by Tony Davis
“I think the elephant was surprised and impressed by your determination,” said the handler with a laugh. “When I saw you sticking out your bottom lip and refusing to run away, even when the elephant swung its trunk at you, I thought: I’d probably go back to my pen for a little boy that brave, too.”
At that moment, somebody moved out of the shadows next to the wall where Roland and the handler were standing.
“A mouse, hey?” came a snarl. “A mouse, s-s-s-s. The constable will love to hear this. So will the King, I’m sure.”
“Leave him alone,” shouted the elephant handler, but Hector was already gone. Roland felt as if he was going to throw up.
Soon Hector and the constable were walking toward Roland.
“Roland Wright,” said the constable in his strictest, scariest voice, his bald head glinting in the sun and his huge eyebrows bouncing up and down. “You’ve let the elephant out, which is serious enough, then you escaped, which is also against the rules. Now I hear that you have a mouse as well.”
“And he’s a nasty little boy, too,” said Hector. “That alone is a good enough reason to send him home, s-s-s-s.”
The constable turned to Hector. “Sending him home is not my decision—and it is certainly not yours, young Hector. The King personally invited this Roland Wright to Twofold Castle, so the matter should be decided by His Majesty himself.”
The constable grabbed Roland by the sleeve. The next thing Roland knew, he was locked in another small room—and this one had no window. A short while later the door opened, there was yet another hand on Roland’s arm and he was marched into the Great Hall.
King John was seated on an enormous throne, surrounded by guards. The King looked far bigger and more important than he had looked out in the bailey. He also looked far less kind and gentle.
“Master Wright,” the King said, rubbing his beard. “I hear you have a mouse, which I must admit doesn’t concern me that much. Queen Margaret has to get over her fears. But far more seriously, Hector says it was you who let the elephant out. Is there any reason I shouldn’t believe one of my most senior pages?”
Roland tried to say “You shouldn’t believe him because he hates me. I didn’t let out the elephant.” But the words just fell silently out of Roland’s mouth and landed at his feet.
“It was Lord Urbunkum who got the elephant back in, Your Majesty,” said Hector. “You heard him yourself. And of course my own effort with the whip helped too, s-s-s-s. It weakened the elephant and taught it who was in charge.
“So rescuing us from the elephant was nothing to do with Roland. And even if this boy—this dirty little redhead—did have something to do with it, s-s-s-s, he would have been only undoing what he did in the first place.”
The King looked at Roland. “I’m only going to ask you one time, young man. Did you let the elephant out?”
Again Roland was so scared he seemed unable to make a sound. He knew that if he didn’t speak he was going to be locked up or sent home. But no words would come out of his mouth.
Roland had been in the royal household for just two days. He had seen very little of the castle and now, when he was finally meeting the King face to face, it was in the worst possible way. Roland was not going to be a proper page, or a squire, or a knight. He wasn’t going to make his father and his brother proud. It was so unfair.
Ten
The King Decides
“Well,” said King John, “since Roland seems unable to talk, perhaps Hector could tell us why the new page let the elephant out.”
“Because …” Hector paused to think. “Because, s-s-s-s, because he’s poor, Your Majesty, and poor children can’t be trusted.”
Hector scratched his head as if working out what to say next. “He was probably going to eat it. Yes, s-s-s-s, that’s it, he thought if something that big escaped and had to be shot, then everyone would feast on it. He wanted to eat elephant because he is angry that you don’t feed him cockentrice every night. Yes, Your Majesty, s-s-s-s, that’s why he let the elephant out.”
Hector walked up to Roland, who tensed, thinking he was about to be punched. Instead, Hector reached into Roland’s pocket and turned to the King.
“Look, Your Majesty, here’s the iron bolt from the gate, s-s-s-s, still in his pocket. What more proof could you possibly need?”
“Guards, seize this young boy right now,” the King said. As men moved in from each side, the King took off his crown, held it in his hands and looked straight into Roland’s eyes.
“Do you have any idea how disappointed I am, young Roland Wright? I gave you this marvelous opportunity to make something of your life and you’ve done this in return. My elephant—a gift from my brother—was nearly killed by the archers because you let it out. It could just as easily have squashed people to death, all because of your stupid deed.”
Roland could feel tears sliding down his cheeks as the King spoke.
“And imagine being angry, young Roland, because I don’t feed you cockentrice every night. How ungrateful. I’m going to have you shipped home forthwith, before you even receive your first proper page uniform. You should be pleased I don’t have you flogged first or sent to the dungeon to see what sort of food some people have to eat.”
Hector broke into a wide smile. He started humming to himself, although even Hector’s humming was also mixed with hissing.
“Hmmm-hmmm-hmmm, s-s-s-s, s-s-s-s, hmmm-hmmm-hmmm, s-s-s-s, hmmm-hmmm-hmmm, s-s-s-s.”
The humming and hissing stopped suddenly when three people burst into the room.
