A Buffalope's Tale Read online

  ‘I can work,’ I said. ‘To earn my keep.’

  Alexander waved a hand dismissively.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. We’ll see how it goes when you’re properly healed. For the time being, just think about getting better.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said again. ‘Your skins . . . I never see skins like these before.’

  ‘Skins?’

  He looked puzzled, then glanced down at himself.

  ‘Oh, you mean my clothes! This is a jester ’s outfit. That’s my trade.’ He glanced at Sarah. ‘At least, I hope it will be. It’s early days yet.’

  I gazed up at him from my place on the straw.

  ‘Please . . . what is this . . . jayster?’

  Alexander grinned self-consciously.

  ‘I suppose it wouldn’t mean very much to a buffalope,’ he agreed. ‘A jester is a man who makes a fool of himself for a living. You know, tells jokes, prances about, falls over . . . that kind of thing.’

  ‘I have seen humans like this,’ I admitted. ‘But I not know they get paid for it.’

  Alexander laughed out loud.

  ‘That’s very good!’ he said. ‘If you don’t mind, I might borrow that.’

  ‘You are welcome,’ I said, not really understanding what he meant.

  ‘Of course, I’m not really getting paid all that much at the moment,’ said Alexander, ‘because I’m just starting out. But I hope, in time, that I will become famous, like Jonathan Jolly.’

  ‘Jon-ath-on Joelie?’ I echoed. ‘Who is this?’

  ‘You’ve not heard of him? Oh, he’s famous! The master of mirth, the king of comics, the lord of laughter! He’s absolutely rolling in it!’

  ‘Rolling in what?’ I asked. ‘Mud?’

  ‘No! In money. Why, it’s said that the Royal Court of Jerebim pay him three gold crowns for every appearance.’

  ‘Money isn’t everything,’ Sarah told him. ‘And I think you’re every bit as funny as Jonathan Jolly. Funnier, in fact. But he’s been around forever. It takes time to build a reputation’

  ‘Not too long, I hope,’ said Alexander. ‘We’ve debts mounting up and tradesmen won’t wait forever to be paid.’

  ‘You’ll get there,’ Sarah assured him. And she leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  I have to tell you, it did my heart good to see a young couple so much in love with each other. I told myself I had been very lucky to find two Uprights as kind and giving as the Darkes. And, from that very moment, I began to get better.

  Chapter 11

  A Brand New Start

  In just a few days Alexander was able to get me back onto my feet and he led me out into the paddock he had spoken of, which, as he had promised, was full of sweet green grass. Which was lucky, because, I don’t mind telling you, I was starving. And in the paddock, I found Betty waiting for me.

  She was a nice old girl, there’s no two ways about it. As soon as I arrived, she was there, using the common language of the plains to enquire after my health and saying how worried she’d been when she’d first laid eyes on me. When she found out what had happened to my parents, tears came into her lovely brown eyes and I think from that moment she saw herself as my foster mother, always looking out for me and even offering me a warm flank to snuggle against when the nights were cold.

  She told me that she had worked for Alexander for many years and his father before him. She said that Alexander was quite the nicest master an equine could hope to have and that he had never so much as raised his voice to her, let alone a whip. When I told her about Ebenezer and poor Brutus, she was quite disgusted.

  ‘I’m afraid there are many humans like that,’ she admitted. ‘We should be thankful that we have ended up with two of the best of them.’

  ‘So, what’s this jester stuff all about?’ I enquired as I munched a mouthful of grass. ‘Alexander did try to explain it to me, but I didn’t really follow what he was saying.’

  Betty snorted.

  ‘It is very odd,’ she said. ‘As I understand it, the humans like to have a good laugh. So much so, that they are willing to pay money for it. You . . . understand what money is, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes, the little round shiny things? My old master, Ebenezer, was very fond of that stuff.’

  She nodded.

  ‘So, my master puts on his costume and he travels to a place where there are lots of humans . . . say a tavern or a town square. And he gets up in front of them and, er . . . he talks to them.’

