Tournament Trouble: Sword Girl Book 3

by Frances Watts

  ‘You tell me,’ Smith grumbled. ‘That boy is never around when there’s work to be done.’

  Tommy entered the chamber, sat down and picked up a sword.

  ‘We weren’t expecting to see you back here, dearie,’ said Nursie. ‘We thought you’d be spending all your time practising for the tournament. Ooh, we are just so proud of you!’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Tommy dully.

  ‘What’s wrong, Sword Girl?’ asked Jasper Swann, quick as always to pick up on her feelings.

  Tommy threw her rag down in frustration. ‘It’s Bess,’ she said. ‘The horse. She … she hates me!’ Tommy had to fight to keep her voice from trembling. ‘And I don’t even know what I’m doing wrong.’

  Bevan Brumm said wisely, ‘Horses are mysterious creatures, Sword Girl.’

  ‘Mysterious creatures, my foot,’ said Nursie. ‘Four legs and a tail – what’s so mysterious about that?’

  ‘What happened, Sword Girl?’ Jasper asked.

  ‘I don’t know!’ Tommy said. ‘All I did was sit on her.’ With tears in her eyes, she continued, ‘I know I’ll be letting Sir Benedict down, and you’ll all be disappointed in me, but I don’t have a choice: I’ll have to drop out of the tournament.’

  CHAPTER 8

  TOMMY WAS SITTING in the corner of the sword chamber, her knees pulled up to her chin, when Lil entered.

  ‘What’s wrong, Tommy?’ the cat asked. ‘I went to the courtyard to watch the jousting practice but you weren’t there.’

  ‘I won’t be fighting in the tournament,’ Tommy whispered over the lump in her throat.

  ‘It’s the horse,’ Jasper explained.

  ‘It doesn’t like her,’ added Nursie.

  ‘Mysterious creatures, horses,’ Bevan Brumm finished.

  ‘I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,’ Tommy wailed to Lil. ‘Every time I get on Bess, she bucks me off again. She called me cruel and vicious.’

  Lil frowned. ‘That doesn’t sound right,’ she said. ‘I’m going to talk to her. Maybe I can convince her to give you one more chance.’

  ‘There now, you see?’ said Nursie comfortingly. ‘All’s not lost.’

  ‘Indeed,’ began Bevan Brumm. ‘I think you’ll find—’

  But Bevan Brumm’s speech was interrupted by a shout from the armoury.

  ‘Sword Girl?’ It was Smith. ‘I’ve run out of those tacks again. Honestly, the way they’re disappearing, it’s like they’ve grown little legs and walked away. I need you to go into town to get some more.’

  ‘Yes, Smith.’

  Tommy rushed through the streets of the town towards the blacksmith’s, squeezing through the crowds of people.

  ‘Look, it’s the sword girl,’ someone said.

  Tommy turned to see the morris dancers, Morris, Norris, Horace and Boris, waving to her.

  ‘Hi,’ said Tommy, waving back, only to hear a sneering voice say, ‘Hey, Sword Girl, I heard your horse hates you so much you won’t be able to ride in the tournament after all.’

  Tommy spun around. It was Reynard.

  ‘Maybe you’ll have to ask Sir Benedict if you can ride the crocodile instead,’ he went on. ‘Ha ha! How stupid you’d look, riding a crocodile in the tournament. Then again, you always look stupid.’ He ran away, laughing.

  ‘Who is that nasty boy?’ Boris asked.

  ‘I know who he is,’ said Horace. ‘He’s the one who tied the ribbons of our maypole in knots.’

  ‘It took us hours to get them untangled!’ said Norris.

  ‘Ignore him, Sword Girl,’ said Morris. ‘The blacksmith told us you’ll be jousting in the tournament. We’ll be cheering for you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Tommy. She didn’t have the heart to explain that Reynard was right, and that she probably wouldn’t be in the tournament.

  The next morning, Tommy was feeling too anxious to eat breakfast. Instead she went straight out to the courtyard to see if she could find Lil. The cat was waiting outside the kitchen door.

  ‘Bess is going to let you ride her one more time,’ Lil said. ‘But she says that you’re hurting her when you sit on her. I thought I’d come see for myself.’