“Well, if it isn’t Humphrey Humphrey,” said Hector. “And fat little Morris, s-s-s-s, the teller of tall tales. And … who is this other person?”
“Your Majesty, Your Majesty,” Humphrey said in a trembling voice. “I know I shouldn’t interrupt, shouldn’t interrupt.” Humphrey danced around and his long straw-colored hair shook. “But, but …”
King John held up his hand and boomed over the top of Humphrey’s tiny voice: “It’s an extraordinary day when a page who is asked a question by a king won’t answer, and another who hasn’t been asked a single thing bursts in and starts talking.”
The room was now completely quiet as the King said in his sternest voice, “If you haven’t a good reason for coming in here, young Humphrey, you’ll be in just as much trouble as Roland.”
“There’s a sentry who must explain something, explain something, Your Majesty,” said Humphrey.
“Surely it can wait,” the King said impatiently.
“No, it c-a-n’t,” butted in Morris, who was so worried about what he was doing that his voice almost disappeared before the end of his first short sentence. The King’s angry gaze switched to Morris and everyone nervously waited to see what would happen next.
“Well, come up here, sentry,” the King said briskly, “and tell us what you have to say.”
“Your Majesty,” said the sentry nervously as he removed his helmet and smoothed his red and blue surcoat over his shirt of mail. “I have been on guard duty at the western tower lookout since the early morn. When I finished, Your Majesty, I told another sentry what I had seen—and these boys heard me and begged me to come and tell you, Your Majesty, the same story.”
“Out with it, man,” said the King, now losing his temper. “Be quick and get straight to the point or you’ll regret it.”
The sentry now had an even more worried tremor in his voice. And he spoke even more softly. “A few hours ago, Your Majesty …”
“Louder!” snapped the King. “And I want fewer ‘Your Majestys’ and more facts.”
“Yes, Your Maj—I mean no, Your Maj—Anyway, I saw a page sneaking around. He was looking about, as if to make sure no one saw what he was doing—but I could still see him from up on high because I was looking into the bailey while I adjusted my crossbow.
“When the boy thought no one was looking he pulled the bolt out from the top of the sliding beam on the elephant’s gate, gave the beam a bit of
a push and then ran into the shadows as fast as he could.”
“Are you telling us anything new?” asked the King. “We know that a page let the elephant out, and we know who that boy is.”
“I’m sorry, Your Maj—I didn’t know that,” said the sentry, who started to back out of the room. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
“Wait, sentry,” said the King. “Just so there are no mistakes made, perhaps you could point out the boy you saw.”
“Yes, of course, Your Maj—” said the sentry. He looked very closely at Roland, then said in a strong, clear voice, “That’s him!”
Humphrey and Morris turned almost white and Roland was ready to throw himself on the ground and scream. But as he mouthed the words “That’s him!,” the sentry spun around and pointed straight at Hector.
“And after he undid the gate,” the sentry continued in a much stronger and more confident manner, “I saw him sneak up behind another boy and put the bolt in his pocket.”
“And then,” added the sentry, who had begun to enjoy telling his story in front of such an important audience, “the boy, the one who opened the gate, went up and talked to the elephant handler, who quickly left the bailey.”
The King rubbed his beard. “I see. That’s why the elephant man insisted I had called for him. Guards—release Roland, and put Hector in the stocks straightaway.”
Roland closed his eyes and sighed the deepest sigh of relief he had ever sighed.
“Fetch Roland his new page uniform,” the King added. “And tell the cooks that tonight we will have a cockentrice in honor of the tiny boy who stared down the biggest animal to walk the earth. Yes, we will have a huge cockentrice, with fire coming out of its mouth, in honor of our newest, bravest page: Roland Wright.”
“And his mouse, Nudge,” said Roland, who suddenly found his voice had returned, and didn’t stop to think that he was standing before a king and had no right to say anything unless asked a question. Worse still, as Roland said it, he reached into his pocket and pulled Nudge out into full view of everyone in the room.
The constable, the other pages and everyone else looked aghast. Roland immediately realized what he had done and was now holding his breath in shock.
The King scrunched up his eyes and looked set to jump out of his throne, but he suddenly relaxed. Everyone else did likewise.
“And his mouse,” King John repeated in a gentle voice. “What did you say the name was?”
“It’s Nudge, Your Majesty. He’s a boy.”
“Well, then, we owe a big thank-you to Nudge as well. I am going to name him the official mouse of Twofold Castle.”
“Flaming catapults, Your Majesty …” Roland was stunned, but after a short while he started to smile. At first it was a small smile, but it grew larger and larger and larger. Soon he was smiling more widely than he had ever smiled before.
Roland thanked King John four times in a row. He bowed as low as he could at least five times and asked if Humphrey and Morris could come to the banquet too.
“I don’t see why not,” answered the King. “I think all the pages should come. All the pages, except one.”
There was a huge hooray from the pages in the room, and from Lady Mary, who had walked in to find Roland. When the cheering finally died down, Roland walked out into the bailey. Nudge was now on his right shoulder, sniffing the air with his twitchy pink nose.
