Rotten Luck!

by Peter Bently

  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!”

  Patchcoat and I looked at each other as Sir Percy galloped off.

  “Don’t worry, Ced,” said Patchcoat. “He’ll soon realize this isn’t the way. Then we’ll just turn round and come back.”

  “I hope so,” I sighed. “That’s if we’re not eaten by a monster first!”

  “Can’t be far now!” said Sir Percy for the umpteenth time.

  It was three hours later and we had stopped for a late picnic lunch. So late, in fact, that it was nearly dinner. Unfortunately, my master still showed no sign of turning back.

  “We’re almost there, you mark my words,” he said, swallowing the last of his cold peacock pie. “In fact, we’d see the castle by now if this dashed forest weren’t in the way.”

  I doubted that. Not only was there no sign of the castle, there was no sign of anything at all. Except trees, trees and more trees.

  As we set off again I realized the light was starting to fade. It was getting harder to see the path in front of us. If that wasn’t bad enough, the branches were really low, so we had to dismount and lead Prancelot and Gristle by the reins.

  “I must say I’m looking forward to a nice hot dinner,” said Sir Percy. “I wonder how much further it is.”

  “Look!” I said, squinting in the gloom. “There’s someone on the path ahead! They might know, Sir Percy.”

  “So there is,” said Sir Percy. “I say, you there!” he hollered. “Is it far to the castle?”

  The person had his back to us and he didn’t turn round. His only reply was a surly grunt.

  “How rude!” muttered Sir Percy. “Obviously another of these woodland loner types. Woodcutter or somesuch.”

  He tried once more. “My good fellow, I asked you a simple question. Is it far to the castle?”

  But the figure just grunted again. It was hard to tell in the twilight, but he appeared to be heavily built and wearing some kind of thick overall and hat.

  “Now look here,” harrumphed Sir Percy. “I am Sir Percy Piers Peregrine de Bluster de Bombast and I will not be addressed in that impolite manner. Will you kindly answer my question?”

  The answer was a growl followed by a loud, bloodcurdling ROAR!

  “We’ll take that as a no then,” said Patchcoat, as the stranger slowly turned round.

  Uh-oh. “That’s no woodcutter, Sir Percy,” I said. “That’s a BEAR! RUN FOR IT!”

  ROARRRR!

  “Aargh!”

  “Yikes!”

  “Eek!”

  Prancelot and Gristle bolted into the trees. And we weren’t far behind, running like crazy with the bear crashing through the undergrowth in hot pursuit.

  I blundered blindly through the dark forest, tripping over roots and ivy and being walloped by branches. I was falling further and further behind. Eventually I had to stop and catch my breath.

  So this is it, I thought. I’m never going to be a knight. I’m going to be a bear’s bedtime snack instead!

  I waited for the bear to appear. Nothing. Either we’d given the bear the slip or it had changed its mind about having us as a tasty three-course meal.

  “Sir Percy! Patchcoat! Stop!” I called. “The bear’s gone!”

  I ran and caught up with them.

  “Excellent!” said Sir Percy, between gasps for breath. “I knew my – um – plan would work!”

  “Plan, Sir Percy?” I asked.

  “Indeed, my plan to, er, bamboozle the bear by – um – leading it into unfamiliar territory,” he panted. “Very useful tactic for, er, er – confusing an enemy, Cedric!”

  A tactic otherwise known as running for your life like a gibbering crazy person, I thought.

  Hearing a soft whinnying in the bushes nearby, Patchcoat and I went to fetch Prancelot and Gristle.

  “First a monster and now a bear!” said Patchcoat. “This sure is one scary forest, Ced!”

  “Too right,” I agreed. “But at least we haven’t had to face the Ghost and his gang yet.”

  “Right, chaps,” said Sir Percy, when we returned. “That’s quite enough adventure for one day. It’s dinner and bed for me! Let’s get back on the path.”

  “Er, just one little question, Sir Percy,” I said. “Where exactly is the path?”

  “Well, it’s this way, of course,” said Sir Percy, striding ahead. “Ah, no, hold on, it’s – it’s—” He stopped in his tracks.

  We’d run a long way and in the darkness it was impossible to remember which direction we’d come from. We were lost, at night, in the middle of Grimwood.

  “We shall simply have to set up camp,” said Sir Percy. “We must make a fire and find ourselves something to eat. It’ll all be rather jolly.”

  He sat down on a tree stump. “So, while you two chaps get on with those little jobs,” he said, “I’ll take full responsibility for – um – keeping guard.”

  As usual I’d be doing the dirty work, but at least I had Patchcoat to help me. And he happened to have a tinderbox in his jester’s bag, so making the fire turned out to be easy. Once the blaze was going, I thought about finding food. But what? It was the wrong time of year for berries and nuts.

  Sir Percy had nipped behind a tree for a tinkle. Suddenly he started to yelp.

  “Ow! Ooh! Ow! Ah! Cedric, help! Ow!”

  “What is it, Sir Percy?” I said, running over.

  “A dockleaf, Cedric, quickly!” he winced. “I’ve – ouch – stung myself.”

  Sir Percy had accidentally blundered into a patch of nettles in the dark. While I was fetching him some dockleaves, I remembered that my mum often made dockleaf soup. I gave him the leaves then went to collect some more in a pot from Gristle’s saddlebag. After picking off all the slugs, I filled the pot with water from a nearby stream and put it on the fire. Before long we were taking it in turns to sip the thick green soup straight from the pot.

  “Thank you, Cedric,” said Sir Percy. “Rather dull peasant fare, but at least you tried to liven it up with one or two mushrooms.”

  “Mushrooms, Sir Percy?”

  “Yes,” he said, fishing out a slimy-looking lump. Before I could stop him he popped it in his mouth and chomped. “And very tasty they are, too. If somewhat on the chewy side.”

  Whoops. It turned out I hadn’t picke
d off all the slugs. Ew.

  A couple of hours later, Patchcoat and I were sitting by the fire while Sir Percy dozed against a tree. He’d given us first watch, with strict instructions to wake him after two hours. The tiny fact that we had no way at all of telling the time didn’t seem to bother him.

  An owl hooted nearby, making us jump.

  “I dunno about you, Ced, but I’ll be glad to be out of this forest!” said Patchcoat.

  “Me, too,” I said. “Do you think anyone is missing us back at the castle?”

  “Doubt it,” said Patchcoat. “Sir Percy never said how long his hunt for the Ghost was going to take. Not that he had any intention of doing any actual hunting, of course.”

  I sighed. “So we could be lost in the forest for a week before anyone misses us.”

  “Or a month,” said Patchcoat. “Or a year, even.”

  “Thanks, Patchcoat,” I said. “That’s really cheered me up.”

  “Look on the bright side, Ced,” he grinned. “After a year of dock-and-slug soup, Margaret’s porridge will taste like a royal banquet!”

  He chuckled to himself and stretched out next to the fire. I tossed a couple more branches on to the flames.

  “I reckon it’s time to wake Sir Percy now, don’t you?” I said.

  But Patchcoat had nodded off. I went to my master and gently shook his shoulder.

  “Nnnng! Eh? Wha…” he grunted, half opening an eye. “BEARS! HELP! HELP!”

  “It’s only me, Sir Percy,” I said. “It’s your turn to keep watch.”

  “Eh? What? Yes, yes, all right,” he said, his head lolling forward on to his chest once more. “Hmmnnnninaminute.” He closed his eyes and started to snore.

  I tried shaking his shoulder again but he just snored more loudly. Suspiciously loudly.

  “Great,” I sighed. “It looks like I’ll be staying up all night.”