Rotten Luck! (3 page)
Authors: Peter Bently
“Calm down, sheriff,” said the king. “I can’t be doing with rebellious peasants. And I certainly don’t want any more robberies in the forest. There’s only one
thing for it. If you can’t catch this Ghost chappie yourself, my brave knights will have to do it. Tomorrow one of them can miss the boar hunt and search for the Ghost of Grimwood instead.”
“Wh-what?” said Sir Spencer. “You mean ride into the f-forest alone, sire?”
“Precisely, Sir Spencer,” said the king. His eyes swept around the table. “Now, who’s going to volunteer, eh? Kindly stand up!”
There was an awkward silence. Sir Percy was suddenly fascinated by the carved gargoyles on the ceiling. Sir Spencer became engrossed with a tiny bit of fluff on his sleeve.
I can’t say I blamed them. Grimwood
is big and dark and scary. If the Ghost and his outlaws lived there, they must be a pretty terrifying bunch.
The only knight who wasn’t desperately trying to avoid the king’s eye was Sir Roland.
“Bunch of wimps!” I heard him mutter. “If they won’t volunteer, I will!”
He was starting to stand up when the elderly earl opposite suddenly woke with such a start that he knocked over his goblet of mead. The mead flew across the table and splashed straight into Sir Percy’s lap.
“Bother!” he yelped, jumping to his feet. “I’m soaked! Cedric, go and fetch me a clo—”
He trailed off as he realized that everyone was staring at him.
“Bravo, Sir Percy!” declared the king. “Well done for volunteering. You will leave for Grimwood at dawn.”
I was up well before sunrise the next morning to get everything ready for Sir Percy’s mission, including scrabbling together a picnic from some leftovers down in the castle kitchens. By the time I woke my master, the sun was already peeping over the forest. It didn’t look quite so scary in the daylight and at least it had
stopped raining. But I was still glad when Sir Percy decided to bring Patchcoat, too.
“He can tell us a few jokes as we go along,” Sir Percy said, as we stepped out into the castle courtyard. The king, queen and sheriff were getting ready to go hunting with Sir Spencer and the other knights. “Besides, it’s always useful to have an extra pair of eyes when one is hunting for dangerous outlaws, don’t you think?”
My master was in a remarkably confident mood. Even so, I was surprised when he turned down the king’s offer of a platoon of his best soldiers.
“Are you sure, Sir Percy?” said the king.
“Quite sure, sire,” said Sir Percy. “Any extra men will only – um – make too much noise.
Stealth,
sire, that’s the only way to catch the Ghost. Creep up on him unawares, that sort of thing.”
“What?” said the sheriff sharply. “Do you sewiously expect to catch the Ghost with only a
squire
and a
jester
?”
“Of course, sheriff,” my master replied. “Don’t forget that I once captured Filbert the Fox and his gang single-handedly. It’s in
The Song of Percy.
”
“Happy now, sheriff?” said the king. “It’s about time we were off. The early bird catches the boar, eh?”
“Actually, sire, if you’ll excuse me I
think I’ll miss today’s hunt,” said the sheriff. “I’ve just wemembered I’ve some urgent business away fwom the castle.”
“Really, sheriff?” said the king. “Why didn’t you mention it before? Very well, if it’s important I suppose you’ll have to go. All the more boar for me!”
The sheriff bowed and hurried back into the castle, just as Sir Roland came out in full hunting gear, with Walter struggling under the weight of a massive crossbow.
“Good luck, Sir Percy,” said the king, clapping my master on the back. “I wish all my knights were as brave and fearless as you!”
Sir Roland gave a little snort of laughter. Unfortunately the king heard him.
“What’s so funny, Sir Roland?” he frowned.
“
You
, sire!” said Sir Roland. “I mean no, er, I—”
“
Me?
” snapped the king.
“No-no-no, sire,” mumbled Sir Roland, blushing. “What I meant was I-I-I—”
“So you think I’m here to
amuse
you, do you, Sir Roland?” said the king. “Like some kind of
jester
, eh?”
Sir Percy was biting his lip to stop himself laughing. He was clearly enjoying watching Sir Roland squirm.
“Well, Sir Roland, unlike Master Patchcoat here I
don’t
enjoy being laughed at,” said the king. “
You
can jolly well stay behind and guard the castle!”
The king strode off to join the queen at the head of the hunting party. For a moment Sir Roland stood there gawping. Then, with a furious look at Sir Percy, he stomped back to the castle.
“We’ll get you for this, Fatbottom,”
hissed Walter. “That’s if the Ghost of Grimwood doesn’t get you first!”
We followed the royal hunting party out of the castle. Sir Percy, whistling merrily, led the way on Prancelot while Patchcoat and I rode on Gristle.
“The king’s got a point,” said Patchcoat. “Even if we’re quiet and stealthy like Sir Percy says, does he seriously reckon the three of us can capture the Ghost and his band? They’re bound to put up a fight, aren’t they?”
“I know,” I said with a shiver. “Sir Percy’s being very jolly, considering.”
