The Band of Merry Kids

by David Skuy

  “I wonder what they’re doing,” Harold said. He pointed to a group of kids standing in a tight semicircle. Two heads rose above the crowd: two boys, each holding a long wooden staff with the ends covered in strips of wool.

  “I think it’s a joust,” Lucy said.

  “Let’s watch,” Harold said, and he ran off.

  Pip and Lucy followed at a walk.

  “Why is Pipper such an unhappy lad?” Lucy said. “You’ve wanted to come to the Bradford Fair since forever — and now you’re actually here.”

  “You’re right. I’m just tired,” Pip said.

  Pip and Lucy pushed into the crowd of onlookers. The two boys were indeed jousting. They stood on a narrow wooden plank balanced on two stacks of bricks about ten paces apart. One boy was fairly big, and he had long sandy-blond hair tied back with a strip of blue velvet. He wore a tunic over his shirt with the same coat of arms Pip had seen on the carriage that had passed them in the morning. The smaller boy was fair-haired, and the tunic he wore was simple and plain, but of good quality.

  The larger boy shook his staff menacingly. “Will you surrender and save yourself the pain? Do you still believe you can defeat the great and mighty Sir Ronald?”

  Some kids laughed at the smaller boy.

  “He’s crying,” one boy shouted. “Finish him off, Ronald.”

  The boy did look close to tears, and he rubbed his ribs with his elbow, all the while keeping a close watch on Ronald.

  “I will never surrender to the likes of you,” the smaller boy said between tightly clenched teeth.

  Pip admired his spirit. A true knight never quits in battle.

  Ronald snarled and swung his staff at the boy’s knee. The boy parried the blow and responded with a strike to Ronald’s left side. Ronald proved equally adept, and he knocked the staff aside. Without warning, Ronald crouched and swung his staff at the boy’s ankles.

  The boy leapt nimbly over the staff, landing square to Ronald, his own staff extended, a slight smile on his face. Lucy and Pip cheered the smaller boy on.

  “You need to do better than that,” the smaller boy said.

  Pip’s admiration grew. That was how to fight — fearlessly.

  Ronald took a deep breath and straightened up. “I was going to be nice. I didn’t want to hurt you. But since you show me no respect …”

  Ronald charged across the plank, his staff extended at shoulder height. The boy chopped down, but Ronald was able to block the blow, then carried through with his fists, hitting the boy in the chest. The boy was sent hurtling to the ground, and he landed with a terrible thud.

  Pip stamped his foot. He’d wanted the smaller boy to win.

  “Now hand over the money, or I’ll give you a beating you’ll never forget,” Ronald thundered. With one hand on his hip and the other holding his staff upright, he looked like a victorious knight after a great battle.

  The boy struggled to get to his feet. “You cheated,” he said. “No pushing allowed.” He rubbed his ribs and grimaced.

  Before he could say another word, Ronald leapt down and whacked him with his staff. He shoved his staff close to his face. Two other boys crowded around.

  “I didn’t push you. I hit you with my staff. Take your accusation back, or you’ll pay a high price for your lies,” Ronald said. He jabbed the boy in his stomach.

  A tear fell down the boy’s cheek. “I …” He took a breath and grabbed his ribs again. “I didn’t mean it. You won. I admit it.”

  Ronald backed away slowly. “Pay up, or you’ll feel the thunder of my staff again.”

  Pip was enraged. Ronald had obviously broken the rules. The boy got to his knees and handed Ronald a copper coin. Ronald stuffed the money in his pouch.

  “Who else dares challenge Sir Ronald to a joust on the bridge of death? Anyone?” He laughed and hopped up on the plank.

  Lucy pulled on Pip’s shoulder. “I don’t want to watch this guy,” she said. “Let’s walk around.”

  Pip shook his head. He wanted to see someone else fight Ronald — and knock that irritating smile off his face.

