The crowd hushed. They could tell something was wrong.
“Hrrumph!” the Squire began. “Mistresses, maids, and fellows, my friends … um … after looking up the right and proper knighting ceremony,” he said, “I’m afraid Mrs. Squire and I have come upon a bit of a hitch.” He twiddled his whiskers apologetically.
The puzzled villagers pushed forward to hear.
“It seems … that is … the rules say … um … well… that only a king can make a knight!”
Everyone gasped—except Digory, who breathed a huge sigh of relief. Saved at the last minute! he thought.
“I’m sorry, Digory,” said Squire Paunch. “It wouldn’t be right and proper, me being only a squire, I’m afraid.”
The crowd grumbled and booed. They were very disappointed.
But Digory’s mother hadn’t spent a week making a suit of armor for nothing.
“Only a squire, my elbow!” she shouted, jumping up on a barrel. “That’s not a problem. Why, we’ll make you a king, and then you can get on with the knighting.”
With great cheering, the whole village agreed that solved the problem perfectly.
Digory’s heart sank again.
“I haven’t got much work in the smithy at the moment,” continued Betsy, “so I can make a crown by Tuesday. But in the meantime, Arthur’s cap will crown you very nicely.”
So, with no further delay, the Squire was crowned King Paunch of Batty-by-Noodle, and his first royal duty was to perform the knighthood ceremony.
Digory dismounted and knelt before the King, who struck him gently with a sword on both shoulders.
“Arise, Sir Digory the Dragon Slayer,” he said solemnly in his royal cap, and everyone cheered and agreed he made a very useful king.
The delighted Batty villagers had never had so much to celebrate at once. Minstrels played, maidens danced, and everyone enjoyed a great feast.
But with the ceremony done, and all the gobbling and gamboling going on, no one noticed Sir Digory, with his lute slung across his back, plod silently away on Barley.
Only one person chased down the lane after Digory, waving a beer mug in one hand and a bellows in the other.
“Good luck, son!” shouted Betsy happily. “Go out and have adventures! Fight dragons! Marry a princess! And don’t forget to oil your joints once a week!”
Chapter Two
Keeping Out of Trouble
Digory traveled far and wide across the countryside. Although he was used to spending days alone, Digory soon missed his family. Before long, he even missed the village boys.
“Nobody told me that being a knight would be so lonely,” he sighed.
Barley whinnied and shook her ragged mane as if she understood.
“We can’t go home, Barley, until I’ve done some good deeds,” explained Digory sadly. “Maybe we’ll find a friend on our adventures …”
Meanwhile, there was nothing else to do but search for good deeds and try to avoid dragons, damsels in distress, and princesses looking for a husband.
This last task, however, was particularly difficult. Before Digory had traveled far, princesses began to appear all over the place. They jumped out from behind trees and combed their hair at him, or sighed in towers pretending to be damsels in distress. Eventually, Digory realized that princesses hung around waiting for knights to come along!
Whenever he met a princess, Digory didn’t know what to say. What do girls talk about? he asked himself as he climbed off Barley and bowed with a creak.
He thought of his sister, Ethelburg. She could spend hours lovingly describing twenty types of mud and how to fling them, so he would try that. But he never met one princess who was the slightest bit interested in mud, or squirrels, or tree houses, or dams. Each princess only wished to be admired and told how she was the most wonderful, beautiful, ravishing, gorgeous creature in all the land.
When the princesses heard just mud talk and realized they were not going to be admired at all, they would stamp their tiny feet and go off in a huff.
Now, Digory had seen Ethelburg in a mudflinging fury after losing a match with the Mucky Maidens, but nothing is as terrifying as a huffy princess.
Before long, poor Digory was much more afraid of meeting a princess than of meeting a dragon!
Luckily, Digory the Dragon Slayer had never met a dragon. Whenever he saw a wisp of smoke curling above the treetops, he would turn around and ride in the opposite direction, just in case it was the sign of a dragon’s fiery breath. No point in taking any chances, he’d say to himself. I don’t want to give Barley a fright!
