Knight Quest (Time Hunters, Book 2) (5 page)

She laughed and said, “Brace yourself, Lord Bullypants!”

Before the man could even raise his bow, Isis whizzed her sling round twice and released her stone. It sped across the clearing…
thunk!
… and found its mark. The villager clutched at his foot and started to hop around.

“Ow!” he said.

Isis pretended to sniff the air. “Does anyone else smell that?” she said, grinning at Al. “The sweet scent of victory!”

One by one, King Arthur sent forward villagers to duel against Isis. She was a crack shot. Each man ended up clutching at bruised ribs, arms and legs.

Isis looked over at King Arthur to see if he was watching.

Sure enough, he was staring straight at her!

“Pretty good, yes?” she boasted, aiming at an archer, who was sprinting and tumbling round the clearing to avoid being hit by her.

But suddenly Isis pulled back her sling and the fabric ripped.

“AARGH! USELESS!” she shouted in frustration. “These bits of cloth aren't fit to line a bird's nest!” Isis threw her sling onto the ground and stamped on it. She felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and turned round.

“King Arthur!” she said.

He looked down at her and shook his head solemnly. “You're a great shot, youngster, but my knights need to keep a cool head – even if the flames of hell itself should lick at their feet.”

“But—” Isis said.

“DISQUALIFIED!” King Arthur shouted.

Isis stomped off to the sidelines, her face red with shame.

King Arthur called the lancers next – now it was Tom's go!

“Best of three!” the king announced. “READY…”

Tom stood with a thundering heart, facing the stocky man on the opposite side of the clearing. The branch that Al had chosen for him was far heavier than any cricket bat Tom had picked up.

“SET…”

The muscles in his arms quivered, but Tom ignored them.

“CHARGE!” King Arthur cried.

“Aaaargh!” Tom growled.

Mustering every ounce of strength he had, he sprinted towards his opponent. The harder he ran, the quicker the other man's lance came at him. But Tom didn't flinch.

Doof!

Tom took a punch in the belly from his opponent's lance. He doubled up, feeling Al's mead sloshing about angrily in his stomach.

Tom stood up quickly, readying himself for another charge. He had two more chances left.

“You can be a knight, Tom,” he muttered under his breath. “Be brave. Show no weakness.” By now, though, the muscles in his arm were really aching.

Once again, Tom sprinted at the man opposite him.
Clonk!
His lance started to trail on the ground.
Clonk-a-donk!
He stumbled and tripped.

King Arthur blew his horn. “Stop the duel!” he cried.

He marched up to Tom and took the branch from him. “I see you have the heart of a lion, young man. But I need knights that are strong enough to bear their lances through a full day's hard riding.”

Tom groaned.

“DISQUALIFIED!”

Tom joined Isis on the sidelines.

“Poor Sir Smartypants,” she teased. “Shame they don't have a fact-spouting duel. You'd
definitely
win that.”

“Oh, thanks!” said Tom.

Isis sighed and patted his arm. “It was just a joke. You weren't too bad, all right?”

“You weren't too bad, either,” said Tom. “But right now Al's our only hope of getting close to a knight. And it's a knight we need, if we're going to find the amulet. So let's cheer him on.”

The remaining contestants had all chosen to fight with swords. There were so many of them that King Arthur split them into two groups.

“Take that! Whoops! Sorry, sir! And that!” Al cried, using a sword made from a stout stick. He parried and nimbly sidestepped the blows that came from men much bigger than him. At every turn, Al darted forward and thrust his sword at his opponents until they were defeated.

“Go, Al!” Tom and Isis shouted.

Even Cleo purred loudly in support.

Al continued to knock out contestants, all the while politely apologising for any harm he was causing. Soon, the villagers started to cheer him on too.

“He's brilliant!” Tom said. “All that practice really paid off! You've got to be as strong as a bear to carry one of those broadswords.”

Isis shrugged. “I suppose if you can lug barrels full of water and swill to a pig's trough all day, you can lift just about anything,” she said.

