by Kit Pearson
“A superstition is something that is untrue but that many people believe is true,” said Fa. “Like thinking that black cats are bad luck.”
“They are bad luck!” said Orly. “I’m glad Hamlet is grey and not black.”
Fa kissed the top of Orly’s head. “You can think they are if you like.”
Corrie watched Orly enviously; it didn’t seem so long ago that she’d had that place on Fa’s lap. She had to be content with leaning against his legs while she waited for a break in the chatter. Then she told Fa about reading The Eagle of the Ninth and asked him to tell her something about the Roman Empire. She had his whole attention for twenty minutes, and she learned a lot. Fa knew everything! He was better than an encyclopedia.
Then Fa asked them his usual weekly question: “Is everything all right, my dears? Are you managing with Mrs. Smith?”
“Mrs. Oliphant!” cried Juliet. “But we call her the Elephant!”
“Ah, yes, of course … Mrs. Oliphant. I hope you don’t call her that to her face, Juliet. You must never hurt people’s feelings, you know. Is she doing a good job? Is she kind?”
Sebastian shot the others a warning glance. “Mrs. Oliphant is very nice to us. Everything’s fine, Fa.”
“I hope so,” said Fa. “I don’t want to overburden you. I can afford to hire Mrs. Elephant to stay longer in the evenings if you like.” Juliet shrieked at his mistake, but Corrie knew that he’d said it on purpose.
“We really don’t need her,” Sebastian said. “We’re fine in the evenings—right, Roz?” Roz looked as if she wanted to contradict him, but she didn’t dare do anything but nod in agreement.
Corrie sighed. How could Fa not notice the dirty and untidy house and the awful meals? But he never did.
It was Sebastian’s turn to cook Sunday supper. He made what he always did—hot dogs and carrot sticks. Harry sulked when Orly beat him in a hot-dog-eating contest: he ate three and a half to Orly’s four.
After the meal they went back into the den and Fa read to them. He had a deep, rich voice, with a slight overlay of an English accent; he’d come to Canada from Devon when he was sixteen. Every Sunday in Corrie’s life she had listened to him. What wonderful stories they had heard in this room! Lamb’s Tales from Shakespeare, Grimms’ Household Tales, The Jungle Books …
Tonight Fa was reading A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. Because there were knights in it, they all listened especially avidly. Corrie had managed to squeeze in beside Fa.
She stopped listening as a memory arose in her mind. She and Roz were sitting on each side of Aunt Madge on the same chesterfield, pushing into her and wailing like babies.
“You cry too, Sebastian,” Aunt Madge had said, gazing with concern at eleven-year-old Sebastian standing by the fireplace. “Do try to, dear. It will help you feel better.”
Sebastian had given Aunt Madge a look of utter scorn. “Don’t tell me what to do! You’re not my mother!”
Corrie had climbed onto Aunt Madge’s lap and cried even harder.
The memory vanished when Orly clapped his hands to his mouth and dashed out of the room. Roz ran after him. When she came back a few minutes later with a pale-looking Orly, Harry said, “I won! Now I have more hot dogs inside me than you have!”
“I still ate more!”
“Now, boys,” said Fa weakly. He looked at Sebastian. “Isn’t it time for bed?”
4
A Quarrel
Corrie and Meredith sat in Meredith’s bedroom, a plate of peanut butter cookies between them. Corrie leaned against two of the many stuffed dogs that crowded the bed.
“Tell me about your game,” urged Meredith.
Corrie flushed. “Well,” she began slowly, “we’re all knights of the Round Table. Sebastian is Sir Lancelot, the bravest knight—he’s our leader. We pretend Fa is King Arthur, who’s always away on a quest. And sometimes he’s Merlin, because he knows so much. Roz is Sir Gawain, and now I’m Sir Gareth. That’s what we were doing on the golf course—I had just been dubbed. Harry’s the squire for all the knights, and Juliet and Orly are our pages.”
“Cool!” said Meredith. She didn’t seem to think any of this was too weird. “I know all about knights—I got a book about them for Christmas last year. But why are you all men?” she said. “Why isn’t anyone Guinevere or Elaine?”
