by Chris Blake
“Ha!” Isis said.
The knight cried out in pain. “Ow! Did you just throw something at me?” he said to his companion.
The second dragon knight shook his head. “Why would I do that?” he asked.
“Here,” said Tom, quickly grabbing some pine branches and handing them to Isis and Al. “Camouflage.”
“Camou-what?” asked Al.
“Use these branches as a disguise so that we blend in,” explained Tom.
Isis fired another stone at the knight, this time hitting his left knee.
“Hey! Quit that!” said the injured knight.
“I told you, I didn’t do anything!” said his friend.
As the two knights squabbled over the mysterious attack, Tom, Isis and Al darted out from behind their boulder. Holding the pine branches in front of them, they crept towards the cave and slipped inside. They made straight for the long, deep shadows at the back.
“It’s very dark in here,” Al whispered.
Tom blinked and stared into the gloom. The air was damp and cold. Suddenly, he noticed a golden glow much further into the cave.
“Do you see what I see?” Tom said, nudging Isis.
“I certainly do,” she whispered.
“Cor, it’s heavy,” Al said, holding up the shining sword for Tom to see. “But it’s not half pretty.”
“It’s brilliant,” Tom said. “Solid gold, I bet.”
As if under a spell, Isis carefully stroked the sparkling green amulet set into the base of the blade. “Yes, it is solid gold,” she said, sighing longingly. “I should know – I used to have plenty of it.”
Al swung the sword through the air. It made a satisfying swishing noise.
“I’ve never handled anything so grand before,” he said. “Look at the hilt on it.”
The carving on the hilt was impressive. Tom’s heart fluttered and his mouth was suddenly dry with excitement.
“Should we try to get the amulet out of the sword now?” he whispered.
“Good idea,” Isis murmured. “But it’ll be easier outside the cave where there’s more light.”
“Come on, Al,” Tom called over. “Let’s get back to the king with this.”
Just as they started to make their way back through the cave, they heard a frantic yowling coming from outside.
“It’s Fluffpot!” cried Isis. “Cleo’s warning us that someone’s coming!”
Sure enough, hooves clattered by the cave’s entrance. These were followed by the sounds of swords clashing together. Next, footsteps thundered through the cave – coming closer, closer, closer. The sound bounced off the stone walls like hammers on an anvil.
“Oh no!” Tom said. “Percival!”
It was too late to hide. Percival drew his dagger and pointed it at them.
“Hand over the sword or I shall cut your throats!” Percival demanded, his nasty voice echoing through the cave.
Tom gulped. He looked at the gleaming, golden sword. He couldn’t let Percival take the sword away from Al. Without the amulet, he and Isis would be stuck in King Arthur’s England forever. But he also didn’t fancy dying!
Tom wracked his brains to remember the skills he had learned at Atillus’s gladiator school in Ancient Rome. Hadn’t he fought bravely against the undefeated hero in the arena?
I’ve got to distract him – to wrong-foot him somehow, Tom thought. Foot… feet… hmmm.
He stared at Percival’s fine boots – the ones he was so proud of. They were laced up to the knees, with tassels dangling from the front. I know just the thing! Tom thought.
“Look out!” Tom said, pointing at Percival’s feet, “You’re standing in a puddle!”
“My boots!” Percival yelped, looking down.
In that split second, Isis kicked the dagger out of Percival’s hand.
Furious, Percival roared, “How dare you trick me!” He grabbed Tom and Isis by the scruffs of their necks and lifted them off the ground.
“Put those children down. Let’s fight like men,” Al cried, brandishing the golden weapon.
“No! Not until you give me the sword!” hissed Percival.
With her legs kicking out uselessly like a puppet, Isis cried, “Let go of me, you big lump!” She grabbed a handful of Percival’s long hair and pulled until a clump came away in her hand.
Percival growled from the pain, but didn’t loosen his iron grip.
Tom rummaged frantically through the facts, figures and memories in his mind for a good idea that would free them. He suddenly remembered something Percival had said in Al’s hut.
“Aargh! A giant spider!” he shouted.
“What? Where?” shrieked Percival.