  With a sense of dread, Tommy followed Lil into the small courtyard outside the stables. Was she about to get thrown off the horse again? What if the problem wasn’t just with Bess? What if all horses hated her? She kicked at a flagstone. If they did, not only would she have to drop out of the tournament, she’d never be able to become a squire …

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ Lil hissed.

  Tommy looked up to see a familiar figure tie a chestnut horse to a railing then hurry away. ‘Reynard!’ she gasped.

  When they reached Bess, Lil asked, ‘What was Reynard doing here?’

  ‘Reynard?’ the horse asked. ‘Oh, you mean the red-headed boy? He just puts on my saddle and leads me here from the stables. Then, after the girl has finished hurting me, he leads me back again. I think he must be one of the grooms from town.’

  ‘That’s no groom,’ Tommy said. ‘He’s the Keeper of the Bows. What’s he up to?’

  ‘Take off the saddle,’ Lil suggested.

  Tommy unbuckled the saddle and, standing on the edge of a water trough, carefully lifted it from the horse’s back. But she could see nothing wrong. Tommy was disappointed. She had been sure Reynard must be behind her problems with the horse, but it seemed not.

  She patted the horse on the back, then quickly pulled her hand away. ‘Ouch,’ she cried, as the horse winced. ‘What was that?’ She looked closely at the chestnut coat and saw a number of small tacks embedded in the horse’s hair. ‘Tacks!’ she exclaimed. ‘Reynard must have been putting them under the saddle! That’s what’s been causing the pain, Bess. With my weight on the saddle they must have really dug into you. Hold still while I get them out …’

  ‘Why, that little sneak,’ the horse said, outraged, when Tommy had removed the tacks from her coat. ‘Why would he do such a thing?’

  ‘He was angry because I was asked to fight in the tournament and he wasn’t,’ Tommy explained. ‘I guess he thought if he could stop me from learning to ride, I’d have to drop out. And he was right, too. The tournament starts tomorrow and there’s no way I’ll be ready for it.’

  ‘Oh yes you will,’ said the horse. She sounded determined. ‘Can you get into the saddle?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Tommy. From her position on the edge of the water trough, she put a foot into a stirrup. ‘Yes!’ she said, as she dropped into the saddle.

  For the next hour, Bess taught Tommy how to walk and trot around the courtyard. When she was satisfied that Tommy had mastered trotting, she said, ‘Let’s go out into the field. It’s time we had a proper gallop.’

  A gallop! Tommy could hardly wait.

  As they crossed the bridge over the moat, Tommy heard a voice call from below, ‘Hey, Sword Girl, look at me! Look how fast I can go.’

  Tommy glanced down to see the crocodiddle speeding through the water, arms and legs moving furiously.

  ‘That’s pretty fast, Mr Crocodiddle,’ she called. ‘But look at how fast I can go … Come on, Bess – let’s gallop!’

  They set off across the fields, Tommy’s heart thundering in time with the horse’s hooves, her hair streaming behind her. They galloped for miles, jumping fences and ditches, and Tommy never once lost her balance.

  When at last they slowed and turned to head back to the castle, Tommy was laughing with pleasure. ‘I’ve never had so much fun in my whole life,’ she said.

  ‘You’re a natural,’ Bess replied. ‘I can’t believe you’ve never ridden before.’

  ‘I haven’t,’ said Tommy. But then she remembered the crocodiddle saying those same words: You’re a natural. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I have had a lesson.’

  When they crossed the bridge again, Tommy urged Bess towards the edge. She wanted to thank the crocodiddle. But there was no sign of him.

  ‘Mr Crocodiddle?’ she called.

  She t
hought she saw a ripple in the water, but when she looked closer there was no crocodiddle to be seen.

  ‘I’ll come see him later,’ Tommy said. ‘I don’t want to be late for jousting practice!’

  CHAPTER 9

  TOOT-TAROOT !

  As the trumpet sounded, Tommy felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach. She was sitting astride Bess, surrounded by squires on horses. She almost hadn’t recognised the chestnut mare when she’d first seen her in a blue coat and hood embroidered with pink flamingos. Then again, Bess said she almost hadn’t recognised Tommy in the new blue tunic and long pink cloak that Sir Benedict had surprised her with that morning.

  The trumpeters began to move off through the archway leading to the castle gate. The procession of knights and squires followed, their cloaks billowing.