As Roland moved out of the shadows and into the daylight, he could see Hector was already in the stocks, his head and hands clamped in tightly, the sun beating down on his face.
“I won’t forget this, s-s-s-s, you horrible, horrible poor boy,” Hector yelled when he saw Roland. “I’ll get you b—”
Roland was sure the word that Hector wanted to say was “back.” It never came out, though, because at that exact moment a woman threw a piece of rotten fruit at Hector. It hit him straight in the mouth.
“You should do the same,” the woman said to Roland. “What with him telling lies about you and everything.”
Roland wasn’t going to throw anything at Hector. He remembered something that Sir Gallawood had told him, about being true to yourself, about doing as well as you possibly could in every situation, and about behaving justly, nobly and never selfishly—no matter what the other person did.
That was how a good knight behaved, and that was how Roland wanted to behave. There was nothing to be gained by throwing a rotting tomato at Hector, though Roland did admit to himself it might have been fun.
Besides, Roland felt too happy to do something so mean-spirited: too happy for himself, and too happy for Nudge. Now they could both stay at the castle. Roland just wished his father and brother were here so he could tell them of his and Nudge’s adventures. He wished he could share it all with his neighbor from the village, Jenny Winterbottom. After all, she had played her own little part in helping Roland win his place at the castle.
Roland turned away from Hector and slowly looked around the bailey, finally stopping at the elephant’s pen. He stared into the big eyes of the magnificent animal and was sure he saw one of them wink at him.
Roland smiled at the elephant and then noticed the drawbridge was being opened so the King could go on a hunt. Roland looked out across the moat, over the fields and into the distant hills.
“Roland Wright,” he said to himself as he clutched the neatly folded red and blue uniform the King had personally presented. “Roland Wright, brand-new page. And his mouse, Nudge, by Royal Appointment.”
“ ,” added Nudge proudly.
Acknowledgments
The author would like to dedicate this book to his sons, William, James, and Daniel, all of whom have provided feedback and inspiration in Roland’s developing story, and to his wife, Carolyn Walsh, without whom none of it would have happened.
Others have read the manuscript and offered opinions I value: Graham Harman; David Mason-Cox; Alexa Moses; Sharon “No Relation” Davis; Lachlan and Joshua Coady; Glenn Morrison; Debbie Vermes; my brother, Damian; and my parents, Pedr and Dolores.
Many publishing people have made special efforts on behalf of “our little knight.” They include Zoe Walton, Kimberley Bennett, Justin Ractliffe, Yae Morton, and Françoise Bui. Lastly, thanks to Gregory Rogers for again bringing my words to life so vividly with his delightful illustrations.
About the Author
Tony Davis has always worked with words. He has been a book publisher, a magazine editor, and a newspaper writer. In recent years he has been a full-time book author—his most difficult but exciting job yet.
Tony has long been interested in knights and armor, and the legends and stories of the Middle Ages. His enthusiasm for the period comes through clearly in the world of Roland Wright.
When he is not putting words on paper (or screens), Tony is playing football or cricket in the backyard with his three sons, strumming a guitar, reading, hiking, or listening to music on his stereo, iPod, or hand-cranked 78-rpm record player.
About the Illustrator
Gregory Rogers studied fine art at the Queensland College of Art in Australia and has illustrated a large number of educational and trade children’s picture books. He won the Kate Greenaway Medal for his illustrations in Way Home.
His first wordless picture book, The Boy, The Bear, The Baron, The Bard, was selected as one of the New York Times Ten Best Illustrated Children’s Books of the Year and received numerous other awards and nominations. He also illustrated Midsummer Knight, the companion to The Boy, The Bear, The Baron, The Bard.
Coming Soon
Roland Wright’s knightly adventures continue in
Roland Wright #3
At the Joust
Here’s an excerpt from Chapter One:
Roland Wright couldn’t decide which was worse: the clanging great longsword that kept crashing on his helmet, rattling his teeth and threatening to cleave his head in two, or the hiccups.
Whenever he tried to defend himself, exactly the same thing happened.
“H’uppp!” then clang!
He should never have eaten those grapes. And he should never have tried to fight this knight.
They were both using longswords, large heavy weapons that were held with two hands, meaning neither fighter had a shield.
Roland pointed his leading foot toward his target: the very top of the knight’s helmet. He turned his back foot sideways for better balance. He kept his body straight and made sure his weight was on the balls of his feet. He changed his grip, holding his longsword tightly just behind the cross-guard with his stronger hand, his left hand.
But as his blade swooped, Roland was hit yet again with the pommel of the knight’s blade—doinggg!—and found himself lying on the ground, looking up at a knight raising his longsword and preparing to bring it down like a spear.
For the first time, Roland was scared.
He closed his eyes, fearing that his last word on earth would be “H’uppp!”
Excerpt copyright © 2008 by Tony Davis. Published by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
