by Peter Bently
He quickly scuttled off and hid behind a tapestry hanging on the far wall. I flung myself under a long bench on one side of the door.
From my hiding place I could hear a commotion on the landing. There seemed to be two people at the door. One was Peggy. The other sounded a bit deep and gruff for the princess.
“No!” I heard Peggy say. “You can’t go in there, sir!”
“Rubbish!” said the gruff voice. “I’ve waited long enough. Outta my way!”
The door burst open and someone stomped past me across the room. I dared to peek and saw a pair of legs striding towards the table with the tray on it. Then I heard the clink of glass followed by a rather unladylike slurping.
I stared at the legs again. They were wearing black armour.
Black armour?
And then I spotted a pink silk dress slip out from behind the tapestry.
“No, Sir Percy!” I shouted, crawling from my hiding place. “Stop!”
It was too late.
“Your Highness!” he declared. “It is I, Sir Percy the Proud. Your future husb—AARRGH!”
Sir Percy stared in horror at the person who had just walked into the chamber.
It wasn’t the princess. It was Sir Roland!
“Ah! Oh! I – um – hello, Sir Roland!” he babbled. “What an – um – an unexpected pleasure! I was – er – just – um – I mean, I – I can explain…”
Sir Roland’s jaw dropped. He stared at Sir Percy in utter amazement. Uh-oh. Things did NOT look good for Sir Percy. Any second now, Sir Roland was going to blast him with the biggest torrent of ridicule. Once the story got out Sir Percy would never, EVER live it down.
But Sir Roland didn’t say a word. His eyes had a strange, glazed look. I thought it was just the shock of seeing Sir Percy in a dress. But then I noticed the lemonade glass on the tray. It was empty.
That slurping sound… Oh no!
A weird dreamy smile started to spread across Sir Roland’s face. He raised both arms and started to move towards Sir Percy.
“My beloved!” he sighed soppily. “Come here!” Sir Roland puckered up his lips and lurched at Sir Percy.
“Look, let’s be sensible, Roland, old chap!” Sir Percy whimpered. He grabbed a chair to fend off his besotted arch-enemy. “W-why don’t we j-just sit down and talk about it, eh?”
“Aw, don’t be shy!” simpered Sir Roland, whacking the chair aside. “Your darling Rolykins only wants a little kiss!”
Rolykins?
Sir Percy dropped the chair and started to run.
“C-Cedric, help!” he shrieked, stumbling over his skirts as Sir Roland chased him round the chamber.
“Hur-hur! Playing hard to get, are we?” cackled Sir Roland. “You little minx! Let’s have a cuddle!”
I made a rather feeble attempt to grab Sir Roland but he was too quick for me.
“Aargh!”
RRRIP!
Poor Sir Percy had tripped on his hem, tearing a hole in the dress and tumbling headlong into a corner of the chamber.
“Now I’ve got you, my lovely!” sighed Sir Roland. He puckered up his lips again.
Sir Percy was trapped.
“Cedric!” he wailed, as Sir Roland leaned forward to try to plant a great beardy smacker on his cheek. “For goodness’ sake! Do something!”
I had to act fast. In a flash I saw that Sir Roland was standing on one end of a small rug. I bent down and yanked the other end of it with all my might. Sir Roland gave a great bellow of surprise as he lost his balance and toppled in a heap. Luckily my master rolled out of the way just in time.
“Hurry, Sir Percy!” I cried. “Now’s your chance!”
Sir Percy didn’t need telling twice. With a squawk he hitched up his dress, sprinted across the room in terror, and leaped for cover behind a large couch. His pink pointy hat flew off and landed nearby.
“Ungh? Where am I?” said Sir Roland, groggily getting to his feet. “What happened, boy?”
“Er – I think you tripped, Sir Roland!” I said, desperately buying time. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sir Percy’s hand creeping from behind the couch towards the pointy hat.
The goofy, dreamy look came back into Sir Roland’s eyes.
“Ah, yes, I remember,” he gurgled softly. “Where is she? Where’s my sweetheart?”
He scanned the room. Sir Percy’s hand grabbed the hat and shot back behind the couch in the nick of time.
