Trivulo the Jester hated his master King Onomo. He had had many masters before in many different castles, but none so harsh as Onomo. Kicked and ridiculed, beaten and maimed, Trivulo the Jester had a vengeance to make before he left the castle. The opportunity met him one day when the King’s spoiled young child was upset and wanted a book to read.

On a day when Onomo was feeling less ill-disposed toward his jester, and was in a good mood, he spoke to Trivulo. “You have had many masters before, in many different castles, Trivulo my Jester, and your skills with the pen and brush are adequate,” commented Onomo, “I want you to write me an illustrated book for my son which tells him of all the great castles you know, including this one. Make it obvious that he lives in the most important castle of them all.”

Trivulo ground his teeth, because he hated to hear his exceptional skills trivialised as “adequate”. But now at least he knew how to wreak his revenge. He went away and prepared the book as ordered. His brilliant memory meant that he could draw in the greatest detail every room in every castle he had seen and the illustrations were beautiful and varied, of fifty different castles. At last he came to King Onomo’s castle, and he did it even more justice than he had the other fifty. But in it he put his terrible revenge. Research with the servants, explorations of his own and things he overheard from the King and his courtiers informed him enough to know of all the secret passages and initimate details of the castle and he included these as well. The King’s clandestine bunker to which he would flee if the castle fell, the escape routes and concealed cavern entrances which led to the lower levels of the keep, nothing was left out.

When Trivulo presented the King with this book, Onomo flicked through it and did not notice this dangerous amount of detail, happily handing it to his son.

Then Trivulo disappeared.

Recently, a servant girl, a nanny who was looking after the King’s young son, vanished without trace. She seemed not to steal anything of importance: no silver or jewelry, just a large, colourful book from the Prince’s nursery shelf.

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