  “Do I have to stand here all day? Is there a single brave soul among you, or are you all sheep?” Ronald threw his head back and, with a threatening smack on the plank with his staff, let out a menacing laugh. “I’m tired of this,” he continued. “I will fight for no less than a silver shilling. Announce yourself, or else I will go — the undefeated cham-pion of all time.”

  Pip couldn’t stand his arrogance. He took his coin out of his pouch.

  “Let me borrow your money?” Pip asked Lucy.

  The color drained from her face. She began to twirl her hair. “I don’t think this is …”

  “I’ll pay you back,” he said urgently.

  She slipped her coin into his hand. He called Harold over.

  “Can I borrow your shilling?” Pip said. “I can beat this guy.”

  Harold hesitated, then gave it to him. Pip pushed his way into the middle of the circle.

  “I accept the challenge,” Pip said.

  Ronald laughed. “I have no desire to joust with a little boy. Who else?”

  Pip held the coins up in the air. “I will not fight for a silver coin. I will only fight for three,” he said.

  He imagined himself standing before the Dark Knight in his dream.

  Ronald spun his staff in a tight circle and sighed heavily. “I suppose, if I must. What is your title?”

  “I do not have a title. I am …”

  Ronald snorted with disgust. “I am the Baron Geoffrey’s son. I am of noble blood. I cannot joust with a commoner. It’s … impossible.”

  Pip snatched the staff lying on the ground and pounded it on the ground. “Your noble blood must be thin if you are afraid to joust with me,” he said.

  Ronald’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “So be it. Let us begin.”

  arold and Lucy huddled around Pip.

  “He’s a big kid,” Harold whispered. He began to chew his bottom lip.

  Lucy took hold of Pip’s staff. “Harold’s right,” she said. “He’ll try to overpower you. Don’t let him get too close. Let him tire himself out and then strike.”

  “Must I wait all day?” Ronald said. “Give up now, little boy, and I’ll let you keep your silver coins. There is no honor in beating the likes of you.”

  Lucy let go of his staff. “Knock this dunce into the next county,” she said.

  “And this is all the money we have, so …” Harold added.

  Pip climbed onto the plank. Ronald let out a roar.

  “Prepare to be defeated, knave.”

  Pip held his staff forward. He hadn’t had a lot of training, but his tutor had studied fencing in France and had taught Pip a few moves. That didn’t matter, though. Courage and will were the keys to victory.

  Ronald banged the side of the plank with his staff. “Are you coming to fight, or do I have to hunt you down?”

  Pip didn’t move. “I like it here. Why don’t you join me at my end?”

  Ronald smirked. “Did you know I have never lost a joust-ing match?”

  “Nor have I,” Pip said.

  That was true enough. This was his first.

  Ronald hit the side of the plank again. “Do not confuse foolishness with valor. They are not the same.”

  “Be ready,” Lucy called out.

  Ronald came at him quickly and swung his staff at shoulder height. Pip ducked down, and it flew over his head.

  Ronald shrugged. “That was a warning. Now you suffer.”

  He lifted his staff over his head and brought it straight down. Pip almost laughed. It was such a simple move and easily defended by raising his staff up with both hands. Instantly, Ronald dropped his hands. The padded end whacked into Pip’s ribs.

  Pip felt the air leave his
body. He took a step back. Johnson had hit him in the same place.

  Ronald wagged a finger. “Don’t fall off without letting me hit you again.”

  He wasted no time, this time attacking from the left. Pip blocked the first blow. Ronald shifted his staff across his body and came at him from the right. Pip parried that as well.

  “Not bad,” Ronald said, “but now I must finish you off — because I’m bored.” His staff flew out and in rapid succession struck Pip’s leg, stomach, and arm. “Will you submit?” he said.

  “I don’t understand what that means,” Pip said quietly.

  “Then you’re to blame for your pain.”

  Ronald unleashed another series of jabs and thrusts. Pip took two painful shots to his ribs and a knock on his thigh and knee. Worst of all, the tip of Ronald’s staff jabbed him in the tender spot where the arm meets the shoulder. Despite it all, Pip remained standing on the plank.

  Ronald straightened. He was breathing heavily. “You are beginning to anger me,” he huffed.

