Colour tattoo of a cartoon jester holding a pistol, in red, black and purple with a harlequin diamond pattern, on a calf.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Jester with pistol on a calf

Neo-trad · Calf · Colour · Photo

A cartoon-style jester in a red and black harlequin costume, with a purple hood and white face, holds a black pistol over one shoulder. Bold dark outlines and smooth shading give the figure volume, and a diamond pattern fades out at the base. Saturated red, purple and black ink dominate, with small areas of grey and white, set against pale skin.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Snow had sealed the Hollin Gate Inn since Tuesday, and the lamps were burning low when old Peregrine Doyle set his stick against the hearth and announced that the jester had come in by the chimney again. Nobody believed him, which was how he liked it. Forty years on the coaching roads had taught him that a room full of doubters leans in closer than a room full of believers.

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The jester was called Mab Ferrier, though she signed her bills Captain Cinder. Her pistol was made of painted tin and fired a paper flag that read BANG. She had arrived in Lowther Vale with a wagon of stolen wedding cake and a mule that would not stop singing hymns. The magistrate there kept a strongbox under his bed, a dinner party of forty guests below it, and a habit of wearing his wig to sleep.

At midnight she crept across the roof in the blizzard, slid down the flue in her red and black diamonds, and stepped into the dining hall with the tin pistol raised. 'Hands where I can see them, gentlemen,' she said. The magistrate raised his hands, his wig came off with them, and the whole room burst out laughing. She took the strongbox, opened it on the table, and read every love letter inside aloud in a sweet falsetto, until the magistrate's own wife was weeping into the soup.

Peregrine knocked his pipe out on the grate. 'Her footprints in the morning went out through the front door,' he said, 'and came back in through the stable, and the mule was wearing the magistrate's wig. Nobody ever saw her leave. Some say she's still up on that roof, waiting for the thaw to see who laughs first.'

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