‘Chester, do you think when we are in the city you could walk on all fours?’ asked Banfor. ‘Just so that you don’t alarm people.’
‘On all fours? You mean, like . . .’ He searched around for the word. ‘A bear? Wait! I am a bear! So that would work quite well!’
Banfor pulled a length of rope from his saddlebag. ‘And might you be able to dangle this around your neck? Loosely, of course.’
‘A rope is not something I like,’ said Chester, ‘although I have nothing against ropes. Ropes can be very useful. But they’re not useful for a bear. Ropes don’t help with hunting, or wandering about, or sleeping. And what else is there?’
Banfor held out the rope. Chester sighed. ‘Oh all right. Actually, not all right; it’s still a bit wrong, but I will let you do it because I am big-hearted and kind and humble and cuddly.’
‘It would also be best if when other people are around you do not speak,’ said Banfor.
‘Not speak!’ said Chester indignantly. ‘A bear that walks on four legs and does not speak is a . . . is a . . . normal bear!’ He drummed his claws together. ‘So you want me to go back to being a normal bear for a while. Interesting. It will be like going on holiday. I will do it!’
They entered the city gates looking like two normal people on two normal horses leading an ordinary bear. Banfor looked calm, if not overjoyed, by his return to civilisation.
Almost immediately, Roderick noticed something had changed while he had been away. When he had first become a knight, whenever he went outside the castle almost everyone he passed had nodded, bowed, tugged at their hat or uttered a respectful ‘M’lord’. Now, as they trotted through the city, there was none of that. Instead, he caught a number of resentful stares and under-the-breath remarks, never quite loud enough for him to hear. CAKE’s anti-knight campaign was clearly working.
At the castle gates, Aloysius, the doorman, and another guard stood to attention outside their watchtower.
‘I have important visitors to see the Queen,’ said Roderick nervously.
Aloysius had been stationed at the gates for longer than Roderick had been alive and took his responsibilities far more seriously than anyone thought he should. As always, his appearance set new standards in ironing, tucking in and polishing.
There was a rolled-up parchment in his hand, which he held with the care usually shown only to newborn babies. He looked quizzically at Roderick.
‘It would not matter, sir, if you had all the rulers of the world with you. If their names were not on this list, they could not enter.’
‘This is Sir Ganfree Banfor,’ said Roderick dramatically, expecting a reaction. Aloysius looked less than impressed, and flicked his gaze towards Chester.
‘Oh . . . and his bear. Chester.’
Aloysius studied his list.
‘The bear’s probably not on the list,’ Roderick added.
Aloysius ignored him as his finger slowly travelled down the page. ‘I have found Sir Ganfree Banfor,’ he said in a tone of great importance. ‘He may enter with you, but,’ he paused dramatically, ‘there is no record of a “Chester”, bear or otherwise.’
‘No,’ said Roderick. ‘I said that. See, what happened was –’
‘So you and your human guest may enter,’ continued Aloysius, ‘but the bear may not. There is a form you may fill out at the Queen’s office to request entry for the bear and if – if, mind – it is counter-signed by a senior – senior, mind – knight, or the monarch, then you may return with the form and then – only then – may the bear enter.’
Banfor had been patiently sitting on his horse. He cleared his throat, and fixed the guard with a friendly gaze.
‘I think you will let us all in now. Don’t you?’
Aloysius took a full step backwards. He opened his mouth but nothing emerged. Banfor smiled at him.
‘Yes,’ Aloysius croaked. He took two more steps back until he was pressed into the wall of the watchtower. He motioned the junior guard, who looked bewildered. ‘Let them though! Quickly!’
They passed through the gates, took their horses to the stables and walked to the Queen’s palace, on the far side of the castle. At the entrance were two guards who, when they saw Chester, moved to block the entrance until Banfor gave them a look and they stepped back.