Corrie shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess because knights have more adventures than ladies. Sometimes Guinevere is around, but she’s imaginary. Lots of people have to be made up because there aren’t enough of us.”
“How long have you been playing this?”
“For a couple of years,” said Corrie. “I was a page first, then Sebastian’s squire. I groomed his horse and rode beside him in battle. Just pretending, of course,” she added quickly.
Meredith nibbled on a cookie. “Sebastian really seems like a knight. I think I’m afraid of him!”
“You don’t have to be. He was just surprised to see you on Saturday.”
“Is he bossy in real life too? When you’re not playing your game, I mean.”
“He’s not bossy! He’s the nicest, kindest brother anyone could have!” Corrie tried to smile. “Maybe he seems bossy, but that’s because he’s our leader. He makes up our meal and bath schedules and gives out our allowances and tells us when to go to bed. We all help, of course. Roz buys our clothes, I make the lunches every day, and Harry and I take turns walking the twins home from school.”
“But why doesn’t your father do any of that?”
Too many questions! But now that Meredith was her friend, Corrie had to try to answer patiently. “Fa’s always busy,” she said. “He has very important work to do—he teaches classes and he’s writing a book!”
“That’s important,” said Meredith solemnly. Then she giggled. “Why does Sebastian have such long hair? It makes him look like a girl!”
“He has to have long hair because Sir Lancelot had long hair—we have a picture. And I don’t think he looks at all like a girl,” Corrie added tightly.
“Sorry,” said Meredith. “I don’t really think he does. I think he’s handsome. I wish Sebastian would let me play your game with you. I could be your squire!”
“I wish he would too.”
“I know,” said Meredith eagerly. “Why don’t we pretend I’m your squire? Or I could be another knight! I could be Sir Perceval or Sir Galahad! You and I could go on quests and things, just like your family does. We’d be secret knights!”
“I don’t think we should,” Corrie said hastily. “I don’t think Sebastian would like it.”
“But he’d never know!”
“Maybe not, but I just don’t want to, okay?”
Meredith shrugged. “Okay. Let’s have a dog show, then.”
Meredith had twenty-two stuffed animals. Corrie was especially intrigued by the tiny ones arranged in a circle on her chest of drawers: four bears, two raccoons, and a squirrel.
Nine dogs lived on the bed. It was fun to arrange them in groups for the judges, and to make awards out of cardboard for the best-groomed, best-behaved, and best-looking dog. They were deep into the game when Meredith’s mother knocked at the door.
“What do you think, girls?” she asked. On her head was perched a blue hat. A purple one was in her hand. “I’m trying to choose,” she told them, coming in and sitting on the chair. “Which one do you like the best? The altar guild at St. George’s is having a tea, and I want to make a good impression.”
Mrs. Cooper would always make a good impression, thought Corrie. She was round like her daughter, but her face was so open and friendly. She wore bright lipstick and colourful clothes.
“Try on the other one,” ordered Meredith, getting up and helping her mother adjust it. “No, I like the blue one best. What do you think, Corrie?”
“I like it best too,” said Corrie shyly.
“The blue one it is, then! I’ll take the other one back.”
Meredith had crammed the purple
hat on her head. She snatched the blue one from her mother’s head and put it on Corrie’s.
“Look how that hat brings out the colour in your eyes, Corrie,” said Mrs. Cooper. “You’re going to be very pretty when you grow up.”
Corrie blushed. No one had ever said this to her before. She gazed at her face in the mirror, framed by the hat. Roz and Juliet were the pretty ones, not her. Her nose was too long and her face was so thin and freckled. She had never cared; knights didn’t have to be pretty. But Mrs. Cooper was right. Beneath her long bangs her eyes looked bluer than usual.
“You have such shiny brown hair,” Mrs. Cooper told her. “It would look lovely with the ends curled.”
Corrie took off the hat and examined her bone-straight hair in the mirror.
“Would you like me to put it in pincurls for you?” Before Corrie could object, Mrs. Cooper had fetched a comb, some water, and a dish of bobby pins. Corrie sat in a chair while Mrs. Cooper deftly fastened strands of her hair into tight curlicues, crossing each round with two bobby pins. When she had finished, Corrie’s head was a helmet of pins. They prickled, but she tried not to protest.