Then One Morning …
One morning, as Digory plodded along a leafy lane, squeaking gently and humming to himself, he heard a sudden rumble of thunder. Digory looked at the sky, but there wasn’t a rain cloud in sight. Then the ground shook, and flames shot high above the trees ahead.
“A dragon!” cried Digory in alarm. He jumped off Barley and turned her around. Then, clambering on again, he gave the old horse a giddyap kick.
“I think I’ll ride north this morning,” he said out loud in case anyone was watching. (After all, knights are supposed to ride toward dragons, not in the opposite direction.)
And with a snort Barley trotted off.
The Kingdom of King Widget
To the north was a castle on a hill with white turret towers and an orchard below. There was no sign of a dragon, and no princesses to be seen anywhere. That looks pretty safe, thought Digory, who by now was feeling hungry.
So he trotted up the hill to the castle, with his dragon’s tooth glinting in the sun, trying to look bold and brave and knightly.
As Digory rode across the moat and through the castle gate, he noticed everything had a sign with its name: “Drawbridge,” “Wall,” “Courtyard.” Even the people had notes pinned to their backs: “Jester,” “Watchman,” and “Dungeon Keeper.”
Digory was greeted by an old man with a quill pen behind his ear, wearing a label saying “Labeler.”
“Please tell me, why does everything have a sign?” asked Digory, after giving his full title.
The Labeler groaned as he hunted in his cart for a very long piece of paper.
“It’s His Majesty,” he explained, sharpening the quill pen. “King Widget has a very bad memory for the names of things. He can remember dates—he never forgets anyone’s birthday—but he gets a bit foggy when it comes to names.
“Once he took all morning to remember that his blue cozy things were called “slippers,” and he couldn’t get out of bed until the Queen had guessed what he wanted. It made things very slow, you see. So, now everything is labeled—including you!”
And he produced a long sign that read “Sir Digory the Dragon Slayer,” and an old one that just said “Horse” for Barley.
Digory Meets King Widget
Once he was labeled, Digory could be presented to the King. This happened whenever a knight arrived at a castle. Digory wished he could be presented to the baker or the muffin man first, but no, knightly business always had to come before food.
King Widget was in the throne room playing marbles.
Digory introduced himself.
“Do you have any good deeds that need doing, Sire?” he asked politely.
“Well, it’s very kind of you to offer, my fellow,” said the King with a smile. “You arrived just at the right moment. As a matter of fact the … er … the … um …” He scratched his head and look puzzled. “Oh, you know, the, the … what’s it called?”
Digory couldn’t begin to guess what the King was trying to remember.
“I’m afraid I don’t know, Your Majesty,” he said patiently (thinking to himself in dismay that it might be some time before he saw a muffin or a leg of chicken).
“Oh, botherations,” said the King, getting into a terrible fluster.
Then, to Digory’s astonishment, the King began to walk slowly up and down the throne room, curtsying to nobody at all and holding out his hand to be kiss
ed.
“Now you know, don’t you?” called out the King hopefully. “It’s the grand-giggly-wimple …”
“Ah, you mean the Queen, Your Majesty?” suggested Digory.
“Yes, yes, thank you,” said the King. “Queen, queen, I must remember that word,” he muttered to himself. “Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, the Queen and I made a list this morning of little jobs to be done around the castle.” And he pulled a long scroll of parchment from a pocket inside his cloak.
Digory looked at it in dismay.
“I was going to make a start on these this afternoon,” explained the King. “But if you have nothing better to do, I’d be terribly grateful.”
Digory thanked the King. At the top of the list was written:
1. Rescue the Cook’s cat.
And so he went off to find the kitchen.
Digory didn’t take long to find the castle kitchen, for a delicious smell of freshly baked bread led him there by nose. In the middle of baking was the Cook, up to her apron strings in puddings and piecrust. Digory stood in the doorway, gazing at the trays of golden loaves. How he wished to say, “Please may I have …” But he sadly swallowed hard.