  Ronald caught Pip in the stomach. The force staggered Pip slightly, and he dropped to one knee. Ronald held his staff high over his head. “Begone with you.”

  “Wait,” Pip said, holding up a hand.

  “Do you submit?”

  “I have to tell you something,” Pip said.

  Ronald lowered his staff. “And what would that be?”

  Pip swung his staff with all his might. The side of his staff hit Ronald square in the ribs. Ronald cried out angrily, and his eyes flashed.

  “The trick of a coward,” Ronald snarled.

  Pip swung again, connecting with Ronald’s shoulder.

  “You hit like a child,” Ronald said. He was having trouble catching his breath.

  Lucy had been right. Ronald had tired himself out. This was his chance. Pip delivered a blow to Ronald’s other shoul-der, then his leg, and then landed a direct shot to the chest. Ronald hopped back, his face twisted in hate — but in his eyes Pip saw fear. He came forward.

  “Do you submit?” Pip said.

  Ronald scowled. He was rubbing his right shoulder and struggling to stay calm.

  “Submit, or I shall knock you to the ground,” Pip said.

  Ronald went back another step. Pip snuck a glance at Lucy and smiled. With another three silver coins they would feast like kings. Ronald dropped his staff to the ground. Pip placed the end of his staff on the plank and put his left hand on his hip. He held his head high. The Black Knight was defeated at last.

  Ronald spread his feet apart so they were on the bricks. Pip wondered what he was doing.

  “I will never submit to a commoner,” Ronald snarled, and he grabbed the end of the plank in his hands and raised it up in the air.

  Pip struggled to keep his balance, his arms flailing overhead — and then he fell.

  “You can’t do that,” Lucy cried, racing to Pip’s side. “Are you okay?” she said.

  Ronald hopped down and strutted over.

  “I confess you were a worthy opponent — worthy of my scorn,” he laughed, kicking dirt at Pip. Lucy helped Pip up.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Harold said. “That was a nasty fall.”

  “Do you need to run home to your mother?” Ronald mimicked to the great merriment of his friends.

  “You cheated again,” Pip said, “like you did with that other boy. That’s the only way you can win. You’re a coward.”

  Ronald held his staff forward and puffed out his cheeks. “You fell. I won.”

  “A true knight uses his weapon,” Pip cried.

  “Listen to him — a true knight,” Ronald laughed. “A commoner comparing himself to someone of noble blood. Ridiculous. Besides, did anyone hear me say I had to knock him off using my staff?”

  Pip’s mouth fell open.

  “You lost — so pay up,” Ronald said.

  Pip looked over to Lucy. Her face was pale. “I suppose that rule wasn’t exactly agreed on,” she said.

  Pip let his shoulders fall. He reached into his pouch and gave Ronald the money. Pip felt empty. He’d lost everything. “Robin Hood would never …”

  “Robin Hood is a criminal and a traitor to King John,” Ronald said.

  Pip clenched his fists. “He’s a …”

  Lucy pulled Pip away.

  “Let me go,” Pip sputtered.

  Lucy was too strong. She kept a tight grip until they were back on the main street.

  “Why did you do that?” Pip thundered. “I’m going to knock his teeth out and then …”

  “You have to be careful,” Lucy said. “My father told me Prince John has even made it a crime to say Robin Hood’s name in public. The Sheriff of Nottingham has soldiers here, and if they hear you, you can get in real trouble. We all can.”

  “She’s right, you know.”

  A boy stepped forward, about Lucy’s height, but thinner, with short brown hair and dark blue eyes. His clothes sug-gested his family had wealth, great wealth even, although he wore them sloppily and mud was splattered up both pant legs. His smile put Pip at ease, and he looked friendly.

  “The sheriff’s soldiers would not take kindly to praising Robin Hood. Prince John has said Robin Hood is the most dangerous criminal in England,” the boy said. “No matter. It is an honor to meet such a brave fighter and his loyal friends. My name is Archibald, son of Sir Duncan of Raventhorpe. But please, call me Archie. All my friends do. We are here, like yourselves, to see the great Bradford Fair.”

