First published in 2012
Copyright © Text, Frances Watts 2012
Copyright © Illustrations, Gregory Rogers 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.
Allen & Unwin
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Australia
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ISBN 978 1 74237 728 5
Cover design by Seymour Designs
Cover illustration by Gregory Rogers
Text design by Seymour Designs
Set in 16/21 pt Adobe Jenson Pro by Seymour Designs
This book was printed in February 2012 at McPherson’s Printing Group, 76 Nelson St, Maryborough, Victoria 3465, Australia.
www.mcphersonsprinting.com.au
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For Dad, who brings history alive
F. W.
For Matt
G. R.
Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
PREVIEW CHAPTER: THE POISON PLOT
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR
CHAPTER 1
‘THOMASINA?’
Tommy ignored the voice calling her. ‘Go, Sir Benedict!’ she whispered.
‘Thomasina!’
Tommy knew it would be Mrs Moon, the cook, angry because she wasn’t standing at the long table peeling mountains of potatoes with the other kitchen girls. Instead, Tommy was standing at the kitchen doorway, watching the knights practising in the great courtyard.
Clank, clank. The courtyard rang with the sound of sword against armour.
Sir Benedict and another knight, Sir Hugh, were teaching the squires how to fight.
‘Now I thrust,’ Sir Benedict called. He lunged forward with his sword.
Sir Hugh then drove his sword at Sir Benedict.
‘Now I parry,’ Sir Benedict explained, as he blocked the blow with his own sword.
The squires, who were boys training to be knights, copied Sir Benedict’s moves with their wooden practice swords. So did Tommy, with the small paring knife she was meant to be using on the potatoes.
‘Hooray!’ Tommy cheered softly as Sir Benedict, Flamant Castle’s bravest knight, raised his sword to signal the end of practice. The sun glinted off the steel blade, and for a moment Tommy imagined that she was the one holding her sword aloft. That she was the castle’s most daring knight, its most skilled sword fighter.
‘Ouch!’ Tommy cried, as a hand grasped her ear and twisted it hard.
‘So there you are, Thomasina,’ Mrs Moon scolded. ‘I should have known you’d be watching the knights again. You’re meant to be peeling potatoes, not dreaming in doorways.’
‘Sorry, Mrs Moon,’ Tommy murmured. She turned to follow the cook back into the gloomy kitchen with its smoke-blackened stone walls.
But Mrs Moon blocked her way. ‘Not so fast, girl. I’ve got another job for you. Since you clearly prefer the courtyard to the kitchen, you can sweep it.’ She thrust a broom at Tommy.
Tommy gaped at the cook in astonishment. ‘Sweep the whole courtyard? But the courtyard is huge! It will take me forever!’
‘You’d best get started then,’ Mrs Moon said.
With a sigh, Tommy took the broom. As the knights led the squires away, she trudged across the flagstones to the far side of the courtyard. The castle walls and towers reared high above her, and she could just see the guards keeping lookout from the battlements.
‘I bet those guards don’t care whether the courtyard is dusty,’ Tommy grumbled to herself as she began to sweep. ‘And I bet the knights don’t either. They’re worried about more important things, like keeping Sir Walter’s castle and lands safe.’ Flamant Castle belonged to Sir Walter the Bald and his wife, Lady Beatrix the Bored.
Tommy was so busy grumbling that she didn’t notice what was going on nearby until she heard an indignant yowl.
Looking up, she saw a stocky boy with bright red hair. Tommy had seen him before, though she had never spoken to him. He was one of the boys who worked in the armoury, where all the weapons and armour were repaired and stored.
‘Don’t know what he’s got to yowl about,’ Tommy muttered. ‘He gets to spend all day with the swords and bows while I’m scrubbing pots in the scullery and chopping vegetables in the kitchen.’
Her thoughts were interrupted by another yowl, and then a low hiss.
Tommy pushed her mop of hair out of her eyes and looked at the boy again. This time she noticed that he was holding one of the wooden practice swords. He was jabbing the tip of the sword at a black and white cat he’d trapped in a corner, and it was the cat who was yowling.
‘Hey!’ Tommy called. ‘You leave that cat alone.’
The red-haired boy turned around. ‘Who’s going to make me?’ he sneered. ‘You?’ He jabbed the cat again.
This time the cat mewed pitifully and Tommy, who loved animals, ran towards the pair.
‘Stop!’ she cried. ‘You’re hurting it.’
The boy spun around and pointed the sword at Tommy. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
‘I’m – I’m Tommy. I work in the kitchen.’
‘A kitchen girl?’ said the boy. He laughed rudely. ‘Well I don’t take orders from kitchen girls – I’m Keeper of the Bows. I’m in charge of all the castle’s crossbows and longbows. What are you in charge of?’ His gaze fell on the broom Tommy was still holding in one hand. ‘Ha! I know – you’re Keeper of the Brooms!’ He snorted with laughter at his own joke, then said, ‘Go away, kitchen girl, I’m practising my sword fighting.’
He turned and lunged towards the cat. Tommy sprang forward and with her free hand grabbed the hem of his tunic.