“Is there a cat to be rescued?” he asked.
“Ooh, my little Pumpkin!” exclaimed the Cook. She waved her arms excitedly, dusting everyone with a shower of flour. “Follow me, Sir Knight.”
The Cook took Digory out into the kitchen garden, past fruit bushes and beehives to the orchard, where a tiny, frightened kitten was wedged in the crook of an apple tree.
“There’s my little Pumpkin,” sobbed the Cook. “She’s been up there since Wednesday. She won’t even come down for a saucer of milk.”
Digory, of course, could climb a tree as nimbly as a squirrel. Up he went and saw at once what the problem was.
“Her collar is snagged on a branch,” he called down softly. Digory reached up and released Pumpkin. To his delight, she tumbled into his arms and licked his face gratefully.
The Cook was so pleased to have her kitten safe once more, she took Digory back to the kitchen, laid a cloth on the table, and served him a huge dish of mutton stew and dumplings.
Once Digory had finished his third helping, the rest of King Widget’s list didn’t look so bad.
So Digory set about doing good deeds around the castle. First he polished the King’s armor, then he chopped down an old tree in the orchard that was about to fall on some damsons. When that was done, he unblocked the well, fishing out two rusty pails, a pair of breeches, a frying pan, and a chamber pot.
All afternoon Digory mended this and fixed that. By suppertime he was hungry and tired but very pleased with his work. The last deed on the King’s list was to put a new handle on the muffin man’s bell, for which Digory was given a basket of muffins and currant buns to take on his way. But Digory could not leave without performing two more knightly duties. He found King Widget licking his fingers in the kitchen garden beneath a weather-beaten sign saying “Figs.”
Just One Last Thing …
“Well done, Sir Knight,” said the King gratefully when he heard that all the good deeds had been done. “Now what may I do for you in return?”
“I don’t need anything, Sire, except some hay for my horse,” replied Digory. “But first I must ask, do you have any damsels in distress here that need to be saved?” Digory crossed his fingers behind his back, hoping all the damsels in the land were happily having supper at that moment.
But the King nodded. “Oh, yes, we’ve got hundreds of them here.”
Digory couldn’t believe his ears.
“They were all going to make jam, you see,” the King continued. “But wait a minute …” He stopped and looked at Digory suspiciously. “Your memory must be as bad as mine. The damsons were in distress until you chopped that tree down in the orchard. Don’t you see, you’ve already saved them, my friend!” And he offered Digory a fig.
Digory breathed a sigh of relief. He had been horrified at the idea of saving a hundred damsels in distress with jam! He decided not to mention damsels again, but there was still the little matter of marrying a princess.
Digory had seen no sign at all of a princess in the castle of King Widget. No combs in the well, no lost silk slippers in the orchard. So he was certain he would soon be safely on his way with the basket of muffins.
“I don’t suppose you have any daughters, Your Majesty?” he said quietly from behind his fig, hoping the King wouldn’t even hear.
“Oh dear, I thought you might ask that,” sighed the King. “Yes, I have just one daughter. Her name is Enid.”
Digory’s heart sank into his tin boots and his tummy rumbled loudly in protest.
The King unpeeled another fig thoughtfully and beckoned Digory close.
“I know you knights are always looking for a princess to marry, but I’m afraid Enid is not the usual sort of princess,” he explained in a low voice. “To be honest, she’s quiet and plain and unusual, Sir Digory,” he said. “She won’t sit in a tower all day combing her long, golden, um …”
“Hair?” suggested Digory.
“Ah, yes, hair!” the King smiled gratefully. “She won’t comb her long, golden hair all day like the other girls. The truth is, she doesn’t even have long, golden hair. It’s sort of mud brown and sticks up like … er …”
“Crested waves?” Digory offered. “Angels’ curls?”
