[b]Written by
Christopher James Rushton
The Jester of Dun Deage
Flat footed, short of leg and sporting a huge fiery bush of red hair, the court jester danced and joked before his audience. His clothes and belled hat befitted his clownish demeanour and with every joke, tale and song, his audience roared and chuckled with laughter.
The king of the Nether Regions, for that’s what he was, almost fell from his throne whilst holding his sides with mirth. Regaining his composure and after ordering another flagon of mead he bellowed. “Come forth and kneel before thy King, jester” The court was suddenly silent for the King had spoken and everyone knew what a critical, self-righteous and bombastic man he could be, hence the nickname that he had become known by. The lowly serf skipped over to the throne where the King of the Nether Regions sat, and then prostrated himself humbly. With a drunken laugh and a giggle, the King swayed to his feet and took his sword from its scabbard. He touched the jester on each shoulder and proclaimed to the audience. “With this sword I thee dub and from hence forth, for thy services to thy King and Kingdom, thou shall be known throughout the land as, Sir Duckfoot of Dun Deage! Arise, sir Duckfoot!” The King of the Nether Regions bellowed with laughter and the whole court followed suit. The lowly jester knew not what a knighthood was and couldn’t really care. All that he cared about was the laughter, the merriment and the smiles on people’s faces as he travelled from court to court plying his trade. He had even, unwittingly foiled great battles with his singing and storytelling on the ramparts of the town. The attacking enemy would be reduced to such mirth and merriment that, by the time that they had reached the town walls, they would be laughing so hard that they would forget why they had come to Dun Deage. Then, go hence forth to whence they came.
Over the ensuing years the King of the Nether Regions, for that is what he acted like, exploited the talents of Sir Duckfoot the jester. The lowly serf had become famous in every corner of the land and the rich were prepared to pay a King’s ransom to be entertained by Sir Duckfoot. As the gold and wealth poured into the royal coffers, the King got greedier and greedier until one day; he called for Sir Duckfoot to attend an audience with the King.
The years and the pressure of entertaining night after night had not been kind to Sir Duckfoot. His once fiery mane, now streaked with grey, looked lifeless and dull. The tired bags under his eyes gave him a sad worn out look but, for all that, he still lived for laughter, happiness and the smiles on people’s faces. He was prepared to entertain every day and night knowing that he would bring joy to one and all and as he entered the great feasting hall, the King of the Nether Regions bellowed down from his mighty throne. “Come hence and kneel before thy King, Sir Duckfoot” As the jester shuffled toward him, the King gave a stifled chuckle. “Do you know jester? That name that I gave you all those years ago, it still makes me laugh” Sir Duckfoot of Dun Deage, bowed before the King of the Nether Regions, not knowing or caring that he had, all of these years been the brunt of the sarcastic, critical and pompous ways of the King of the Nether Regions.
“What be your pleasure your Majesty?” The jester asked.
“I have been thinking” Said the King. “You are getting a little long in the tooth for all of this travelling to and fro. It seems like an age since I was entertained by your antics. What say you?”
“I am yours to command your Majesty, Whatever your wish, be mine also” said the jester meekly.
The King looked deep in thought for a moment then asked the jester. “How would you like to spend a little more time in Dun Deage instead of travelling all over the kingdom?”
Sir Duckfoot looked up at the King and asked. “But your majesty, what are we to do about the happiness of the people?”
“I have given that a lot of thought” said the scheming King. “You can stay in your quarters and write down your stories and ditties. Turn all of your works into a book and we can distribute copies of it nationwide. That way, you can entertain everyone at once!”
The Nether Region of a King omitted to mention the amount of wealth that he would make from the sales of the copies.
The poor jester knelt before his King, face aghast and nervously proclaimed. “I am afraid your Highness that I do not possess the power of the written word” the court went silent and fearing the wrath of the Nether Region of a King, prostrated themselves before him.
Sir Duckfoot of Dun Deage, proffered some of his script to the King and remarked humbly. “You see, you’re Majesty, I can understand the scribbling and the marks that I have made on the paper before you but, there is no one else in the land that could make neither head nor tale of them”
The King rose from his throne in the foulest of humours and the sound of his sceptre crashing into the stone floor was like the sound of thunder. “You dare to deny your King his requests?” He bellowed, and the whole court quaked in their boots.
“Forgive me, I am but a lowly jester and have no will to upset you but, I am unable to perform the magic of the scribe” Said Sir Duckfoot. “Maybe you can find a learned fellow that can interpret my work for you” He suggested.
The King called for the guards to escort Sir Duckfoot to the town dungeons, and ordered the court to scour the land for a scribe that could make sense of the illiterate scribbling of the buffoon.
No one person could be found that was willing to face the wrath of the King of the Nether Regions and so the lowly jester remained in his cell. He felt demoralised and worthless due to the cynical and critical ways of the king and the remainder of his days were spent in self tuition trying to appease him. Scratching away at the walls that imprisoned him, the scribbling eventually began to form words. Words that most people could understand but there were still issues with spelling, grammar and punctuation. The years seemed to fly by as Sir Duckfoot found his legs, writing story, poem and ditty on the walls until he finally ran out of space. Every inch of the cell was a mass of new work and then, he smiled to himself and put down his scratching tool. Sir Duckfoot of Dun Deage, walked over to his rotting cot and went to sleep for the last time.
