Author's note: As promised, here is chapter 3.

All characters are property of Martin Baynton. sigh


Within a few weeks the boy jester and young lady-in-waiting were inseparable. Some days they roamed the hills and valleys surrounding the castle. Only to return late in the afternoon, pockets brimming with juicy, red strawberries. Other days they spent in the castle library. There, the performer shared his love of reading with the little red-head. Though she knew how to read herself, Jane often begged her companion to read aloud. She especially loved hearing the stories of great heroic victories from battles long past. Most often, though, the pair would sit atop the wall and watch as the knights practiced below. The two friends would then run through the garden pretending to be knights themselves. Wooden play swords held aloft, they would ruthlessly battle side by side against the shadow enemies until Jane's mother would inevitably come to quiet their noisy victory cries.

One hot afternoon as they sat lazily in the shade of the cherry tree, Jester pulled out his lute and began to play. Jane idly plucked blades of grass and held them tightly between her thumbs. Puffing out her cheeks, she blew hard attempting to make the piece of grass squeak like Jester had shown her yesterday. Finally giving up, she tilted her head to look sideways at the blue-clad musician.

"What song is that?"

"The court is tired of all the old ballads so the King has ordered me to write him a new one. Only …" the boy bit his lower lip nervously, "I have never written a song before."

"Ooh! I can help!" Jane cried excitedly.

By the time of the evening meal the ballad was finished. For the first time in ages, Jester found he was nervous about performing. Anxiously his grey eyes scanned the tables until he had spotted his little friend. Her bright smile was all the encouragement he needed. With gusto the boy turned to the king and performed the song they had written, a silly little ditty about a cheerful blue jay building its nest. The catchy tune and playful lyrics made it an instant favorite. Within days children in town could be heard singing it as they went about their chores. The young musician would write many more ballads for the king in years to come, but none would ever be as special to him as this first one.

oOo

One night about a month later, having performed until his muscles ached, Jester moved to sit in a corner by the fireplace. The way the flames danced and crackled reminded him of the many bonfires he had experienced with the gypsies. With a start he realized it had been nearly a week since he had even thought of his parents. Heaving a sigh, the boy gave way to the thought that it might be years before he saw any of the gypsies again. Refusing to allow the tears that threatened at his eyes, he fixed his mind on happier things. When they returned, as his mother had promised, Jester wanted his parents to be proud of him. His jaw clinched determinedly as he resolved to work and study as hard as possible that they would see that their decision had been the right one.

Slowly his eyes began to wander over the many faces in the great hall. They had all become familiar to him. He knew just how to pull a smile out of even the sternest old soldier. As his gaze continued around the room, the boy suddenly realized that this place was beginning to feel like home. The thought had come upon him so gradually that it quite surprised him. How could this be home?

A sudden flurry of activity pulled Jester out of his thoughts. One of the ladies-in-waiting had come to take Jane to bed. The girl ran first to give her mother and father a kiss. She then turned to Jester, but instead of wishing him goodnight as was her custom, she gave him a kiss on the cheek as well. The boy immediately scrunched up his nose and attempted to rub the kiss off his face. The entire court burst into laughter at his embarrassment as the little girl was hurried off to her room by a scolding maid. Once the excitement had died down, Jester smiled to himself and realized that while he would never completely forget his family, it was moments like these that made him feel this was indeed home.

End Note: Hopefully this ending is a little less melancholy than the original one. Oh and bonus points if you spot the reference to my other fic "The Blacksmith's Girl". (It's pretty well hidden!)