  I looked at her.

  ‘That’s it?’ I said. ‘He talks to them?’

  ‘Well yes, and he falls about a bit and looks stupid, but mostly he just talks, and what he says must be pretty funny, because people start to laugh and, when he’s finished talking, he goes around with his jester ’s hat and some of the people throw coins into it.’

  ‘What does he talk about, exactly?’

  Betty sighed.

  ‘I don’t really know. I’ve never mastered the human tongue. I can understand the odd word, but that’s all.’

  She thought for a moment.

  ‘I think he talks about people in the town and says things to make them look silly.’

  ‘And they pay him for that?’ I shook my head. ‘Takes all kinds, I suppose.’

  Those early days with the Darke family were among the happiest and most leisurely of my life. There wasn’t much to do but eat the grass in the paddock and grow in size and strength, which I did very effectively. Every morning, Alexander would come out to harness Betty to the wagon, in order to travel to his next performance and this was my opportunity to engage my master in conversation, something which he seemed to enjoy. He never failed to be delighted by the fact that he had a buffalope that could talk; and he encouraged me to learn more and more of the human tongue.

  The months passed and winter came. Betty and I were moved into the nice snug stables and were given bundles of hay to eat. Alexander and Sarah often spent hours talking to me, while the cold winds raged outside and Betty snoozed in the stall next to me.

  By this time, I had pretty much reached my adult size and was speaking fluent human. I understood a lot more about Alexander ’s line of work by now and he had fallen into the habit of trying out his new material on me. He always maintained that if he could get me to laugh, then he could get anyone to do so. I don’t like to boast, but, even in those early days, I was helping him to refine and develop the material that, in due course, would make him the Prince Of Fools, one of the most celebrated jesters in the land.

  ‘Right, Max,’ he would say, ‘see what you think of this lot.’

  And he would begin . . .

  ‘Did you hear about the brigand who insisted on taking a bath every time he committed a robbery?’

  ‘No Master; why did he do that?’

  ‘So he could make a clean getaway!’

  (A dreadful joke, I know, but Alexander had a way of telling the most unpromising jokes and making them funny. It was something to do with his voice and his expression and the insane grin on his face as he told it.)

  ‘Two lupers are eating a jester. One says to the other, “Does this taste funny to you?”’

  ‘Ah yes, not bad!’

  I liked to give him the odd bit of encouragement; it seemed to spur him on.

  ‘A man goes to see a doctor, complaining that he feels terrible. The doctor examines him and says that he’s got a fatal illness. The man is horrified. “How long have I got?” he asks. “You’ve got ten,” says the doctor. “Ten?” cries the man. “Do you mean ten months, ten weeks, ten days . . . what?” The doctor ignores him and carries on talking, “nine – eight – seven . . .”’

  ‘Oh, I see! Very comical!’

  ‘Here’s another one. Why is six afraid of seven?’

  ‘I don’t know, Master.’

  ‘Because seven ate nine!’

  And so it went on. These were wonderful days. I was a young bull in my prime, I had chanced upon two of the nicest humans y
ou could ever hope to meet, I had no responsibilities and I could see no reason why the situation should ever change. The trials and tribulations of my early days seemed far away and, for the most part, I was content with my life.

  But, if I have learned one thing in my many years, it is simply this. Nothing stays the same for very long. It is the changes in our lives that make us what we are and, once again, things were about to happen that would send me in a different direction.

  Chapter 12

  Partners

  It happened the following spring. Betty and I had been out of the barn and in the paddock for several weeks and I began to notice that she wasn’t quite her usual self. She would come back from one of Alexander ’s appearances and she’d be quite out of breath; no sooner had she eaten a mouthful of her evening meal, than she’d be off in her favourite corner, fast asleep and snoring.

  I noticed too that, whereas she used to be up at first light, waiting eagerly for Alexander ’s approach, now she tended to sleep on until he was at the gate, calling her.