They entered a huge foyer with corridors leading off either side. Roderick had only ever been to the palace briefly to run errands or deliver something important to someone important. In the middle of the room was a wide, ornate spiral staircase. Beside it was a large marble desk behind which sat one of Sir Lilley’s senior secretaries, Drouk, bald and round-faced, looking importantly at a piece of paper he held.
They approached the desk and waited politely for Drouk to acknowledge their presence. He didn’t. Eventually Roderick coughed.
Nothing.
He cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me, Master Drouk, I –’
‘Oh, my goodness!’ Drouk sat angrily upright. ‘Can you not see I am doing the Queen’s business! How dare you interrupt –’
He was interrupted by a fierce growl from Chester, who had risen up onto his hind legs. Drouk’s eyes widened and he pushed his chair back from his desk.
‘Down, Chester, we don’t want to scare the man,’ Banfor said calmly.
Chester dropped to the floor. Drouk gulped. ‘At any rate, how, er, can I assist you, Sir . . . ?’
‘Roderick. I need to see the Queen immediately,’ said Roderick.
Drouk held his gaze a moment. ‘Yes, of course. The Queen.’ He sighed, the sound a man of great importance makes when, once again, he has to deal with lesser beings. ‘As you can imagine, many wish to see the Queen.’ He pushed a piece of paper across the table. ‘If you can fill out this form, listing your reason, your request will be prioritised.’
‘But –’
Drouk held up a hand. The next words came out flat and fast, as if for the seventeenth time that day. ‘If you have returned from your mission to find Sir Ganfree Banfor, please return the Queen’s letter to me and then prepare a written report on what you found, emphasising any information you consider relevant to the search for the said Sir Banfor. The report must be filed within twenty-four hours of your return. Now if that is all . . .’ He waved his hand dismissively in their direction, and returned to his very important piece of paper.
‘This is Sir Gan–’ began Roderick.
‘If you just place all relevant information in your report!’ Drouk interrupted impatiently. ‘That would be most helpful. Thank you!’
‘But this is Sir Ganfree Banfor.’
Drouk froze. ‘This is Sir Ganfree . . .’ he repeated slowly. Then his head jerked up. ‘Who?!’
‘You heard,’ said Banfor gently.
‘You!’ Drouk said to Roderick in disbelief.
‘I’m sure the Queen would like to see us as soon as possible,’ said Roderick, enjoying Drouk’s astonishment.
‘Yes, yes, of course! One moment.’ He immediately rose from his desk and scuttled to a door behind it. Then he stopped, turned and stared at them all again before disappearing through it.
‘He seems nice,’ said Banfor.
‘Shall I eat him with my teeth?’ asked Chester.
‘Not yet,’ said Banfor.
Soon Drouk returned. ‘Please, follow me,’ he said, this time with exquisite politeness. They climbed the stairs and reached a foyer that led to a set of double doors at least as big as a set of quadruple doors. They extended nearly to the ceiling, and looked much too large and heavy to open. Luckily they didn’t have to try, as within the giant left-hand door was a smaller, normal-sized one.
‘Excuse me,’ said Drouk, and went through it. A few seconds later he returned and beckoned them through.
They stepped into the biggest room Roderick had ever seen. It was the Queen’s throne room, but it w
as so huge you could have put a hundred thrones in it, then blindfolded someone and told them to try to find one, and it could have taken them hours. If he squinted, Roderick could just see the Queen at the far end of the room, seated on the biggest chair in the world on a raised platform two steps above the ground.
He wondered how they were supposed to get to her. Sure, he had just gone to the end of the kingdom and back, but that was on a horse. They started walking. Halfway there, Banfor was puffing.
Eventually, they stopped at the bottom step, Roderick swelling with pride. This was his moment. Alone of all the knights, he had succeeded, and now he stood before the Queen as the saviour of the kingdom.
He lifted his gaze to meet her strong, wise eyes. Except he didn’t because they were directed elsewhere. She was staring at Banfor, and her eyes didn’t look strong or wise. They looked shocked.
Roderick had rehearsed his lines a thousand times over the past few days, but now he stuttered them out.
