The Secret of the Swords

by Frances Watts

  She would begin by getting to know the swords, starting with the long rack, she decided. She knew from watching the knights that there were different kinds of swords. There were short, sharp-pointed thrusting swords. There were two-handed swords with long hilts, so heavy she could hardly lift them. There were double-edged swords with broad blades. She wiped each one with a soft cloth and clove-scented oil.

  Halfway along the wall, she pulled a sword from the rack that made her draw in her breath in awe. Studded with rubies at the hilt, its blade was decorated with exquisite engravings of flamingos, matching the birds on the flags that fluttered from the towers of Flamant Castle. It was so precious she didn’t dare wave it about like she had with some of the other swords. After admiring it for a few minutes, she polished it with special care, then put it back in the rack and continued her inspection.

  When she had finished with the main rack, she turned to the small collection of swords along the short wall. She was puzzled to find that the swords here were nowhere near as well cared for as the others. The blades were dull and tarnished, and the wooden grips were as worn as the handle on the kitchen broom.

  The thought of the old broom reminded her of Reynard’s words from the day before. ‘Keeper of the Brooms,’ he had called her. She smiled to think how her life had changed in only one day. From Keeper of the Brooms to Keeper of the Blades! ‘But how did Sir Benedict know that I could handle swords?’ she wondered aloud. ‘How did he find out about me and the broom?’

  ‘That’s easy,’ said a voice behind her. ‘I told him.’

  Tommy gasped and spun around. At first she didn’t see anyone, but then a movement below made her drop her gaze. At her feet was the black and white cat.

  ‘You – you told him?’ she repeated. Surely the cat hadn’t spoken – but there was no one else in the room.

  ‘I did,’ said the cat. ‘I told Sir Benedict how you fought off that oaf Reynard with only a broom. I also told him how much you love to watch the knights practising in the courtyard.’

  ‘You know about that?’ Tommy asked.

  ‘I know most things that go on in Flamant Castle,’ the cat told her. ‘So how do you like your new job so far?’

  ‘I love it!’ said Tommy. ‘There are so many beautiful swords in here. Like that one with the rubies.’ She pointed to the main rack.

  ‘That’s Sir Walter the Bald’s sword,’ the cat said. ‘He’s very proud of it, so mind you keep it sharp and well polished. He likes to come and check on it.’

  ‘Sir Walter comes in here?’ said Tommy. She thought she might die of nerves if he did. Lady Beatrix had visited the kitchen now and then to speak to Mrs Moon. But no one from the kitchen had ever met Sir Walter.

  ‘Why are the swords over there so dusty?’ Tommy asked, pointing to the smaller rack.

  ‘Ah, you mean the Old Wrecks,’ said the cat.

  ‘I don’t think they’re wrecks at all,’ Tommy protested. ‘They just need to be looked after properly and they’ll be as fine as all the other swords.’

  ‘You’re absolutely right,’ said the cat. She sounded pleased. ‘I think you’ll do well here.’

  ‘Thank you, um, cat,’ said Tommy. ‘And thank you for telling Sir Benedict about me.’

  ‘Lil,’ said the cat. ‘My name is Lil. And you’re welcome, Tommy.’ Then, with her tail in the air, Lil strolled out of the chamber as silently as she had entered.

  ‘A talking cat,’ Tommy said to herself. ‘Did that really happen or did I imagine it?’

  She shrugged, picked up a cloth and approached the Old Wrecks. ‘I don’t know why you’ve just been abandoned,’ she murmured as she pulled a sabre from the rack and began to polish it.

  ‘You see?’ said the sabre. ‘I told you a sword girl was a fine idea.’

  CHAPTER 5

  TOMMY SCREAMED and dropped the sabre to the floor. There was a clatter of steel on stone, and Smith appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Is there a problem, Sword Girl?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I’m – I’m fine, thank you, Smith,’ Tommy said.

  The blacksmith looked from Tommy to the sabre on the floor. ‘What’s that you’re doing? Polishing the Old Wrecks? You needn’t bother with that. The knights never use that lot. They only like new swords, or swords that have been carried into battle. None of those ever ’as been.’ He stumped away.

  When she was sure he was out of earshot, Tommy picked up the sabre with trembling hands. First a talking cat, and now the swords were talking. Could her mind be playing tricks on her? Perhaps she had sunstroke from the hours she’d spent sweeping the courtyard the day before. Yes, that must be it. But just to be sure she took a deep breath and said, ‘I’m sorry. Did you … did you say something?’