  One evening, after feeding us both, Alexander hung around, chatting to me about this and that, seemingly in no hurry to go into the house. He waited until Betty was asleep and then he starting talking with more purpose.

  ‘Have you noticed any difference in Betty, lately?’ he asked.

  I nodded.

  ‘She seems to be tired all the time,’ I said. ‘It’s a shame, because I really used to look forward to our conversations in the evening and now I never seem to exchange more than a few words with her.’

  ‘She’s not getting any younger,’ he said.

  I gave him a questioning look. Humans have a tendency to say stupid things, from time to time. Of course she wasn’t getting younger, none of us were, but I let the comment pass. What he was really saying was that Betty was getting old and I couldn’t really argue the point.

  ‘I’m beginning to think that it might be time to let her have a good rest,’ continued Alexander.

  An alarming thought flashed across my mind. I thought of Brutus’s mother, and the ‘rest home’ she had been sent to; but then I looked at Alexander and knew that he would not dream of pulling such a cruel trick on Betty. With Alexander Darke – at least in those days

  – cruelty was something he hadn’t the first idea about.

  ‘Indeed, Master, I’d say she deserves one,’ I said.

  He frowned.

  ‘I’ve told you before, you don’t have to call me that. Alexander will do just as well.’

  ‘It pleases me to call you Master,’ I assured him. ‘Rest assured, if I did not wish to call you that, nothing would ever get me to say it . . . even if you were to stick lighted tinder sticks into my hooves.’

  ‘I’m sure it won’t come to that,’ he said. ‘But, about Betty . . .’

  ‘Well, as I was saying. She has earned herself a rest, of that I’m sure. I know she has worked hard for you for many years . . . and your father before you.’

  Alexander nodded.

  ‘Problem is,’ he said, ‘who could I find to take her place? It would have to be somebody strong, dependable . . . and fearless.’

  ‘Fearless?’ I murmured.

  ‘Oh yes, sometimes I have to travel through lawless territory to get to a performance. There are encounters with brigands, conmen, wild beasts . . . all kinds of peril. But you know, creatures as reliable as Betty are very hard to find.’

  I gazed at him for a moment, wondering why he wouldn’t just come out and ask me.

  ‘Well, Master,’ I said. ‘In the absence of any alternatives, I wonder if you would consider me?’

  ‘You?’

  He looked at me, as though the idea hadn’t even occurred to him.

  ‘Oh, but Max, I couldn’t ask you to haul that heavy caravan.’

  ‘Why ever not?’ I asked him. ‘I’m fully grown now, and stronger than Betty ever was. I could pull that thing for miles without turning a hair.’

  ‘Yes, but . . . well, you have already told me of the dread you have of menial work. How you ran away from your previous master when you found out you were going to have to grind drabnat fruit.’

  I snorted.

  ‘There is a big difference,’ I told him. ‘For one thing, I had no choice in the matter of grinding fruit. I was to be chained to that wheel for life, like it or lump it. This would be something I chose to do, a way of thanking you and Mistress Sarah for helping me and keeping me warm and fed. And for another thing . . .’

  He looked at me with interest.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I think I could be of use to you.’

  ‘Really?’

  He was smiling but he seemed to be taking my words seriously enough.

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, Master, I like to think of myself as a pretty good judge of what’s funny and what’s not. I could advise you on your routines as we went along. I could help you hone and develop your material. And, not only that . . .’

  ‘Go on,’ he said.

  ‘Well, you’ve often commented on the fact that talking animals such as myself are quite rare.’

  ‘Certainly ones that talk as eloquently as you,’ he agreed. ‘And as relentlessly.’

  ‘Quite! Think what a wonderful . . . oh, what’s the word you use . . . grimmick, grommick . . . ?’

  ‘Gimmick?’ suggested Alexander.

  ‘Yes, exactly! Whenever we approached a town or city, I could announce you! “This way to see Alexander Darke, the famous jester!” I would cry. I tell you, they’d come running like mutts after a straggler. Can you imagine a better way of publicising yourself?’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  Alexander looked thoughtful.