  The road leading away from the castle was lined with townsfolk, all cheering the knights and squires. ‘Flamant for victory!’ they roared. ‘FLAMANT FOR VICTORY!’

  They were dressed in pink and blue and waved pink and blue streamers. Even the horses in the procession had pink and blue ribbons woven through their tails. With a pang, Tommy thought of the crocodiddle. She’d looked for him again the previous evening but although she’d called and called, he hadn’t appeared.

  When they reached the field with the tents and platforms, the riders dismounted and stood by their horses. Tommy could see the knights and squires of Roses Castle at the opposite end of the field, the red roses of Sir Percy’s crest bright on a white background.

  Sir Walter the Bald and his wife inspected the line of Flamant Castle’s knights and squires.

  ‘Really, Walter,’ Lady Beatrix the Bored yawned, ‘this is so boring.’

  ‘Now, now, dear,’ said Sir Walter. ‘Maybe you’d like to choose a knight to be your champion? That would make it more interesting, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Lady Beatrix. She ran her gaze over the knights. ‘But the knights are all so boring.’ She turned to regard the squires. ‘And so are the squires … Wait. Who’s that?’ She pointed her fan at Tommy, who felt her face grow hot.

  ‘Why, that’s our sword girl,’ said Sir Walter, peering at Tommy. ‘What’s the sword girl doing there with the squires, Sir Benedict?’

  Sir Benedict stepped forward. ‘One of the squires was hurt during training,’ he said. ‘Since Tommy has proven herself to be skilled with a sword, I thought we’d test her skill in the jousting competition.’

  ‘A girl in a jousting competition?’ said Lady Beatrix, her eyes bright with interest. ‘That’s not boring at all!’

  Then the trumpets sounded again and Sir Walter and Lady Beatrix went to take up their seats on the viewing platform.

  Sir Walter stood to announce the rules of the jousting competition that the youngest squires would be fighting in that afternoon.

  ‘Each squire will be given three lances,’ he declared. ‘You will receive one point if you break a lance on the shield of your opponent, two points if you break the lance on his chest, and three points if you knock him off his horse. The match ends when one or other of the squires is unhorsed.’

  As Tommy moved off with the others to the tents where the squires were to prepare for the jousting competition, her heart began to pound. How could she possibly succeed? Her opponent would have been training for weeks – even months – while she had only ridden a horse for the first time the day before!

  ‘Come on, Tommy, I’ll help you with your armour.’ It was Sir Benedict.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Tommy whispered.

  He handed her a coat of padded cloth. ‘Put this on first,’ he instructed. ‘It’ll stop the armour from rubbing.’

  When Tommy had slipped on the coat, Sir Benedict helped her pull a tunic made of chainmail over her head, followed by a breastplate, then he buckled armour onto her arms and legs.

  Feeling uncomfortably stiff in the chainmail and steel plating, Tommy stood and watched as one by one the other squires went out to fight.

  As her turn drew closer and closer, Tommy felt the flutter of nerves in her stomach grow stronger than ever. Why had she been so determined to fight in the tournament? she wondered. Now she would give anything not to have to go out there and fight with all those people watching her!

  ‘The score is even,’ said Sir Benedict as a squire from Flamant was knocked off his horse. ‘We’ve won exactly half the bouts and the squires from Roses have won the other half. It’s up to you to win it for us, Tommy,’ the knight said, helping her onto the horse. He pulled her helmet down over her head, leaving the visor up, and gave her a lance and shield. ‘Do your best and we’ll all be proud of you.’

  ‘Yes, Sir Benedict,’ said Tommy, hoping she sounded braver than she felt. Her pulse was racing so fast she thought she might faint.

  As she rode out onto the field, Tommy could hear the crowd calling, ‘Come on, Sword Girl!’

  One voice rose above the rest.

  ‘Sword Girl!’ It was Lady Beatrix, and she was beckoning for Tommy to approach.

  ‘Sword Girl, come over here.’

  Nervous, Tommy moved Bess forward to stand in front of Lady Beatrix. What could the lady want with her?

  Lady Beatrix turned to her lady-in-waiting. ‘Eliza, help me get a ribbon out of my bodice.’

  The lady-in-waiting unthreaded a ribbon and gave it to her mistress.

  ‘Hold out your arm,’ Lady Beatrix commanded.