“There you go!” Mrs. Cooper patted her head. “It should be dry in about an hour, then I’ll brush it out for you.”
Corrie and Meredith went back to their dog show. “I hope you don’t mind,” said Meredith when her mother had left the room. “Mum likes playing with hair, and she can’t do much with mine because it’s already naturally curly.”
“It’s okay,” Corrie told her, although she was afraid of what she would look like.
When the curls were all brushed out she examined herself warily.
“Wow!” said Meredith.
“You look gorgeous,” said Mrs. Cooper.
Corrie was horrified. A stranger stared back at her, a fuzz of curls springing artificially from the ends of her hair. She looked like a teenager!
Mrs. Cooper hugged her. “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t like it, do you? Don’t worry, it’ll be straight again in the morning. I’m sorry I did it. Do you forgive me?”
Corrie smiled. How could she not? She hated her hair, but it wouldn’t last. It was almost worth going through the ordeal to get such a friendly hug.
“WHO CURLED YOUR HAIR?” Roz asked her in the kitchen. “I love it!”
“I don’t,” said Sebastian.
Corrie rushed to the sink and ran the cold-water tap. Gasping with the shock, she soaked her hair, then dried it on the dish towel. “There!” she said with relief. “All gone!”
“Oh, Corrie, why did you do that?” Roz shook her head. “You’re such a tomboy!”
“Leave her alone, Roz,” said Sebastian. “She’s only eleven. She’s much too young to curl her hair, and besides, knights don’t care what their hair looks like.”
“You do,” said Roz bravely. “If you got yours cut you’d look more normal.”
“My hair is my manhood,” said Sir Lancelot. “If I cut it I will lose my courage. Pray do not ever suggest it again, Sir Gawain!”
He and Roz glared at each other. Lately the two of them had been more like a quarrelling brother and sister than fellow knights.
CORRIE STARTED GOING HOME with Meredith during lunch hour. At first she took her own carelessly made, dry sandwich with her. But the homemade soup, toasted sandwiches, puddings, and cookies that Mrs. Cooper offered her were so scrumptious that she started throwing away the sandwich. This was so much better than sitting in an almost empty classroom, a bored-looking teacher at the desk, with Harry and the twins and the few other kids who had to bring their lunch to school.
When it was Harry’s turn to take home Juliet and Orly, Corrie spent the afternoon at Meredith’s house. Soon she was sometimes staying for dinner on those days as well. Afterwards Mr. Cooper and Meredith would walk her home.
One Saturday morning at a Round Table meeting, Corrie was called to account for this. “Sir Gareth, you are eating too many meals at Meredith’s house,” Sir Lancelot told her. “It is not right. Her mother will think we are beggars.”
“She doesn’t mind,” said Corrie. “She really likes cooking. Last night she made something called lasagna.” Her mouth watered at the memory.
“This will not do,” said Sir Lancelot sternly. “You and Sir Gawain are either away or late almost every night. I have to get dinner ready by myself, when we are supposed to be taking turns. I want this to stop immediately.”
Roz looked furious. “That’s not fair, Sebastian!” she cried. “You know I have baton two times a week, and other days I have drama and Glee Club. It’s not any trouble to serve what the Elephant makes, and I always make dinners on Saturdays. And you don’t have to wait for me—I can get something later.”
“Sir Gawain, you are speaking out of turn. Kindly show more respect, and kindly address me by my proper name.”
“I’ll say what I want to, Sebastian,” sneered Roz. “And I’ll do what I want, too. School is really important to me right now. I’m not giving anything up!”
Sebastian glared at her. “The king does not like it,” he said icily. “Last night he asked where you both were.”
Roz’s voice cracked, as if she were about to cry. “I’m sorry if Fa doesn’t like it, but he’ll have to get used to it. Things can’t always stay the same, Seb.”
She stood up, gave Sebastian a pleading look, and ran out of the shed.
The others sat there stunned. Orly edged closer to Corrie and took her hand. Corrie looked at Sebastian’s stricken face. “I’m sorry, sire,” she whispered. “If I’m home every night for dinner, can I still go for lunch? Mrs. Cooper really doesn’t mind.”