“Oh, she – she’s left, Sir Roland,” I stammered.
“Left?” quailed Sir Roland. He began to sob. “Waah! My beloved has left me! Waahaaaaaah!”
“She went that way!” I flung open the door to the chamber. “She – she went…downstairs!”
Sir Roland ran out of the door and down the landing, hollering, “Come back, my darling! Come back to your Rolykins!”
I quickly shut the door after him. “You can come out now, Sir Percy!” I hissed.
“Phew!” said Sir Percy, as he crawled from behind the couch. “Really, Cedric, you might have got rid of him sooner. He came so close to kissing me I could smell what he had for lunch!”
“Er, sorry, Sir Percy,” I said. And next time I will let him kiss you, you ungrateful so-and-so. Whose idea was this stupid love potion anyway?
“So, where were we?” said Sir Percy. “Pass me the potion.”
“Really, Sir Percy?” I blurted. “Don’t you think we should just get out of here? Somebody’s bound to have heard Sir Roland!”
“Precisely, Cedric,” said Sir Percy. “And at this very moment the entire castle will be chasing after him. It’s the perfect distraction.” He poured out another glass of lemonade and tipped a large dose of potion into it. “No point in holding back now we’ve seen what this stuff can do, eh?”
But suddenly we heard footsteps approaching the chamber. As they came closer I recognized the voices of the High Steward – and the princess!
There was no time to hide. Then I spotted a narrow door next to one of the tapestries. From a distance it looked like it was just part of the panelling. But close up I saw that it had a small doorknob and a little brass sign:
“Quick, Sir Percy, in here!” I hissed.
We crammed ourselves into the royal loo just as the chamber door opened.
“What on earth is going on, Countess?” I heard the princess say. “What’s Sir Roland doing in the castle? I ordered him to wait outside!”
“Indeed, Your Highness,” said the High Steward. “But young Peggy answered the door and there he was with that weedy squire of his. She managed to keep out his squire, but Sir Roland barged in demanding to see you!”
“Me?” said the princess. “It’s not me he’s after. He just ran straight past me jabbering on about some other woman. Men are so fickle! I didn’t fancy him anyway, great hairy brute. Who do you think he’s after? Surely not one of the servants?”
“Who else? There are no other ladies in the castle,” declared the High Steward. “Hold on. Maybe it was that girl who locked me in the servants’ privy. Aha! Yes, that’s it! She tricked me so she could meet Sir Roland!”
Nice one, Patchcoat!
“What? A servant locked you in the privy?” gasped the princess.
“Yes, Your Highness. She was with you when I saw you earlier. After you’d changed your dress. Though I see you’ve changed back again.”
“I don’t know who you saw earlier,” said the princess, “but it definitely wasn’t me. I’ve worn this dress all day.”
“Really, Your Highness?” said the High Steward. “How very odd.”
“Indeed,” said the princess. “Anyway, how did you get out of the privy?”
“The cook eventually heard me calling,” said the High Steward.
“Well, we’d better catch Sir Roland and that girl who locked you up,” said the princess. “Now, here’s what we’ll do…”
The princess must have turned away because I didn’t catch the rest. I just heard the High Steward saying, “Very good, Your
Highness,” and then footsteps leaving the chamber. I guessed the High Steward had left the princess alone in the chamber.
I pressed my ear to the privy door and heard a slight chink and a glugging noise.
I turned to Sir Percy. “I think the princess is drinking the potion!”
But then I heard a voice splutter “Ugh!” followed by footsteps rapidly heading in our direction!
“Sir Percy! She’s coming this way!” I hissed.
“What?” panicked Sir Percy. “Hide, Cedric! Whatever happens the princess must see me first!”
Hide? In a loo? In a panic I managed to squeeze myself to one side of the door just as the person outside flung it open.
“This lemonade is disgusting!” she said. “The only place for it is down the privy!”
But the person clutching the lemonade jug wasn’t the princess at all. It was the High Steward!
“Good heavens!” screeched the High Steward. “Sir Percy! What on earth is the meaning of … of…”
She stopped. I slid out from behind the door to see her eyes going all goofy and soppy.