  When Tommy did, Lady Beatrix tied the ribbon around it. ‘There,’ she said. ‘Sword Girl, you will be fighting for me today, so mind you do well.’

  ‘Yes, my lady,’ Tommy whispered, her mouth dry.

  She cantered back to the starting position.

  ‘Are you ready, Tommy?’ Bess murmured as they lined up on one side of the barrier that would separate the two horses. She was dancing from hoof to hoof, as if eager to begin.

  Tommy drew a deep breath and pulled the visor down over her face. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m ready.’ She raised her voice. ‘Flamant for victory!’ she cried, and then she charged.

  CHAPTER 10

  THE TWO HORSES THUNDERED towards each other, the sound of their hooves muffled by the helmet encasing Tommy’s head. From behind the visor, she fixed her eyes on her opponent’s lance. It was aimed straight at her chest!

  The spectators in the Flamant stands cheered when she managed to dodge the blow at the last second as the horses passed each other. Her own lance glanced harmlessly off her opponent’s shield.

  ‘Come on, Jem!’ called the Roses crowd.

  Tommy wheeled her horse around and, at the sound of the trumpet, charged once more.

  She felt Bess’s muscles rippling beneath her as she galloped, saw the bulk of Jem’s powerful stallion streaking towards her, and felt a moment’s fear at the clash to come.

  As they met, Jem thrust his lance forward and struck Tommy’s shield. His lance didn’t break but the force of the blow was so great that she slid sideways in the saddle. Oh no! If she fell off she would lose the match! She struggled to right herself as Bess galloped on, but with a lance in one hand and a shield in the other she had no way to hang on.

  Grip with your knees, she remembered the crocodiddle saying.

  Tommy tightened her knees around Bess’s girth and regained her balance. Phew!

  They turned for the third charge and this time Tommy kept her knees tight around the horse.

  ‘That’s the way!’ Bess cried as Tommy lunged forward with her lance, hitting her opponent’s shield.

  ‘One point for Sword Girl from Flamant!’ Sir Walter declared as her lance snapped in two.

  Dimly she heard the Flamant spectators hurrah.

  Yes! She could do this! Tommy was no longer nervous as she wheeled Bess around and accepted a second lance from a Flamant groom; she felt calm and focused.

  The trumpet sounded and she charged. ‘Flamant for victory!’ she yelled as she advanced on her opponent. But suddenly she was reeling as her opponent’s lance struck her
chest. Over the clanging of the armour she heard the sound of a lance cracking.

  ‘Two points for Roses!’

  Tommy heard a disappointed groan from the Flamant stands and hung her head as she and Bess moved back into position. Now Jem was in the lead.

  As the signal to charge rang out, she urged Bess into a gallop. ‘Take that!’ She drove her lance forward, aiming at her opponent’s chest. He leaned all the way back in his saddle, and the blow struck his shield. Crack!

  ‘Another point for Sword Girl! That’s two points each,’ Sir Walter called from the stands.

  Tommy cantered back to the starting point. Her breaths were coming in shallow gasps, sounding loud within the helmet. Bess, too, was heaving and snorting from the effort.

  Sir Benedict was waiting with the groom. ‘This is your last lance, Tommy,’ he said. ‘You’ve only got one more chance to strike a winning blow.’

  ‘I can do it,’ Tommy whispered to herself. ‘I can do it.’ She gritted her teeth, waited for the signal, and charged. ‘As fast as you can, Bess!’ she cried.

  She reared away from Jem’s lance while keeping her own lance centred on his chest. Her opponent teetered in his saddle and flung up his shield, the movement making him teeter even more.

  ‘Victory for Flamant!’ she heard the crowd cry as her lance bypassed his shield to hit his armoured chest with an almighty thud.

  Her lance cracked and Jem tumbled from his horse and onto the grass.

  The crowd erupted in cheers. ‘Victory for Flamant! Victory for Sword Girl!’

  Tommy raised her broken lance and shield above her head and whooped. Over on the viewing platform, Sir Walter and Lady Beatrix rose, applauding wildly.

  ‘You should ride over and bow to Lady Beatrix,’ Bess said, breathing hard.

  Tommy cantered over to the viewing platform and bowed her head before Lady Beatrix.

  ‘Well done, Sword Girl,’ crowed Lady Beatrix.

  ‘Come closer.’