‘Your Majesty, I mean . . . This is, um . . . Can I present . . . Sir Ganfree Banfor.’
There was a loud bear-shaped cough.
‘Oh, and his bear, Chester.’
‘Hello and other things people say in that awkward bit when they meet each other, but do not yet know each other.’ Chester had clearly forgotten Banfor’s instruction not to talk.
‘H . . . hello,’ said the Queen a trifle uncertainly. She quickly regained her composure and turned back to Banfor. ‘It’s been a long time, Ganfree.’
‘Hello, Emily,’ said Banfor evenly.
As Roderick watched the two study each other, his brief feeling of importance faded. He realised that he was just a tiny player in a drama he knew almost nothing about.
The Queen turned back to Chester. ‘How remarkably clever. A bear that can talk.’ Chester’s chest puffed out. ‘I wonder. Would you like a room in the palace near Sir Ganfree, or to sleep outside?’
‘Well, I am a bear who sleeps,’ said Chester. ‘In fact, as far as I know, there are no other types of bears apart from bears who sleep. And a bed is a good place to be asleep and I know that, because I have slept in a bed and it was good.’
The Queen had no reply to that, apart from a slightly confused smile.
She then focused on Roderick and her smile became warm. ‘Sir Roderick,’ she said, ‘once again you have saved me. But this time it is even more important. Because when you saved me from the poisoned dart you just saved me, and had I perished the kingdom would have found another ruler. This time, by bringing Sir Ganfree to us, you may well have saved our entire kingdom. When time allows you must tell me how you managed this feat.’ She stepped down from her throne and took Roderick’s hands in hers. ‘But for now, I thank you.’
Roderick’s head filled with joy, and he couldn’t stop a huge, not very knightly grin from spreading across his face. He felt better than best. He felt like he mattered; so good that, even though he knew that important conversations were about to occur between the Queen and Banfor, he hardly minded when he was very politely dismissed. He understood. He was not a ruler, a decider or a leader. He was a doer. And he had done. Somehow, in the last two weeks, he had become a proper knight.
Floating on a wave of self-satisfaction, he climbed the stairs to his room, and wondered how long it would be before he was moved downstairs to bigger quarters.
CHAPTER 12
TOO MANY QUESTIONS
Roderick spent the rest of the day unpacking, washing his clothes and having an extremely long bath during which he turned not one but two fresh tubs of water brown.
The next morning he rode into Indinwick to the thatch-topped house where Sonya’s friend Sven lived with his parents. Sven was home alone and nervously invited Roderick in to sit at their plain kitchen table. He was tall, blond and thin, with pimples on his cheeks. He had always adored Sonya, whereas Roderick knew that Sonya had never been more than fond of him.
He started by asking what Sven knew about Sonya’s involvement with CAKE.
Sven hesitated.
‘I don’t care about CAKE,’ said Roderick. ‘I care about my sister. You’re not going to get into trouble.’
Sven swallowed, looked around and then seemed to make up his mind. ‘It would have been about three months ago. She got interested in going. Me, not so much, but I went to keep her company.’ He shrugged. ‘I would have gone to a meeting about apricots if she was going, and I don’t even like apricots.’
‘What did they talk about at the meetings?’
‘They kept going on with all this stuff about fighting for a better deal for everyone and doing away with the “extravagance of castle life’’. Sven looked up quickly. ‘No offence.’
Roderick motioned for him to continue.
‘Um . . . and stuff about returning power to the people. Sonya was right into it. I didn’t really listen much, to be honest.’
‘Why did you keep going?’
‘I . . . I liked going with her. And they served great cheesecake after the meetings.’
‘You see a lot of Sonya, don’t you?’ probed Roderick.
Sven slowly nodded.
‘Was there anything else you noticed recently that was different or unusual?’
Sven’s eyes lowered. ‘Not really.’ There was something in his tone. Hurt.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Well, I used to see her a couple of times a week. We’d go for a walk or a ride, or just, you know, talk. But . . .’ He trailed off.