With an angry shout the boy pushed Tommy away roughly. ‘Would you rather I practise on you?’ he said.
‘At least it would be a fair fight,’ Tommy snapped.
‘A fair fight?’ scoffed the boy. ‘How dare you presume to be my equal! Get lost, kitchen girl.’ And then he lifted his sword above his head and spun on his heel.
As the wooden blade tore through the air towards the cat cowering against the stones, Tommy leaped forward. Flinging herself between the boy and the cat, she halted the sword’s arc with the broomstick.
‘I warned you!’ he snarled, before swinging his arm back and driving his blade straight at Tommy.
CHAPTER 2
TOMMY’S HEART was pounding as she dodged to her left. The point of the wooden sword snagged on the thin fabric of her dress, tearing it.
The boy lunged at her again, and again Tommy dodged.
‘Don’t you know how to do anything but dodge?’ the boy jeered. ‘You might have a boy’s name, but you fight like a girl!’
Tommy’s fear turned to outrage. How dare he? First he was
rude to her because she worked in the kitchen, now he thought he was better than her just because he was a boy!
He swung the sword again, and suddenly a voice in Tommy’s head said, ‘Parry!’ She lifted her broom to block him.
Taken by surprise, the boy nearly lost his balance. He glared at Tommy and began to lash out wildly with the wooden sword, slashing the air this way and that.
Tommy, without even thinking, parried every blow. It was as if her arm was remembering all the times she had watched the knights with their swords, and knew exactly what to do.
By now the boy was panting and his face was as red as his hair. His movements were growing slow and clumsy, but Tommy, who was smaller and lighter, felt full of energy.
‘Come on,’ she said, holding the broomstick in both hands and waving it back and forth. ‘You can beat a kitchen girl with a broom, can’t you?’
The boy’s grip tightened on his sword.‘I’ll show you …’ he began, but before he could show her anything a shout rang across the courtyard.
‘Reynard! Get in here at once!’
The boy let his sword fall to his side. ‘Coming, Smith!’ he called over his shoulder. Looking at Tommy, he narrowed his eyes and said, ‘You’re in big trouble, kitchen girl.’ Then he turned and hurried towards the armoury.
Tommy sighed. The boy – Reynard – was right. What had she been thinking? She, a mere kitchen girl, fighting the Keeper of the Bows! ‘I am in big trouble,’ she said aloud.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ said a voice.
Tommy jumped. ‘Who said that?’ She looked around the courtyard. It was deserted. Perhaps a guard …? But when she looked up to the tops of the towers, shading her eyes against the sun, the guards all had their backs to her.
She turned to look at the cat, which was now calmly licking its paw. The cat paused in its licking to meet Tommy’s gaze, then returned to its bath.
Tommy shrugged. She must have imagined the voice. Just as she had imagined her broom was a wooden sword, like Reynard’s. She looked at the broom, which she still grasped in both hands. Reynard could practise with his wooden sword and one day become a squire. Tommy could practise with her broom as much as she liked, but she would still only be a kitchen girl. It was time she gave up her impossible dreams of becoming a knight, of fighting battles and winning tournaments. She should be dreaming proper kitchen-girl dreams, of growing up and becoming … a cook. Lowering the broom to the ground, she began to sweep.
Behind her, the cat finished its bath, stretched, and walked away.
The sun had sunk below the battlements when Tommy returned to the kitchen. Her arms ached from the constant motion of sweeping, and even when she closed her eyes from weariness she could still see the endless rows of f lagstones. All she wanted was a bowl of soup then to fall into bed, but Mrs Moon had other ideas. She wanted to scold Tommy some more.
‘Now I hope you’ve learned your lesson, Thomasina,’ the cook began. ‘And there’ll be no more of this nonsense about—’
‘Ah, excuse me.’ In the doorway stood a man so tall his dark hair nearly brushed the top of the doorframe.
‘Sir Benedict!’ Mrs Moon exclaimed. ‘Goodness me, what brings you to the kitchen, sir?’
‘I’m looking for one of your kitchen girls,’ said the knight. ‘Her name is Tommy, I believe. I hear she had a bit of bother with one of the boys from the armoury.’
Tommy looked at the floor in dismay. She never should have fought that horrible Reynard!
‘Thomasina!’ Mrs Moon’s voice was shrill. ‘What have you been up to, girl?’
Sir Benedict turned to Tommy. ‘I’ve been told you like to watch the knights practise.’
Tommy blushed but didn’t say anything. Had someone been watching her while she was watching the knights?
‘And I hear you know how to handle a sword,’ Sir Benedict continued. ‘Or a broom, rather.’ His blue eyes twinkled.
‘I love swords, sir,’ Tommy blurted out. ‘Much more than brooms,’ she added.
Mrs Moon said tartly, ‘That’s no use to me in the kitchen, girl. I’d rather you knew how to handle a paring knife.’
‘You are quite right,’ the knight said. ‘Tommy is no use in the kitchen.’
Oh no! Did Sir Benedict mean to throw her out of the castle? But she had nowhere else to go! No family, no home. Flamant Castle was her only home.