“On your head!” said Tom.
Percival dropped Tom and Isis and clasped his hands to his head. “Ugh! Get it off me! I hate spiders!” Percival screamed and then dropped to the floor to retrieve his dagger. He turned on his heel and ran out of the cave.
“That was close,” Tom said. “Percival’s the biggest wimp I’ve ever met!”
Al clambered over the rocky floor. “Some gentleman he is,” he scoffed. “Now let’s go back to King Arthur.”
But before they could leave the cave, the ground rumbled and the rocks beneath their feet started to crack.
“Here we go again,” muttered Isis.
Tom watched open-mouthed as the crack in the ground travelled up through the rocky walls of the cave. In a shower of stones, Anubis’s giant dog head appeared. The Egyptian god of the Underworld’s red eyes shone angrily in the gloom.
“Oh no! You’re joking. Not here!” Tom said.
Al fell to his knees and pressed the palms of his hands together. He stared at the pile of rocks, and with wide eyes began to pray.
“Dear Lord, I know I’m only a lowly pig-boy and not a fine nobleman, but please don’t punish me for taking the sword,” he whimpered. “I wasn’t stealing. Honest!” He flung the golden sword across the cave, as if it was hot to the touch.
Tom ran over to him and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Al,” he said. “It’s just a little earthquake. We will be fine.”
Al looked up at him with desperate eyes. “No! I’m being punished for being too proud! I’m not worthy of being a knight.” He started to pray loudly again. Then a small stone fell from the ceiling, bounced off his head and knocked him out cold.
Isis ran over to Al and shook him. “Are you OK? Wake up!”
“Leave the pig-boy alone! Pay attention to me!” Anubis boomed. A cloud of dust fell from the ceiling of the cave.
Tom glared up at the jackal-headed god. He was so annoyed at Anubis for ruining Al’s efforts, and then hurting him, that he stamped his foot on the ground. “Look!” he said. “We’ve found the amulet – we just need to get it off the sword. And we’ll do that as soon as we’re out of the cave.”
Anubis laughed in a creepy way that made the hair on Tom’s arms stand up. “You’ll never get out of here!” he shouted.
Tom felt his heart sink to the bottom of his boots.
“I’m going to teach you two a lesson you’ll never forget,” Anubis growled.
Suddenly, the whole cave began to shake violently. Rocks started to break free from the ceiling. They tumbled down the side of the cave.
“He’s starting a rockslide!” Tom yelped.
“I hope you two like caves.” Anubis’s voice boomed beneath the roar of the falling rocks. “You’ll be stuck here forever now. Don’t bother screaming – nobody will hear you. HA HA HA!”
Tom watched in despair as the roof of the cave collapsed in a deafening downpour of stone and dust, blocking the exit and burying the golden sword. He coughed and waved his hand in front of his face. It was completely dark.
“Oh no!” Tom groaned. “Looks like we’re trapped!”
“Al!” shouted Tom, running over to his unconscious friend. “Can you hear me?”
Isis bent down and started slapping Al’s cheeks. “Wake up!”
<
br /> Al woke with a start. “Ow,” he said, looking dazed and rubbing his head. “I had a terrible dream. I was being punished for stealing King Arthur’s golden sword.” He sat up and looked around the cave. “Oh no! It wasn’t a dream.”
“Don’t worry,” said Tom. “It was just a rockslide. But we’re going to get out ofhere.”
“First we need to find the sword,” said Isis.
As Tom’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he spied the sword’s carved handle sticking out from under a big boulder. But the blade was trapped beneath the rock. Tom pushed and pushed, but the stone wouldn’t budge.
“Here, let me give you a hand,” said Al, rising to his feet.
Together, Tom and Al pushed at the rock with their shoulders. Finally, the rock shifted slightly, and Isis was able to yank out the sword from under the rock.
“Good as new,” she said, blowing dust off the shining blade and handing it to Al.
Tom gave Isis a thumbs up.
“He keeps doing that,” Isis told Al. “Sticking his thumb in the air. I still don’t know what it means. Do you?”
“No,” Al said. “But I think it means something good.”
