Tournament Trouble: Sword Girl Book 3 (2 page)

‘I'm just thinking about the tournament,' Tommy told her.

‘Ooh, the tournament,' said Nursie. ‘What an exciting time. Why, I remember when my little darling fought in his first tournament. He won, of course.' Nursie's ‘little darling', Tommy knew, was Sir Walter himself; Nursie had been his nursemaid.

A long-handled dagger with a deep voice chimed in, ‘And don't forget the fair. All those stalls … There'll be leather goods and delicious pies and spices and candles and – oh, anything you can imagine. It's a fine time to be a merchant. Will you be buying anything at the fair, Sword Girl?'

‘You merchants are all the same, Bevan Brumm,' Nursie scolded.

‘Always wanting people to buy things. But our sword girl is more interested in the tournament, aren't you, dearie?'

While the sabre and the dagger argued over which was better, a tournament or a fair, Tommy's spirits sank lower. She'd never seen a tournament
or
a fair.

As she sighed for a third time, a slender sword with a slightly curved blade spoke up. ‘It must be hard to be cooped up here in the sword chamber when there's so much excitement going on outside.' Jasper Swann, a squire, had been close to Tommy's own age when he died. Perhaps that was why he often seemed to understand what she was feeling.

Tommy looked at the sword in her hand. ‘I wish I could be out there in the courtyard,' she said. ‘Riding a horse and jousting.' She thrust the sword forward at an imaginary opponent. It was Tommy's dearest wish to one day become a squire. ‘But they'll probably never let a girl ride in a tournament,' she finished gloomily.

‘Don't be downhearted, dearie,' Nursie advised. ‘Your turn will come.'

‘That's right, Sword Girl,' Jasper agreed. ‘After all, whoever thought a kitchen girl would become the castle's Keeper of the Blades? And look how quickly you—'

But before he could finish they heard a cry so loud it made Tommy drop her sword in fright. ‘What was that?' she gasped.

CHAPTER 2

T
OMMY RUSHED TO THE DOOR
of the armoury. Smith and Reynard were there already, watching the scene unfolding in the great courtyard. The squires had gathered around a boy who was lying on the flagstones. His face was pale and his eyes were closed.

‘That's young Edward,' said Smith as Tommy joined them. ‘He was Keeper of the Blades before you, Sword Girl.' He shook his head. ‘Fell from his horse, poor lad.'

Sir Hugh, who had been leading the squires in their practice, was kneeling beside the injured boy.

‘Go fetch the physician,' he ordered, his voice loud.

Edward moaned and Tommy felt a twinge of sympathy.

‘There now, that's enough goggle-eyein',' said Smith as the physician hurried across the courtyard, his robes flapping. ‘Back to work.'

Tommy returned to the sword chamber, still thinking of the pale-faced boy and his terrible cry. She hoped he would be all right.

When she had finally finished sharpening and polishing all the swords, Tommy hurried outside to find Lil. She would know if there was news about Edward. But Lil wasn't in any of her usual spots in the great courtyard – probably all the clamour and clatter of the knights and squires practising had disturbed her. So Tommy went through the low arch leading from the courtyard and out the castle gate. Sure enough, there was the black and white cat, lying on a patch of sun-warmed grass beside the moat. The crocodiddle, who guarded the moat, had his head resting on the bank beside her.

‘Have you heard anything about Edward, the squire who was thrown from his horse?' Tommy asked as she joined her friends. Tommy had discovered that most of the animals at Flamant Castle could talk, though they didn't talk to everyone – only to those who were good at listening, as Sir Benedict put it.

‘Horses,' snorted the crocodiddle. ‘The way people go on, you'd think the horse was the only noble creature the castle had ever seen. And it's worse during tournaments. The horses get all dressed up in coats and hoods and wear ribbons in their tails. What about the noble crocodiddle? No one bothers with him.' He pouted and splashed the water with his tail.

Lil stretched then sat up. ‘Edward is still being tended to by the physician, Tommy.'

‘I hope he'll be able to ride in the tournament,' Tommy said. ‘Think how disappointing it would be to miss out. I wish I was riding in the tournament.'

‘Ah, but tournaments are not just for fun, you know,' said the cat. ‘They're a good opportunity for knights and squires to practise their skills so they're ready for battle. And you have a big responsibility, Tommy. Our knights need their swords to be in top condition if they are to perform well in the tournament. They are depending on their Keeper of the Blades.'

‘You're right,' said Tommy, feeling guilty when she recalled her earlier grumbling in the sword chamber.

‘What about me?' said the crocodiddle. ‘Are they depending on me too?'

‘Of course they are,' said the cat. ‘We all depend on you all the time.'

The crocodiddle grinned, showing two enormous rows of teeth.

Tommy stood up. ‘I'd better have some dinner and go to bed,' she said. ‘I've got a lot of important work to do tomorrow.'

The next morning, as she crossed the courtyard on her way to the armoury, Tommy saw the small round figure of the physician staring into the sky. ‘Pigeon … Oh, Pigeon …' he was calling. At first nothing happened, then there was a flutter of grey feathers and a cross voice said, ‘I gave you some droppings the day before yesterday. How can you have run out already?' The carrier pigeon came to rest on a low wall.

‘There's been an accident,' the physician explained. ‘One of the squires fell during practice yesterday afternoon and he's badly hurt. I need some more droppings to make the cure.'

‘How is Edward?' Tommy asked.

The physician looked grave. ‘Broken leg,' he said. ‘I doubt he'll be riding a horse again anytime soon.'

A broken leg? So poor Edward would have to miss out on the tournament after all, Tommy thought as she entered the armoury.

As usual, the air in the armoury was warm from the fire of the forge and the stones echoed with the clanging of a hammer striking metal.

‘I just saw the physician,' Tommy reported when the smith paused in his work. ‘Edward has broken his leg.'

‘So, Flamant Castle will be one squire short for the tournament, eh?' the smith observed. ‘Sir Walter won't like that.'

‘Quite right,' said a voice behind them, making Tommy jump.

‘Sir Benedict,' she said.

‘Good morning, Tommy,' said the knight. ‘Morning, Smith.'

The smith put down his hammer. ‘Is it your shield again, Sir Benedict?' he asked.

‘I'm afraid so,' said Sir Benedict. ‘The strap has broken.'

The smith took the shield Sir Benedict held out and inspected it. ‘If you didn't sling it around so much, you wouldn't have so many broken straps,' he told the knight.