

The silence which followed spoke of thought in the crowd, and Michael stepped off the tree stump smiling quietly to himself. All splits were forgotten as night drew in. Michael organised the people as best he knew how into concentric circles with watch fires at intervals and sentries posted though no threat was known. To the townsfolk it seemed strange to do so, but in time they were grateful for the peaceful practise. The jester sat in a tree, playing his silver flute quietly to himself as night drifted by. Under his hood his eyes were smiling.