Tom glanced over to the other group and groaned. “Oh, no!” he said. “Posing Percival's still standing too. You know what's going to happen, don't you?”

Isis nodded. “Al's going to have to duel against him.”

Al and Percival stood side by side before King Arthur. Both were out of breath, but every other would-be knight had either keeled over with exhaustion, been disqualified or been injured.

“The final challenge shall be on horseback,” King Arthur told the crowd. “Fetch your mounts!” he boomed to the two young men.

Al hurried over to Tom and Isis, wiping his brow with his grimy rope belt, leaving a smear of dirt across his forehead. Al glanced over at Percival, who still looked immaculate in his fine clothes and shiny boots.

“Oh, Lord. How can a simple lad like me hope to win against a nobleman?” he said.

“Don't worry,” said Tom. “Just because Percival's got a title doesn't mean he's any better than you.”

“Too right,” agreed Isis. “You're just as good as any noble.”

Al smiled at his new friends and went to fetch Acorn.

“Do you really think he's got a chance?” asked Isis.

“We'd better hope so. Here he comes now!” Tom said excitedly.

Al entered the clearing at a trot, bobbing proudly up and down in the saddle. He waved as he spotted Tom, Isis and Cleo among the spectators, and cantered over to where they were standing.

“What on earth is under your saddle?” Isis said, pointing to the grubby green-and-red cloth that hung over Acorn's flanks.

Al grinned. “He looks right dashing with that, doesn't he?” he said. “It's like one of those silk saddlecloths with knightly coats of arms on, only, get this…” He leaned down and whispered, “it's a bit of an old blanket really. You wouldn't know, would you?”

“Well, ye—” Isis began.

Tom clapped his hand over her mouth. “No, Al. You'd never know,
would you,
Isis? It's really smart.”

“Thing is,” Al said, suddenly seeming gloomy, “that Percival's going to gallop in on a thoroughbred charger. And I didn't want old Acorn, here, with his fluffy, feathery old hooves, to feel scruffy.”

Sure enough, an ‘Ooooh' rippled through the crowd of villagers as Percival rode in on a tall, black stallion. Tom couldn't help but gasp at Percival's shining suit of armour and the horse's gleaming tack.

“What an idiot!” Isis said. “He looks like he's about to lead an army into battle, not duel with a boy on a carthorse.”

She folded her arms and scowled. “I really can't stand show offs!”

Tom looked sideways at her and laughed. “
You
can't stand show offs?”

Percival sat smugly in his grand saddle, with the visor on his helmet raised up so they could see him smirk. He whispered into his stallion's ear and made clicking noises.

Suddenly the horse began to prance round the clearing. Percival steered the horse up close to the villagers, so they could have a better view. The horse flicked its tail in a peasant woman's face.

“Aargh!” she cried, dropping the wicker basket that she had been holding. “Oh no, my eggs!” The woman started to pick up what she could from the yellow, yolky mess on the ground.

Percival just laughed and trotted away. But Al jumped down from Acorn and helped the woman gather the unbroken eggs back into her basket.

“No need to fret, my good lady,” Al said to the woman. “There's still a few that will make it into your pan.”

The woman smiled and patted Al on the arm. “You're a good lad. I hope you put that horrid Percival in his place.”

“Now for the joust!” King Arthur announced. “These lances are
deadly
weapons. The stakes are high!”

Tom watched as King Arthur took two heavy-looking lances with shining, carved hilts from his servants and passed one each to the contestants.

“Which of you will show the kind of courage I am looking for?” Arthur asked.

Al sat astride Acorn's broad back, looking slightly sick as he stared down at the gleaming lance.

“Al's strong and knows his stuff, but I hope a real lance isn't too different from a homemade one,” Tom said.

“Posing Percy seems to be struggling with the weight of his,” Isis said. “All the fancy armour in the world isn't going to give him bigger muscles.”

Cleo led the cheering with a loud meow.

“Come on, Al!” Tom and Isis called out.

Percival snapped his visor shut.

Al raised the lance and stared straight ahead, looking determined.