‘That is why,’ Sir Benedict continued, ‘I would like to offer Tommy a job in the armoury.’
Tommy’s mouth dropped open. ‘In the armoury, sir?’ she whispered.
Sir Benedict nodded. ‘That’s right. One of the boys, Edward, has become a squire, so I am looking for someone to take his place. Edward looked after all the bladed weapons: the swords and daggers. What do you say, Tommy? Will you be the castle’s new Keeper of the Blades?’
CHAPTER 3
THE KEEPER of the Blades … Tommy was swelling with pride as she walked across the courtyard to the armoury the next morning, ready to start her new job.
Even Mrs Moon had been impressed that Sir Benedict himself had come to the kitchen. After the knight had left, she filled a bowl with hearty bean soup for Tommy. And even better, she gave Tommy a tunic and a pair of leggings that her son had outgrown. ‘Much more suitable for a Keeper of the Blades than a torn dress,’ the cook had remarked.
When she entered the armoury, the first thing Tommy noticed was the noise. The blacksmith was bent over a sturdy wooden bench, hammering a large sheet of metal. The sound echoed off the stone walls, which glowed with the light from the fireplace set against the back wall.
As her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, Tommy looked around. She saw an assortment of shields and breastplates, helmets and swords, all waiting for repair.
When the blacksmith paused in his hammering, Tommy stepped forward.
‘Good morning, sir,’ she said. ‘I’m Tommy, the new Keeper of the Blades.’
The blacksmith straightened up and squinted at her from under a pair of big bushy eyebrows. ‘So you’re the new sword girl, eh? Well you can drop the “sir” and just call me Smith. Everyone does. Right then, I’ll show you what’s what.’ Smith beckoned for Tommy to follow him.
‘That’s the forge,’ he said, pointing to the fireplace. ‘If we need to reshape a piece of armour we put it in the fire there. The heat softens it so we can bend it easily. We only do repairs here, though. The weapons and armour are made by the smiths in town.’
Tommy felt a prickle of excitement. She knew that many of the castle’s needs were supplied by the merchants and tradesmen in the town just outside the castle’s walls. Most days, the drawbridge across the moat was busy with carts and horses going back and forth between the castle and the town. As a kitchen girl, Tommy had hardly ever visited the town. But maybe as the Keeper of the Blades she would!
There were doors on either side of the forge. Smith led Tommy to the door on the left. ‘This is the sword chamber,’ he said. ‘First time we’ve had a girl in the job that I can remember. But I suppose Sir Benedict knows what he’s about.’
Tommy stood in the doorway of the low-ceilinged room. There were no windows, but the light from a candle on the wall to the right of the door was reflected in the gleaming blades lining three walls of the long, narrow chamber. Tommy thought she had never seen a more beautiful sight
The long wall facing her was lined with swords standing in wooden racks, and in the shadows to her left she could just make out a smaller rack of swords. To her right, daggers hung by their hilts from iron pegs which had been hammered into the stone wall.
‘You’re to keep the blades polished and sharp, ready for the knights. You’ve got plenty of cloths here and a pot of oil for polishing, and there’s your file and whetstone for sharpening. If any repairs are needed, you bring ’em to me. Simple enough, eh, Sword Girl?’
‘Yes, Smith,’ Tommy breathed, without taking her eyes from the dazzling array of swords.
As soon as the blacksmith left the
room and she could hear the muffled clang of his hammer, Tommy pulled a sword from the long rack. It was so much heavier than a broom, but she liked the weight of it. She liked the way the steel blade sliced the air, liked the smooth feel of the wooden grip.
She had just replaced the sword in its rack when the hammering in the armoury stopped. ‘You’re late,’ Smith said gruffly.
‘Never mind that,’ said a familiar voice. ‘Has Sir Benedict been in? Did he say anything about making me Keeper of the Blades?’
It was Reynard, Tommy realised. But what did he mean about Sir Benedict making him Keeper of the Blades? She stepped closer to the door to listen.
‘Sir Benedict didn’t say nothin’ about you bein’ Keeper of the Blades, lad,’ the blacksmith replied. ‘The new sword girl is already here.’
‘Sword girl? What are you talking about, Smith?’
‘See for yourself,’ said Smith.
And before Tommy could move away from the doorway Reynard was there, his red hair coppery in the candlelight.
‘You!’ he cried. He turned to call over his shoulder, ‘She isn’t a Keeper of the Blades, Smith. She’s just a kitchen girl.’
‘Not according to Sir Benedict,’ said the blacksmith calmly. ‘He reckons she’s the sword girl, and if Sir Benedict reckons it, then it must be so.’
Reynard turned to glare at Tommy. He seemed to be vibrating with anger as he said in a menacing whisper, ‘We’ll see about that.’
CHAPTER 4
THE KEEPER of the Bows stormed off. Tommy guessed the bow chamber must be through the door to the right of the forge.
She was feeling a bit upset by Reynard’s final words. Was he really threatening her? Well, Tommy thought, she would just have to look after the swords and daggers so well that there would be no question of giving her job to someone else.
The Secret of the Swords Page 1