  ‘So, what you’re proposing is not just the usual master and beast relationship. It would be more of a . . . partnership.’

  ‘A partnership,’ I said quietly. ‘I rather like the sound of that.’

  ‘Well, then,’ said Alexander. ‘I think we have a deal, Max. We’ll start first thing tomorrow morning. Which leaves you tonight to break the news to Betty.’

  ‘I . . . beg your pardon?’

  I looked at him in alarm.

  ‘Me?’ I gasped. ‘Oh, but . . . couldn’t you do it, Master?’

  But he was already out of the paddock and strolling towards the house.

  ‘It’ll be better coming from you,’ he assured me.

  It was one of the first occasions when I discovered that, charming as he was, there was a certain slippery quality to Alexander Darke. And he had dropped me right in the brown stuff.

  Chapter 13

  Breaking The News

  The hours went by as I pondered my dilemma. Betty was a good friend and companion; I certainly didn’t want to upset her, or make her feel that I had stolen her purpose in life. I couldn’t bear to think of her being angry or resentful towards me. After all, hadn’t she accepted me without hesitation when I’d been brought into her paddock? She had been so kind and generous and it seemed a mean way to repay her, by telling her that she was now surplus to requirements.

  I fussed and fretted until I felt I could put it off no longer. Taking a deep breath, I walked quietly across the paddock and stood over Betty, watching her sleep. Then I cleared my throat, but that did no good at all. I prodded her flank gently with my snout. Nothing. I prodded her harder. Finally, with a grunt, she woke up and lifted her head to gaze blearily at me. ‘Oh, Max,’ she said. ‘It’s you. Whatever ’s wrong?’ ‘Betty,’ I said. ‘I apologise for waking you, but there’s

  a matter of some urgency I must discuss with you. It’s come to my attention that you’ve been looking very tired lately.’

  She gave me a sharp look. ‘You woke me up to say that I’ve been looking tired?’ she said. ‘Little wonder!’

  ‘Er . . . yes, well, hear me out. I have decided that tomorrow morning, you should be allowed to have the luxury of a nice long lie-in.’

  ‘I hardly think so,’ she said. ‘The master will
be calling for me at first light, as he always does.’

  ‘Er . . . well, no, there’s the thing. I thought, tomorrow morning . . . just for a change, I would pull the caravan and leave you here to slumber in peace.’

  ‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ she said. ‘ You know, I wouldn’t mind. . .’

  She broke off and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  ‘Just a moment,’ she said. ‘He’s asked you to take over from me, hasn’t he? The master has decided that I’m too old and broken down to pull that caravan any more.’

  I began to panic.

  ‘Er . . . goodness, Betty, whatever gave you that idea? No, we just thought, the master and me, that you had earned a bit of a breather. You know, a chance to get yourself back to your old fighting form.’

  ‘Nonsense! He thinks I’m over the hill. He’s trading me in for a newer, younger model.’

  ‘Not at all, Betty, the very idea! Why, he just wants to . . .’

  But I broke off as I registered the look on Betty’s long and elegant face. It was an expression of sheer delight.

  ‘About ruddy time!’ she cried.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I thought he’d never ask. I’ve been struggling to pull that flipping caravan for the last year and, when you started getting to a decent size, I thought perhaps you might offer, but no, nothing was said, and I had to go on struggling well past the time when such work was within my capabilities. Now, finally, I’m getting the chance to have a rest. Hooray, that’s what I say!’

  I stared down at her in amazement.

  ‘Then you . . . don’t mind?’

  ‘Mind? I’m delighted! Just be sure you don’t make too much noise when you set off tomorrow; I’m planning on having a nice, long lie-in. Oh and a word to the wise, Max, you’ll find that caravan pulls a little to the left; you’ll have to compensate for that by leaning to the right. You’ll get the hang of it in no time.’

  ‘Umm . . . right then. No problem. I’ll er . . . let you get back to sleep, shall I?’