  ‘I was just telling Bevan Brumm over there that I was right,’ said the sabre. It was a woman’s voice. ‘He said a sword girl was a silly idea, but I told him he didn’t know what he was talking about. So will you admit I was right now, Bevan Brumm?’

  ‘It is possible you were not wrong,’ came a deep voice from the rack of Old Wrecks.

  ‘Well I suppose that’s as good as I’ll get from you,’ the sabre said.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Tommy, whose head was still whirling. ‘This is real, isn’t it? You’re … you’re talking.’

  ‘Yes, thank you for letting us know,’ said the voice of Bevan Brumm. He sounded sarcastic, Tommy thought. ‘She’s a bit slow, your sword girl, Nursie.’

  Tommy opened her mouth to argue, but a third voice beat her to it.

  ‘She’s not slow, Bevan.’ It was a boy’s voice. ‘She’s probably just surprised. I’ll bet when you were alive, you would have been surprised if a sword started talking.’

  ‘It is possible you are not wrong,’ said Bevan stiffly.

  ‘There he goes again,’ said Nursie.

  ‘Sword Girl,’ said the boy, ‘my name is Jasper Swann.’

  Tommy looked at the sword with the boy’s voice. It was slender, slightly curved with a pointed blade. ‘Are you a ghost, Jasper?’ Tommy asked in a quavering voice.

  ‘I suppose I am,’ said Jasper. ‘But I can’t walk through walls or anything like that. I was a squire, but I fell ill before I had the chance to fight in a single battle. Since then, my spirit has inhabited my sword, which I was holding when I died.’

  ‘I was a merchant,’ a long-handled dagger said. This was Bevan Brumm. ‘I was travelling through a forest when I was set upon by bandits. I pulled my dagger from my cloak, but I was too late.’

  ‘I was a nursemaid,’ said Nursie. ‘I was looking after the children when the castle was attacked. I used this sword to fight off the enemy who tried to snatch my little darlings. I saved the children, but I wasn’t so lucky myself.’

  Tommy waved her hand at the rest of the Old Wrecks in the rack. ‘What about the others? Are they … like you?’

  ‘The rest of them sleep most of the time,’ said Bevan Brumm disapprovingly. ‘But yes, we all died with our weapons in our hands.’

  ‘Oh! That’s so sad,’ Tommy burst out.

  Nursie laughed. ‘There, there, dear. It all happened a long time ago. We’re long past feeling sorry for ourselves.’

  Still, Tommy wished there was something she could do. ‘Would you like me to polish you?’ she asked shyly.

  ‘That would be lovely,’ said Nursie.

  So Tommy polished Nursie till her blade shone, then did the same for Bevan Brumm. Finally, she lifted Jasper Swann from the rack. He was surprisingly light compared to the other swords she had lifted that day, and the narrow grip felt just right in her hand.

  ‘Go on,’ Jasper urged. ‘Try me out.’

  Hesitantly at first, then with more confidence, Tommy wielded the sword, slashing and slicing the air.

  ‘Good,’ said Jasper. ‘But when you’re fighting, don’t face your enemy. You should stand side on. That way less of your body is exposed to his sword.’

  ‘I see,’ said Tommy. She adjusted her position
and did another few thrusts and parries.

  Jasper said, ‘That’s it!’

  ‘Well done,’ Bevan Brumm agreed.

  ‘You stick with us, dearie,’ Nursie told her, ‘and we’ll help you become the castle’s finest sword fighter. After all our years in here, there’s not much we can’t tell you about swords. Who knows? Maybe you’ll become the first-ever girl squire!’

  The first-ever girl squire! Nursie’s words were still ringing in her ears as Tommy sprang from her bed early the next morning. Sir Benedict and Mrs Moon had decided that Tommy should continue to share sleeping quarters and take her meals with the kitchen girls rather than sleep in the barracks as the last Keeper of the Blades had done.

  Tommy quickly ate a piece of bread, then crossed the courtyard to the armoury, eager to get to work. Today she was planning to check the blade of every sword for sharpness.

  But the minute Tommy stepped into the sword chamber her plans were forgotten, as the Old Wrecks started clamouring.

  ‘Sword Girl! Sword Girl! Thank goodness you’ve come. Sir Walter was here at dawn!’