Uh-oh.
“Your S-Stewardship!” stuttered Sir Percy. “I – I – can explain… You see, I thought you were the princess…”
“The princess? Don’t worry, my darling, Her Highness won’t disturb us! She has gone to speak to the guards about some naughty knights,” she said dreamily. “Oh, Sir Percy! You look so handsome in that dress!” The High Steward pushed Sir Percy on to the loo seat, plumped herself on his lap and threw her arms round his neck. “Now, Sir Percy, how about a tiny little peck?”
“Oh – er – m-my dear lady!” he stammered. “There appears to be – to be – some mistake!”
“Mistake? Oh, you are a joker, Sir Percy!” warbled the High Steward. “I knew it when I first saw you! Imagine the fun we’ll have when we’re married!”
“Married?” squawked Sir Percy. “Cedric, do something!”
He wriggled frantically. But the High Steward didn’t budge.
“What an excellent game, my darling!” she trilled. “What shall we play next?”
I saw my chance. “Er – hide-and-seek!” I said. “Sir Percy loves hide-and-seek, don’t you, Sir Percy?”
“Do I, Cedric?” he moaned feebly.
“Yes, Sir Percy,” I said, desperately trying to get him to twig. “It’s your favourite game, remember?”
“Oh, Sir Percy, I adore hide-and-seek, too!” said the High Steward. “Let’s play, my darling, let’s!”
“Sir Percy especially loves to hide first,” I said. “Don’t you, Sir Percy?”
“Ah! Yes! Yes!” he said, finally seeing what I was getting at. “Hide first! Yes, indeed! Most definitely!”
“Well, go on then, my beloved Percy-wercy!” chortled the High Steward, climbing off Sir Percy’s lap. “You hide in the chamber while I stay here and count.”
“To a hundred, mind!” said Sir Percy. “And no peeking!”
“Very well, my darling. Off you go!” She blew Sir Percy a kiss. Then she shut her eyes and started to count, “One, two, three…”
We slipped out of the Privy Privy and tiptoed across the chamber. We carefully opened the door to the landing and were checking the coast was clear when Patchcoat appeared at the top of the servants’ stairs.
“Wotcher!” he said. “Sorry I took so long. I kept having to dodge all these castle guards. The bad news is I heard one of them saying they’d found the boat.”
“Bother!” said Sir Percy. “We’ll need another way of getting off the island. But whatever we do, we can’t stay here. The High Steward will have nearly counted to a hundred!”
“Eh?” said Patchcoat. “But I locked her in the servants’ loo!”
“We know,” I said, heading for the servants’ stairs. “But the cook let her out.”
“Oh well,” said Patchcoat. “At least it bought you some time to do the potion business. Did it work?”
“Er, yes … and no,” I said. “I’ll explain on the way. We need to get out of here without the High Steward or Sir Roland seeing Sir Percy!”
“Sir Roland?” gasped Patchcoat. “You mean he’s in the castle?”
I briefly told Patchcoat what had happened as we dashed down the stairs to the kitchen. We reached the bottom – only to run right into Peggy.
“Afternoon, Your Highness!” she said, curtsying to Sir Percy.
“Peggy!” I said. “It’s Sir Percy. And me, Cedric!”
Peggy looked up and gasped. “Gracious me, so it is!” she said. “You do look funny, Cedric! Why are you dressed up like that?”
“We have to get off the island,” I said. “Please will you help us? If we’re caught we’ll all be locked in the tower!”
“Or worse,” pleaded Sir Percy. “If the High Steward or Sir Roland catch me first!”
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Peggy. “I mean, I’d really like to –” she glanced at me – “but if old Stew… – er – the High Steward found out, I’d lose my job.”
“Please, my dear girl!” whined Sir Percy. “There’s no time to lose!”
“Oh, well, I’d hate to see you locked in the tower.” Peggy smiled at me and I felt that funny warm feeling come back to my face. “And if we’re careful no one’ll see us. So yes, I will help you. I know where there’s an old rowing boat. Cook uses it to go fishing. Come on!”