Tom barely heard them. He was too busy staring at the dazzling green amulet embedded in the sword’s blade.
“We’ve got it,” he said to Isis. “Now let’s find a way out of here.” All Tom and Isis needed to do was both touch the amulet and they would be whisked back to modern times. But he knew that there was no way Isis would leave without her pet cat. And besides, they’d promised to help Al. If they took the sword, he’d never get to become one of King Arthur’s knights.
Isis, Tom and Al pushed and shoved at the huge rocks blocking the cave’s entrance. Even when they all pushed together, they couldn’t move them more than a few inches. But at least a bit of sunlight filtered through the cracks.
Isis paused to rub her back. “This is worse than being stuck in that statue,” she muttered.
A faint meowing came in reply.
“That’s right, Cleo,” said Isis. “You know what I’m talking about… Wait a minute! Fluffpot?”
The meowing was definitely Cleo, but the noise sounded like it was coming from the back of the cave.
“There must be another way out!” Tom said excitedly.
Al nodded. “I’ve heard it told that these here caves have hidden tunnels.”
Crawling about on their knees, they started to look for a different way out of the cave.
Tom patted the damp walls with his hands and found a narrow gap. He heard a meow – louder this time. “Guys! I’ve found it!” he called.
“Here we come, Fluffpot!” cried Isis.
Tom, Isis and Al crept through the tunnel’s low, moss-covered walls. It was dank and cold, and their only guide through the dark was Cleo’s meowing.
“This reminds me of home,” Isis whispered to Tom. “The pyramids all had secret tunnels underneath them, to confuse tomb robbers.”
Al was lagging behind; his height made crawling through the tunnel more difficult.
“Come on, Al,” Tom urged. “It’s not far now.”
The tunnel gradually got wider, and the chink of light at the end got brighter and brighter. Finally, the three of them emerged, blinking, into the sunlight.
Cleo chased her tail and mewed loudly, as though she was celebrating.
“Well done, Fluffpot!” cried Isis, scooping up her pet. “You saved us!”
“Thanks goodness!” exclaimed Al. “Let’s go and get Acorn.”
They walked back round to the front of the cave and peeped out from behind a bush, but the dragon knights were nowhere to be seen.
“Come on, the coast’s clear,” Tom said, and they headed over to the boulder Acorn was hidden behind. The horse was happily munching grass, and whinnied a greeting.
“Good boy, Acorn,” called Al. “How do you fancy becoming a knight’s trusty steed?”
A pair of shiny, tassled boots stepped out from behind a tree.
“Not so fast, pig-boy,” said Percival, with a nasty smirk. He put one arm round Acorn’s wide neck and in the other held his dagger. “Hand over the sword, or Dobbin here is dinner for my father’s hounds.”
“Stop!” cried Al. “Don’t hurt Acorn!” He approached Percival slowly, holding out the sword.
“No!” shouted Isis. “Don’t let him have the sword. He doesn’t deserve to win.”
Al shook his head sadly. He handed the sword to Percival. “No, I couldn’t do that to Acorn. He’s been a true friend to me.”
Al climbed on to Acorn’s saddle and patted his shaggy mane. “I guess I wasn’t meant to be a knight, after all,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll just be getting back to my pig sty, then.” He buried his face in the horse’s mane.
Percival danced round the forest clearing, swinging the sword. “Ooh! I’m going to buy a shiny new suit of armour. And a plumed helmet!” he laughed in delight. “All rise for dashing Sir Percival!”
“Sir Percival?” spat Tom in disgust. “More like Sir Cheatsalot!”
“Where I come from, we don’t stand for cheating,” said Isis. She loaded a pine cone into her slingshot and pelted Percival. “Take that, you big bully!”
As Percival tried to dodge the steady storm of missiles being fired at him, Tom grabbed a large stick lying on the ground. He held it like a lance and charged.
“Hiiiiii-yaaaaaa!” Tom shouted, as he whacked Percival with the branch, taking him by surprise.
The golden sword flew out of Percival’s hand, landing in the middle of the clearing.
Isis put two fingers in her mouth and whistled sharply. “Hey, Al!” she shouted. “Go get the sword.”