‘That stopped?’
‘Pretty much. About a month before she disappeared. I thought I must have said something, or done something. Then I thought . . .’ He exhaled. ‘Maybe she’d met someone else.’
‘Did she say anything about that?’
‘No. But she wouldn’t have to me. It was just a feeling. And now . . . it’s terrible. How can I help find her? I mean, I’ve asked around. I’ve looked places she liked going. Nothing.’
Roderick thought it unlikely that any further help that Sven could give would actually be helpful, but promised to keep him informed of any developments.
As he rode back to Palandan a theory tugged at him. Could Sven, worried that he was losing Sonya, have confronted her and lost his temper? But if anything like that had happened, surely Sonya would have just belted him.
As he neared the city he felt chills on his spine. He had tried to hold everything together but now that he had time to think, the horror of his sister’s disappearance crashed into him.
He knew she had felt trapped on the farm, but their mother was right. If she had decided to leave, she would have left a note, or sent word that she was all right.
Could she have been kidnapped? But his family wasn’t rich and there had been no demand for ransom.
Where was she?
Roderick’s hands began to tremble. So did his stomach, his chest and his brain. He slid off Fruitcake, staggered across the ditch at the side of the road and through a clump of trees, so at least he was hidden from passing traffic and could fall apart alone. He dropped to his knees, pushed his head into the ground and his bottom towards the sky and wished that all the bad things would go away.
Later, he lay empty in the grass among the trees. His mind was still flooded with worry, but at least he had regained control of his body. He was about to haul himself back to his feet when he saw two figures on horseback approaching, also heading towards Palandan. They were knights, probably returning from their mission. Roderick decided to wait until they passed and hid behind a tree. He was in no mood to talk.
As they passed he peeked around the side of the tree to see who it was. It was Shamus and Fromley! And draped across the front of Shamus’s horse was a third person, whose hands were tied together. The horse’s motion bounced the person uncomfortably up and down. As they passed, the prisoner raised his head and Roderick found himself st
aring into his eyes. Except they weren’t his eyes. They were hers.
It was Ruby!
Roderick stifled a cry. Ruby’s eyes widened but her gag stopped her making any sound.
Roderick gave them a few minutes’ start, then mounted Fruitcake and cantered along the road until he caught them.
‘Hail, good knights,’ he called, settling Fruitcake into a walk beside Fromley’s horse. Shamus’s horse was the other side of Fromley’s, with Ruby draped over it so that she was facing away from Roderick.
‘Roderick!’ Fromley cried. He swung his hand into Roderick’s back, almost sending him flying to the ground. ‘Are you just getting back too?’
Although half of Roderick’s mind was anxious about Sonya, and the other half was curious about Ruby, there was also a third half that was proud of what he had done and eager to share the tale. He prayed Ruby would not interrupt, and then remembered that she couldn’t because she was gagged.
He told them how he had found Banfor, what had happened within the mountains and of their return, leaving out all mention of Ruby. Fromley kept jumping in and asking questions while Sir Shamus stared at Roderick harder and harder. As the tale went on, his eyebrows rose higher and higher up his forehead until they completely disappeared into his hair.
When Roderick finished, Fromley smiled and shook his head. ‘Roderick!’ he said. ‘Roderick!’
Sir Shamus had turned red, and his eyes looked too big for his head. He kept opening and closing his mouth, but the only word that came out was an incredulous, ‘You?!’
Roderick tried to hide his pride by asking, ‘And what of you?’
As Shamus still seemed unable to properly speak, Fromley did.
‘When we left you we headed north towards Danover. We split up and searched the hills around the border there for a few days, but of course found no sign of Banfor. Then we met up again and on our way back we came across this girl. By then Shamus was a bit . . . er, frustrated by the lack of action, and –’
‘She’s a Nareean. I can tell,’ Sir Shamus said gruffly. ‘They’re different.’
The Adventures of Sir Roderick, the Not-Very Brave Page 12