The King of the Nether Regions had found himself a more sordid form of entertainment and eventually died of boredom and syphilis.
The ensuing years saw a distinct lack of good humour in the growing city of Dun Deage. It became a place of pestilence and disease and many poor souls lost their lives to such terrible things as the plague. Then, one day, there stood a mighty army of royalists, away to the south, beyond the city defences.
There was no merriment or laughter. There were no silly stories or songs to reduce the enemy to hysterics and the town was razed to the ground. The city’s defences were demolished and men, women and children lay dead or dying in the flames as Dun Deage burned. Dozens of ships lay at anchor in the Silvery Tay. Each one sat low in the water, heavily laden with the spoils of war. Eventually, peace was returned to Dun Deage. The locals, begrudgingly, accepted the ruling of the royals, and the next few hundred years saw prosperity for the city. Children once more began to laugh and sing. Men in taverns would join in with merry stories and songs and yet, no one could remember the origins of the tunes and words. The reasons for the happy banter seemed to have been there forever and the stories of Sir Duckfoot of Dun Deage became myth and fable.
May 2013
“My name is Tony Robinson and welcome to Time Team. We are here today in the cultural city of Dundee to try to unearth some of the mysteries of this glorious city’s medieval past. Not a lot is known about the ancient history of this city formally known as Dun Deage and yet, it is steeped in myth and legend. One mystery that surrounds the city is the legend of the knighted jester, Sir Duckfoot of Dun Deage. Is he Myth, fable or fact? Time Team have just three days in which to find out” Cue music.
Tony came back on the screen after the intro and explained to the viewers; “geophysics has revealed the remains of the city’s outer defensive walls where, in trench one, we find Rachel beavering away. Tell us Rachel, what have you discovered?”
“Well Tony” Rachel looked up from her digging and proffered a small handful of pottery shards. “We have got down to the natural and apart from a lot of burning and these few pieces of medieval pottery, there doesn’t seem to be a lot left. The royalists must have done a really good job of destroying the old city” She said in an exasperated tone.
Trench two also revealed very little, other than the devastating way in which the ancient city had been destroyed.
Tony looked forlornly toward the screen and said almost sadly. “Will we ever be able to uncover the mysteries of this town? We’ll see. Please join us after the break” Cue music.
Tony Robinson came back on the screen and filled the viewers in on the proceedings. “It is now day two, and it was beginning to look like we were on a fruitless mission to unravel the history of Dundee but, I have just seen Phil waving excitedly from trench three. Let’s go over and see what has got him so exited” Tony ran over to the lip of the trench and asked Phil what all the commotion was about. Phil replied in his West Country bur. “Well Tony. Arfter geophysics revealed a huge anomaly, we desoyded to put in a test pit”
“And did the test pit show any signs of what we are after?” Tony asked.
“Oh arh!” exclaimed Phil. “oy’m almost there. A little more cleanin’ an you’ll be able to see fer’ yer’ self”
Tony walked away and waffled on in the style of all good television presenters. “Please come back after the break for day three of Time Team and see what has got Phil so worked up” Cue music.
After the commercial break, Tony Robinsons face once more filled the screen. “Welcome back to day three of Time Team where Phil, seems to be finally unearthing one of Dundee’s hidden treasures. What have we found Phil?”
Phil looked up from his trench, his lank hair matted to his face and the brim of his hat wet with sweat and said. “Woy don’t you come an take a look fer yer self Tony” So Tony descended excitedly to the floor of the trench.
The dirt and debris had painstakingly been cleared from the walls and floor to reveal, the scribbling of Sir Duckfoot of Dun Deage. Tony remarked in an exasperated tone. “What are you showing our viewers Phil? Surely all of these marks are plain gibberish?”
“Ah no!” Exclaimed Phil in his West Country bur. “Maybe to the untrained oye, that wot they be but, our expert says that this is definitely the work of the knoyted jester an, it would appear that he suffered from an early form of Dyslexia! If we believe the myths and legends, it would appear that the poor man rotted in this cell because of the ignorance of his peers. We know that it is his work, for some of the stories still told to this day match the writing on these ere walls”
Tony came back into view and thanked Phil for his gallant efforts. “Thank you Phil and thanks to the people of Dundee for allowing us into their fair city. Over the last three days we have uncovered one of the many myths that surround this city of great culture and, who knows? One day, we may be invited back to find out the true name of the King of the Nether Regions. So, it’s goodbye from Time Team, goodbye from me and its goodbye from Dundee. But before we go we would like to leave you with an extract from Sir Duckfoots work, told to you by Dundee’s very own chief historian. Goodbye!
The silvery river Tay
Behold the wee bairns,
That play on the banks,
Of the silvery river Tay.
Behold the fishermen,
That catch our Suppers,
Each and every day.
Behold the mist,
That roll eth in.
From the sea so cold and grey.
Behold the gulls cry’
As it swoops for scraps,
As the tide duth roll away.
Behold the joys a plenty,
Brought forth for us all,
On the silvery river Tay.
By Sir Duckfoot of Dun Deage
Cue music. roll credits.
Christopher James Rushton