Looking up, Al tapped his heels against Acorn’s sides. The horse’s tail swished, and he pawed at the ground with his hooves. Then he galloped into the clearing.
Percival ran to the sword, but the carthorse was too fast – thundering along like he was in a race.
“Hooray!” cried Al, reaching down from his saddle and snatching up the sword with ease. He waved it in the air. “We did it!”
Just then, the two dragon knights stepped out from behind the trees. They applauded.
“Well done,” said the first knight, raising the visor of his helmet. “Sir Galahad, it seems we have a deserving victor.” He smiled at the other knight.
“Now let’s take you back to the king,” said the second knight. “Sir Gawain and I will ride as your bodyguards, in case Sir Cheatsalot gets up to any more tricks.”
The knights mounted their horses, while Tom, Isis and Cleo climbed on to Acorn’s saddle behind Al.
They left a furious Percival kicking the dirt in a fit of rage.
As they rode back to the village, Tom’s mind raced. He was happy for his friend, but he knew there was no way they could get the amulet out of the sword with two Knights of the Round Table as guards.
They needed a new plan – and fast!
“Should we just grab the sword off Al and go?” Isis whispered in Tom’s ear.
“We can’t do that,” Tom whispered back. “He won’t get to be a knight if he doesn’t return the sword.”
“That’s true,” Isis said, sighing. “Oh well. We helped Al. Maybe when he’s a knight, he’ll be able to help us in return…”
Before they could come up with a better plan, they arrived back at the clearing, where excited villagers cheered their return.
“Are you sure I’m not dreaming?” said Al, shaking his head.
“It’s not a dream, Al – you really did it,” said Tom, giving his friend a pat on the back. “You’re going to be a knight!”
The two dragon knights stood next to the king, speaking softly in his ear. Every now and then, King Arthur nodded. Tom watched their lips moving. The cheering villagers drowned out most of what was said but he did pick out ‘calm, brave and kind’.
King Arthur gestured for Al to come over to him.
“Wish me luck,” Al gulped.
Al placed the golden sword in King Arthur’s hand. Tom and Isis exchanged worried looks. Once again, the amulet was out of their reach.
King Arthur sniffed at Al and frowned. “Normally I’d insist you have a good bath first.”
Al looked down at his muddy clothes. “Sorry, Your Royal Highness.”
“No matter!” King Arthur said brightly. “You are pure of soul, if not of body. Now, kneel before me, young Alymere.”
Al knelt. The crowd gasped as King Arthur stood and drew his sword. A scared-looking Al clutched at his neck and stumbled backwards.
“Please spare me, Your Kingliness. I’m right fond of my head.”
“Is he going to chop off his head?” Isis asked, clutching Cleo close to her. “Don’t look, Fluffpot,” she whispered, covering Cleo’s eyes with her hand.
“Of course not!” Tom said. “It’s fine. Watch!”
The smiling King Arthur ordered Al to kneel back down again. He lowered the flat of the gold sword on to Al’s right shoulder. Then he moved the sword over his head to his left shoulder and gently touched him there too.
“I dub you a Knight of the Realm of King Arthur!” the king said. “Arise, Sir Alymere!”
Tom chuckled when Al stood and faced the crowd. He had the biggest smile Tom had ever seen.
Al gave a bow. The villagers cheered and clapped.
“Go on, Al! We knew you had it in you!”
“That’s our knight, that is! Good old Al!” But Tom’s spirits were dampened when he heard a few mean comments from the richer villagers.
A man who looked like an older version of Percival shouted, “Ridiculous! How could the king make this stinking pig-boy a knight?”
Tom looked over at King Arthur and wondered if he had heard the nasty remarks. Sure enough, the king held his sword high. Everyone’s cheering dropped away to silence.
“Shame on you for not knowing better!” said King Arthur. “Call yourselves noblemen? Riches and fancy clothes do not make a good knight.
“A knight must have special qualities,” the king continued. “Bravery, above all! Young Al… Sir Alymere, here, showed how brave he is. He fought men much older than him, on horses far superior to his. He did not flinch. He did not run.”