Sebastian smiled at her. “Thank you, Sir Gareth. That seems like a good compromise.” Then he frowned. “I am wroth at Sir Gawain, who is acting strangely out of character. We will all send him to Coventry until he comes to his senses.”
“Send him where?” asked Juliet.
“To Coventry. That means we will not speak to Sir Gawain all evening as a punishment,” said Sir Lancelot.
“Not speak to Roz?” said Orly. He looked scared. “But what if she asks me something?”
“Do not answer,” said Sir Lancelot grimly. He looked at their glum faces. “Let us forget this matter. Would you like to play Bestiary?”
“Yes!” said Juliet. She pulled out the bag of cards. Sebastian had invented the game last winter. He had drawn and labelled pictures of medieval beasts, then cut each card in half. They took turns drawing a half and placing it in the middle of the table. If a match came up, the first person to slap it and say “Beast!” got the pile. The game ended when one person ended up with all the cards.
“Beast!” cried Harry as he slapped a picture of a basilisk.
“Beast!”
“Ow, Orly, that was my hand!”
“Beast!”
“I said it first!”
“No, you didn’t, I did!”
The playing became more and more boisterous as pictures of dipsas, manticores, griffins, and wethers were completed. The others were completely absorbed in the game, but Corrie couldn’t pay attention and went out first.
She smiled at the racket but she felt sick to her stomach. She had never seen Sebastian and Roz quarrel like this. The Round Table had always been so harmonious: A knight is courteous. A knight is generous and kind.
Corrie had managed to placate Sebastian, but she was just as guilty as Roz. Ever since she’d become friends with Meredith she had neglected her family.
How could she do anything to bother Sebastian and Fa? Corrie resolved to be home every evening from then on.
SEBASTIAN WAS THE ONLY KNIGHT who managed to send Roz to Coventry. Corrie tried, but she was so torn by Roz’s hurt expression that it lasted only a few minutes. The younger ones forgot immediately and chattered to Roz as usual.
“It’s too hard for them,” Corrie told Sebastian as they washed the dishes. “It’s hard for me, too.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, I don’t think it’s ri
ght to ask us to punish Roz like that. We aren’t mad at her.”
She quivered inside. Would Sebastian send her to Coventry as well for defying him?
But he only looked tired. “I’m not angry with Roz any more. I just don’t understand her! Sometimes she doesn’t seem part of this family or the Round Table any more.”
The Round Table was the family, Corrie thought. That made it doubly secure and safe—but also doubly hard to include anyone or anything outside it, like Meredith or baton.
She glanced at Sebastian’s discouraged face. “How’s school these days?” she asked carefully. “Are those boys still being mean to you?”
He lowered his head. “I do not wish to talk about school, Gareth. I have told you before, it is not real.”
That meant he was still being bullied. If only she were really Sir Gareth and could smite Terry and his gang with her sword! But there was nothing she could do.
Sebastian tried to smile. “How’s school for you, Corrie? Do you like your teacher?”
“Oh, yes! He’s new. His name is Mr. Zelmach and he’s really nice.” She told Sebastian about how Mr. Zelmach didn’t believe in homework.
“You’re lucky,” grimaced Sebastian. “I have tons of homework this year. I guess I’d better go upstairs and do it.” He started out of the kitchen, but Corrie stopped him. She had thought of something to cheer him up.
“I have a request, Sir Lancelot. Could we not have a feast next weekend? We have not had one for a long time.”
Sebastian’s face relaxed. “An excellent idea, Gareth! A feast would do us all good. I praise your initiative for suggesting it. I will begin the preparations for it tomorn.”
ROZ CONTINUED TO BE EDGY with Sebastian, but to Corrie’s relief, she attended the feast. Sebastian gave Corrie money to buy potato chips, crackers and cheese, salami, and pop. Sir Lancelot told them they were eating wild boar, peacock, whale, swan, and rabbits. The squire and the pages carefully served each knight, then they helped themselves. They were allowed to eat with their hands.
“Sir Lancelot, tell us how you found the naked woman!” asked Orly.
“The one in the boiling water!” added Juliet.