The King made a snouty sort of face and wiggled his fingers about on top of his head.
“Sticks up, Diggers, sticks up like a … a hedgehog, you see! And, I must tell you, she won’t stay in a tower either. She prefers to climb those twiggy things with leaves and play the krummhorn all day. In fact, she would much rather talk to badgers and squirrels than any bold, brave knight.”
The King blushed uncomfortably. “Nevertheless, we love her, you hear. For all we know, she may just be ahead of fashion with her hairstyle.” He set his crown straight. “It was truly knightly of you to ask, Sir Digory. I know that’s what you chaps are supposed to do. But I don’t expect she’s the sort of princess you’re looking for.”
The King took Digory’s arm and began to walk him back through the garden into the yard where Barley was tethered.
“Maybe I could do you a good deal on a … you know, clip-clop-feedbag-whatsit,” he said hopefully.
“That sounds wonderful to me,” said Digory.
“Good, good,” the King beamed. “What do you like? A great galumphing galloper or a pretty piebald prancer?”
“No, no!” Digory jumped up and down. “The princess sounds wonderful to me!”
King Widget was so astonished to hear this that he stepped backward and fell into the horse trough!
Princess Enid
As the stable boys pulled dripping King Widget onto his feet, Digory explained.
“All the other princesses are so beautiful and grand, Your Highness, I never know what to say to them. You see, I’m a blacksmith’s son. I’ve never really wanted to meet a princess at all.”
“Quite sensible, my boy,” nodded the King, wringing out his beard. “They’re a huffy bunch these days.”
“But, Your Majesty, I like to climb twiggy things with leaves and play the lute, and I would much rather talk to badgers and squirrels, too!” declared Digory boldly.
“You would?” said King Widget in amazement. “You like doing the very same things?” The King looked thoughtful, and Digory suddenly felt very shy.
“Well, you’ve worked hard doing good deeds for me all day,” the King smiled kindly at Digory. “Tomorrow we’re having um … a … a grass-in-the-sandwiches, you know … ?”
“A picnic!” cried Digory.
“Yes, exactly, a picnic. Come and meet Enid then.”
And so it was arranged.
That night, Digory composed a song for Enid, with a special krummhorn chorus for her to play. At last, here was someone who liked the same things he did. For the first time, Digory realized that he’d never had a f
riend. He was so excited he couldn’t sleep. So he sat in the moonlit courtyard on a sack of straw and played his lute to Barley all night long. Barley slept happily through every note, dreaming of soft ripe pears.
The Picnic
The next day Barley’s dream came true. The picnic was held in the orchard under trees marked “Pear.”
Digory arrived in his freshly oiled armor. He found the King playing leapfrog with a lady labeled “Queen,” but there was no princess anywhere.
Digory felt disappointed and shy again. She probably heard my singing last night and is hiding somewhere with a basket on her head, he thought sadly.
He remembered how the village boys used to tease him about his red hair and lanky legs and long sausage nose. How silly to think Enid would want to meet me, he told himself.
Then suddenly, a pear dropped on his head, and another. Digory looked up. There, sitting in the tree above, was a girl with brown hair sticking up like a hedgehog, balancing a krummhorn on her knee.
Digory didn’t need to read her label to know that this was Princess Enid!
“Come on up, Sir Digory,” said Enid, “there’s room for two.”
Well, I won’t bother to tell you everything that happened next. Enid had heard how Digory saved the Cook’s cat, and how he’d done so many good deeds for her father. Before long they were lost in lute and krummhorn talk, with plenty of laughing and turnip turnovers. Enid knew all about music and animals and trees and had many of the very same thoughts that Digory had himself.
“I’ve never met anyone like you, Digory.” Enid smiled.
Digory thought of King Paunch’s knighting ceremony and Barley the carthorse and Betsy’s homemade armor.
“I expect I’m not like the usual knights that come here,” he said.
Digory the Dragon Slayer Page 2