“Hold on!” said Sir Percy suddenly. “It won’t do to travel home dressed like this. Cedric, fetch my armour. But hurry!”
Patchcoat and I dashed into the servants’ privy. Patchcoat hastily gathered up his clothes and mine while I retrieved Sir Percy’s armour.
Making sure no one was in sight, Peggy led the way out of the kitchen and into the woods. Sir Percy huffed as his pink dress caught on the brambles and thorns. At least he didn’t have to stumble along carrying about half a ton of metal.
We finally came to a dense bit of woodland away from the castle. “There it is,” said Peggy, pointing to an old rowing boat under some bushes.
“Splendid!” said Sir Percy. “Now let’s get out of here!”
Peggy, Patchcoat and I started to pull the boat down to the shore. Suddenly we heard voices nearby.
“Oh, Sir Roland!” whined Walter. “I wondered where you were. That silly girl shut the door in my face! Did you see the princess, Sir Roland? Are you going to marry her?”
“Princess? Don’t be silly, Walter!” roared the reply. “There’s only one woman I’m interested in. And, oh joy! There she is! Come here, my darling!”
To Sir Percy’s horror, Sir Roland suddenly lumbered out of the bushes towards him – with Walter in hot pursuit.
“Arrgh! Help!” yelped Sir Percy.
He looked about for somewhere to run.
“A tree, Sir Percy!” I cried.
Sir Percy scrambled frantically up the nearest tree. But he wasn’t quite fast enough. Sir Roland grabbed his dress and started to pull.
“Come to your Rolykins, my darling!” bellowed Sir Roland. “Just one little peck for your Rolykins!”
“Stop, Sir Roland!” wailed Walter, trying to pull him off Sir Percy. “What are you doing?” He turned and glared at me. “You’re behind this, Fatbottom, I know it! What have you done to my master?”
And then someone else appeared out of the bushes.
“Coo-eee! Found you, you naughty Percy-wercy! Come down from that tree and give us a kiss!”
The High Steward!
“CEDRIC!” shrieked Sir Percy, as she, too, grabbed hold of his dress.
“My word!” gasped Peggy. “Have they both gone bonkers?”
“Er – long story,” I said. “I’ll tell you later. Let’s help my master first!”
Walter, Patchcoat, Peggy and I all tried to drag Sir Roland and the High Steward off. But I reckon the potion must have given the pair of them superhuman strength. They just clung on even harder.
“Mine!” wailed Sir Roland.
“Mine!” whined the
High Steward.
“Good grief!” cried another voice. As if things couldn’t get any worse, the princess strode out of the bushes followed by several guards. “Sir Roland! Countess! What is the meaning of this? Why is Sir Percy still here? And why is he wearing my best frock?”
“Help!” cried Sir Percy. “I can’t hold on much longer!”
RRRRIIIIPP!
The pulling was too much for Sir Percy’s dress. With a horrible tearing sound, the whole lower part suddenly came away.
“My dress!” cried the princess, as all six of us went flying backwards – and landed in the lake with a terrific SPLASH!
The guards ran to help us out.
“What’s going on?” said Sir Roland.
“Where am I?” said the High Steward.
It must have been the shock of the cold water. The love potion had suddenly worn off.
“Yikes,” I muttered to Patchcoat, as I shook the stinking pond-slime from my clothes. “The princess is going to be SO mad!”
“I’m not so sure about that,” chuckled Patchcoat. “Look!”
Her Royal Highness was in hysterics, with tears of laughter running down her face. And then I saw Sir Percy.
“Now look here!” he said. “Will someone please help me down?”
He was still dangling from the tree, wearing only half a dress. And no wonder the princess was laughing.
His bare bottom was on display for all to see.
“Sir Percy was really lucky!” said Patchcoat.
“Lucky?” I said. “He was so embarrassed!” It was going to take a long time to get the picture of Sir Percy’s bottom out of my head.
“Yeah, but if he hadn’t given the princess such a good laugh she definitely would have locked him in the tower,” said Patchcoat. “And us, too, probably. Sir Percy was lucky she let him go as long as he promised to pay for two new dresses.”