  Tommy’s throat went dry. ‘Was he happy with his sword?’ she asked in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

  ‘He was not,’ boomed Bevan Brumm.

  Tommy clapped a hand over her mouth. What had she done wrong?

  ‘He wasn’t unhappy with your work, dearie,’ Nursie explained.

  Tommy shook her head in confusion. ‘Then what …?’ she began.

  ‘His sword wasn’t here,’ said Jasper.

  ‘Wasn’t here?’ Tommy thought she must have misheard. ‘Where was it?’

  ‘It’s gone,’ Bevan Brumm announced. ‘Disappeared. Vanished. Lost without a trace.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Tommy,’ said Jasper. ‘Sir Walter’s sword has been stolen.’

  CHAPTER 6

  ‘STOLEN?’ Tommy gasped. ‘But that’s impossible! Who would steal Sir Walter’s sword?’

  ‘We don’t know, dearie,’ said Nursie. ‘It must have happened in the middle of the night when we were asleep.’

  Tommy hardly dared ask her next question. ‘What did Sir Walter say when he couldn’t find his sword? Did he … did he say anything about me?’

  ‘He demanded to know where the Keeper of the Blades was, but Nursie managed to put him off,’ said Bevan with a chuckle.

  ‘He’ll be back though,’ said Nursie. ‘You’d better find that sword in a jiffy or not even Sir Benedict will be able to save your job.’

  ‘But I don’t even know where to start,’ said Tommy desperately.

  ‘Why don’t you ask Lil?’ said Jasper. ‘She knows everything that goes on around the castle.’

  ‘Yes!’ said Tommy. ‘That’s a great idea.’ She raced through the armoury and out into the courtyard.

  The castle was just starting to stir, and the courtyard was coming to life. Chambermaids were gossiping as they aired their mistresses’ sheets, a groom was leading a messenger’s horse to the stables and masons were busy repairing a section of stone wall. But where was Lil?

  Tommy scanned the courtyard anxiously, at last spotting the black and white cat stretched out in a puddle of sunshine, observing the goings-on around her.

  Tommy ran over. ‘Lil,’ she said, ‘you have to help me. Please.’

  The cat turned her watchful green eyes on the sword girl. ‘What’s wrong, Tommy?’

  ‘Someone has stolen Sir Walter’s sword,’ Tommy told her. ‘And if I don’t find it quickly, I’ll be sent back to the kitchen!’ She gulped. Maybe she’d even be forced to leave Flamant Castle!

  Lil sprang to her feet. ‘We’ll see about that.’

  We’ll see about that … The words sent a shiver down Tommy’s spine. They were the same words Reynard had used when he found out that Tommy was the new sword girl.

  ‘Lil,’ said Tommy, ‘I think Reynard, the Keeper of the Bows, might have taken it. He wanted the job of Keeper of the Blades for himself.’

  ‘That oaf?’ said the cat scornfully. ‘Not if I have anything to do with it.’ She lifted a paw to stroke her whiskers thoughtfully. ‘What we need is a bird’s-eye view,’ she said.

  ‘Do you mean we should climb one of the towers?’ said Tommy. ‘It might be a bit hard to see the sword from up there.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Lil. ‘We’ll ask the bird’s-eye view to come to us.’ She tilted her head towards the sky. ‘Pigeon,’ she called. ‘Are you there?’

  A few moments later, there was a flutter of feathers as a plump grey pigeon landed on a flagstone beside them.

  ‘Not so loud,’ the pigeon muttered. ‘I’m hiding.’

  ‘Is the physician after you again?’ Lil asked as Tommy stared at the talking bird. Did every creature at the castle talk? Why had she never known this before?

  The pigeon sighed. ‘Yes, he wants my droppings for one of his potions.’ The bird stuck his chest out. ‘I am a carrier pigeon,’ he declared. ‘I carry important messages. It is insulting to be hounded for my droppings.’

  ‘Quite,’ said Lil, and it seemed to Tommy that the cat was trying not to smile. ‘Pigeon, I know you’re a bit of a night owl,’ she continued, ‘and you like to keep an eagle – I mean a pigeon eye on the castle. I was wondering if you saw anything unusual around the armoury last night. Perhaps someone sneaking out with a sword?’

  ‘Why, I did see someone with a sword last night,’ said the pigeon. ‘It was that nasty boy who tried to shoot me down with a slingshot last week.’