  Sir Duncan? That was the name of his father’s friend.

  Archie offered a lopsided grin. “Unfortunately, I lack your skills in battle and suffered a quick defeat at the hands of that scoundrel Ronald. It cost me five pennies.” He crossed his arms and nodded at Pip. “His father is a baron, and he acts like he’s a baron too. I think he cheated by lifting the board, by the way. You’re the champion, and Ronald’s the knave.”

  Archie bowed with great ceremony, and Pip bowed back.

  “I haven’t seen you here before. When did you arrive?” Archie said.

  “We arrived today, only two bells earlier, in fact,” Lucy said. “Our uncle, Pip’s father, has a booth in the main square, selling wool blankets. I’m Lucy, and these are my cousins, Harold and … um … like I said, this is Pip.”

  Archie gave them a curious look. “Is perhaps Pip’s father Aldwin of Nottinghamshire?”

  All three of them stared back in disbelief.

  “How do you know that?” Pip said.

  Archie clapped his hands and laughed. “This is amazing. You’re staying with us. Our fathers are friends — great friends. What a coincidence that we meet like this. You must come home with me to dine. My father is there waiting for me.”

  “It would be our honor,” Pip said.

  “Follow me, then,” Archie cried, and he kept talking the entire way until they arrived at a gray stone building.

  “That’s a very big door,” Lucy said.

  The massive entrance towered over them.

  “Indeed it is,” Archie said. “My father says he must stay in such a place because others expect it of him. Believe me, my father is not like that, and neither am I. We prefer a hut by a stream or a day hunting in the forest and sleeping under the stars. We used to do that quite often … until he had to go away … for a few years. My father says the benefits of being a knight are sometimes not worth the cost.”

  “Your father is a knight, an honest-to-goodness true knight?” Pip exclaimed.

  Archie took a deep breath. “I suppose he is,” he said softly.

  “Why was he away for a few years?” Lucy said.

  Archie looked off in the distance. “He went off to fight … in the war.”

  “So he fought with Richard the Lionheart?” Pip said.

  Archie shrugged, and his c
heeks grew red.

  “That’s incredible,” Pip said.

  A knight! He couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. To have a father who had fought in the war with Richard the Lionheart. He couldn’t wait to meet Sir Duncan. He had a million questions, and the first was how could Archie’s father possibly be friends with his? It didn’t seem possible.

  Harold reached for the door handle. Archie pulled his hand away and flicked his eyebrows at them. “My father expects me to enter through the front door. I want to surprise him. It’s a little game we play. Follow me.” He led them around the corner of the building to a tree. “See the window up there.” Archie pointed. “It leads to my father’s bedroom, but at this time he’s most likely in the study with Jeffrey, his squire. We can climb this tree and get in.”

  “Why would we do that?” Harold said. “Doesn’t the door work?”

  Archie laughed. “Like I said, it’s a game we play. We try to surprise each other. My father says it’s good training.”

  “Wouldn’t it just be easier to sneak in quietly through the front door?” Harold said.

  Archie grinned and grabbed the lowest branch with his hand. “It might be. But it wouldn’t be as much fun. Nothing wrong with an adventure once in a while.” He pulled himself up and took hold of another branch. “You can use the door if you wish.”

  Pip knew he’d found a true friend. He took hold of a branch.

  ip had never seen the likes of such a bedroom. The floor was covered with a massive carpet, which he guessed was from faraway Persia, a puzzle of precisely stitched red, green, and blue geometric shapes. His father had told him about Persian carpets. He’d seen them once at the London Fair. To hear a description was one thing; to think he was actually standing on one was almost too much to be believed. The four-poster bed was bigger than Pip’s entire bedroom in Nottinghamshire, and he couldn’t imagine how the artists had carved such intricate pictures into the bed’s side panels. Two silver candlesticks, taller than he, guarded the door. It was like he’d been transported by a magic carpet into a sultan’s chamber.