“A bit
too
jolly, if you ask me, Ced.”
Uh-oh
. Was my master up to something?
As we passed through the town gates, I noticed a couple of peasants at the side of the road – a short stocky man with a staff, and a tall skinny youth with a bow. I could have sworn that the stocky one gave the youth a nudge and a nod in our direction. A little further up the road I glanced round to see the two peasants walking behind us. I thought of mentioning it to Patchcoat, but the next time I looked they had both disappeared.
We were just at the point where the main road entered the forest.
“Right, this path should do nicely,” said Sir Percy, veering on to a rough track. “Follow me, chaps!”
I watched the hunting party carry on along the road without us.
“Um – are you sure this is the best way, Sir Percy?” I said, pointing to a signpost half hidden by bushes.
No wonder those two peasants had stopped following us.
“No need to worry, dear boy!” said Sir Percy. “We won’t go far into the forest. We’ll just trot along this path for a while until we find some charming little glade among the trees. Then we’ll have our picnic and maybe a snooze in the sun for a few hours before trotting back to the castle in good time for supper.”
“But – but what about tracking down the Ghost, Sir Percy?” I said.
“Oh,
that
,” said my master breezily. “Well, we’ll keep an eye out for the fellow, of course. But let’s be realistic, Cedric. The forest stretches for miles. Do you seriously
think we have a chance of bumping into
anyone
, let alone the Ghost? His Majesty won’t be at all surprised if we
don’t
find the Ghost. So we might as well relax and enjoy our little jaunt, eh?”
So that was it! Sir Percy had no intention whatsoever of tracking down the Ghost. No wonder he was cheerful. And no wonder he didn’t want any of the king’s soldiers coming with us!
Patchcoat gave me a wry grin. “Oh well,” he said, as we headed down the track. “At least it means we won’t actually have to fight the Ghost and his gang.”
“That’s true,” I said. “But it also means I’ve missed out on the hunt. I might
finally
have had a go with a bow and arrow!”
We followed Sir Percy as he looked for a spot to stop for a picnic. But as we got deeper into the forest, the trees started to grow closer and closer together.
“Bother!” said Sir Percy. “There must be a clearing somewhere. We’ll just have to keep looking.”
In the gloom the trees took on weird shapes and I began to make out spooky faces in their gnarled and twisted trunks.
“I don’t know about you,” I said to Patchcoat. “But this place gives me the willies… Eek! What’s that?”
As if on cue, a strange creature had dropped down out of the trees right in
front of us. I realized that it was a plump man with the longest, bushiest and whitest beard I had ever seen. It covered his whole body, right down to his knobbly knees. Which was just as well, because he was also stark, staring butt-naked.
“Brother Dermot’s the name,” said the man. “I’m a tree hermit.”
“A tree hermit?” said Sir Percy.
“That’s right,” said Brother Dermot. “Anyhow, there I was sittin’ in my tree, mindin’ me own business like, when I sees you lot wandering along. So I thinks, better hop down and
warn
’em, see?”
“W-warn us about what?” said Sir Percy.
“Oh,
nothing
,” said Dermot. “It usually sleeps at this time of day, anyway.”
“
What
does?” said Sir Percy.
“The Man-Eatin’ Monster of Grimwood,” said Dermot, matter-of-factly. “It
loves
humans, see. ’Specially nice tasty
tinned
ones! Not to mention fresh juicy jesters. And
boys
. That’s why I live up a tree. Much safer up there, see!”
“Well, my dear fellow, it’s, er, time we were off,” said Sir Percy. “As a matter of fact we only planned to come
exactly
this far before turning back to the castle. Isn’t that right, Cedric?”
“Er, yes, Sir Percy,” I lied. First I’d heard of it, but I wasn’t arguing.
“Hold on,” said Patchcoat suspiciously. “How come no one at the castle mentioned this Man-Eating Monster thingy?”
The hermit hesitated for a moment. Then he said, “That’s because no one who’s seen it ever went home to tell the tale! Now, I’ll show you a shortcut back to the castle.” He pointed at a tree just ahead. “Right after that chestnut tree there’s a
fork in the path, right?”
“Right,” nodded Sir Percy.
“Take the left fork,” said Dermot. “
Not
the right. Right?”
“Um – right,” said Sir Percy quickly. “Thank you. Now I think we’d better get a move on. Good day, Brother Dermot!”
“Cheerio!” said Brother Dermot. He turned and, with a flash of his hairy bottom, disappeared up a tree.
We soon reached the fork in the path. But then we hit a snag. Try as we might, Patchcoat and I just couldn’t convince Sir Percy to take the left fork.
“We’re sure the hermit said go
left
, Sir Percy,” I pleaded.
“Nonsense,” said Sir Percy. “I hope you’re not forgetting your Squire’s Code and arguing with your master, Cedric. Did he or did he not say ‘Right after the chestnut tree’?”
“Well,
yes
,” I admitted. “But
then
he said—”
“Exactly,” Sir Percy interrupted. “No more arguing. Follow me!”