  Tommy and Lil exchanged glances. ‘That sounds like Reynard,’ Tommy said.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said the pigeon. ‘That’s him. Reynard. He ran out of the armoury, and I remember being glad that he was holding a sword and not a slingshot. There’s no way he could reach me with a sword, I thought. He climbed to the top of the south tower and, when the guard wasn’t looking, he threw the sword over the battlements and into the moat.’

  Tommy buried her face in her hands. ‘Not the moat,’ she moaned. ‘It’s patrolled by a crocodile. We’ll never get the sword back.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Lil, but she was interrupted by a squawk as the pigeon abruptly took off in a flurry of feathers. The next minute, Tommy was almost knocked over when someone barged into her from behind.

  ‘What—?’ she started. She turned to see a short round man in a brown robe. His gaze was fixed on the sky.

  ‘It’s the physician,’ Lil said in a low voice.

  ‘Where is that pigeon?’ the physician was saying to himself. ‘Sir Walter the Bald is suffering and is in need of a cure.’

  ‘What’s wrong with Sir Walter?’ asked Tommy. The Old Wrecks hadn’t mentioned that he was ill.

  ‘Mental confusion,’ said the physician.

  ‘Poor Sir Walter. He was in the sword chamber very early this morning, checking on his favourite sword, when he thought he heard his old nurse’s voice telling him to hurry back to bed, dearie, and don’t make a fuss. Of course, it was all in his head. Sir Walter’s nurse died some fifty years ago.’

  ‘Nursie!’ Tommy said, realising one of Nursie’s ‘little darlings’ must have been Sir Walter the Bald.

  The physician gave her a puzzled look. ‘Are you suffering from mental confusion too, girl?’

  ‘No,’ Tommy assured him.

  ‘Anyway,’ the physician continued, ‘the most effective cure for mental confusion is to mix pigeon droppings with honey, and apply the mixture to the back of the patient’s neck. Now where is that pigeon?’ The physician lifted his gaze to the sky once more, and wandered off across the courtyard.

  ‘Quick,’ said Lil. ‘This way.’

  Tommy followed Lil under the low arch leading out of the courtyard and through the castle gate. Once outside the walls, they ran to the edge of the moat.

  Looking down into the murky water, Tommy knew it was hopeless. There was no way they’d be able to spot the sword in the sluggish, weed-choked water of the moat encircling the castle. And even if they did spot
it, there was still the matter of the—

  ‘Aaaaah!’ Tommy screamed in terror as a hideous beast emerged from the water, its enormous jaws open wide to reveal two jagged rows of sharp teeth. ‘Crocodile!’

  CHAPTER 7

  ‘REALLY, CROC,’ said Lil. ‘How many times do I have to tell you to cover your mouth when you yawn?’

  ‘Sorry,’ said the crocodile. He swam closer to the edge of the moat, where Tommy was kneeling, frozen to the spot. After a sly glance at Lil, he opened his mouth again. ‘Muuuuuurp.’

  ‘And when you burp,’ the cat added sternly. ‘You’ll make a bad impression on our new sword girl.’

  ‘She started it.’ The giant reptile sounded sulky. ‘She called me a crocodile.’

  Tommy didn’t understand. ‘But aren’t you a crocodile?’

  ‘I’m a crocodiddle,’ he sniffed. ‘There’s a difference, you know.’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ Tommy said. ‘What’s a crocodiddle?’

  ‘Me,’ said the crocodiddle, as if that settled it. ‘What do you want, anyway?’

  Lil explained about the sword and the crocodiddle’s beady yellow eyes lit up.

  ‘So that’s whose it is! I was just doing a couple of laps in the middle of the night – backstroke, butterfly, that kind of thing – when a sword splashed into the water right behind me. It almost sliced off my tail!’

  ‘Do you think you could find it, Mr Crocodiddle?’ Tommy asked. ‘Please?’

  The crocodiddle tilted his head to one side. ‘Did you hear that?’ he asked Lil in a loud whisper. ‘She called me “mister”.’ He turned back to Tommy. ‘I’ll see if I can, young Sword Girl.’ He gave her a wide, toothy grin and swam off.

  Several minutes passed, then several minutes more, but the crocodiddle didn’t return. Tommy’s throat felt tight. That was it then. The sword was lost forever at the bottom of the moat. She would be sent back to the kitchen in disgrace. Or worse, she’d be—