Suddenly the surface of the water began to shiver. Two yellow eyes appeared, then an ugly snout. And there, clasped delicately between the crocodiddle’s pointy teeth, was Sir Walter’s sword. It was draped with weeds but seemed otherwise unharmed.
‘Oh, thank you,’ Tommy cried as she took the sword from the crocodiddle’s jaws. ‘Thank you!’
‘Now run,’ Lil urged. ‘Get the sword cleaned up and back in the rack before Sir Walter recovers from his mental confusion.’
Tommy didn’t need to be told twice. She sprinted back to the castle gate, squeezed past a cart full of hay that was almost blocking the entrance to the castle, then pelted across the courtyard to the armoury.
Inside, all was quiet.
Smith looked up from the helmet he was repairing. ‘Everything all right, Sword Girl?’
‘Yes, thank you, Smith,’ Tommy replied. ‘It is now.’
With Sir Walter’s dripping sword in her hand, Tommy stalked past the blacksmith to the door of the bow chamber. She could see Reynard sharpening a steel-tipped arrow.
‘What do you want?’ he said when he spotted Tommy in the doorway. Then he saw Sir Walter’s sword in her hand and turned pale. ‘How did …? Where did you …?’ he stammered.
‘You know where I found it,’ said Tommy coldly. ‘In the moat, where you threw it.’
‘You can’t prove it was me,’ Reynard argued, but he sounded scared.
‘I can prove it,’ said Tommy. ‘I have a witness who saw you do it. And if you touch any of my swords again, I’ll tell Sir Benedict what you did to Sir Walter’s sword. Then we’ll see who’s Keeper of the Brooms.’
Back in the sword chamber the Old Wrecks were overjoyed to see Tommy with Sir Walter’s sword. As she wiped the weeds from the engraved blade, she told them how the sword had come to be at the bottom of the moat. Soon the blade shone a brilliant silver once more.
‘Look how nicely she’s cleaned it,’ Nursie remarked.
‘She does have a way with swords,’ Bevan Brumm agreed.
Jasper said, ‘I think she’s the best Keeper of the Blades since …’
But he didn’t finish the sentence, falling silent at the sound of a sharp voice saying, ‘Morning, Smith. Is that new sword girl here? I want to check on my sword.’
‘Yes, Sir Walter, sir. She’s in the chamber.’
Tommy hastily put her cloths away then stood on the cold stone floor, holding the sword.
‘Sword Girl? Where’s my – oh, there it is.’
Tommy had her head bowed, but she peeked up as Sir Walter the Bald took his sword from her outstretched hands. She held her breath as he examined his sword from every angle.
‘Good day, Sir Walter.’ Sir Benedict entered the chamber, accompanied by Lil.
Sir Walter turned to face the new arrivals, his face glowing. ‘Sir Benedict! Doesn’t my sword look particularly marvellous today? Very pleasing, Sword Girl. Very pleasing indeed.’ He nodded once, slid his sword back into the centre of the main rack, and left the room. Tommy wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw a few smears of something sticky on the back of his neck. She smiled to herself. Sir Walter probably thought the physician’s mixture had worked. How surprised he would be to know that he hadn’t been suffering from mental confusion at all – his old nurse really had spoken to him!
‘Dear little Walter, he hasn’t changed a bit,’ said Nursie fondly. ‘And he certainly seems to approve of our sword girl.’
‘And so he should,’ said Bevan Brumm. ‘She’s just like that excellent sword boy we had, oh, about twenty years ago. He polished us and sharpened us and saw to it that we were never neglected.’
‘Exactly,’ Jasper broke in. ‘She’s the best Keeper of the Blades since …’ Again, he trailed off.
‘Since who?’ Tommy demanded.
‘Yes, since who?’ said Sir Benedict. He sounded amused.
Jasper gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Since you, sir.’
‘Thank you, Jasper Swann,’ said Sir Benedict. ‘You’re very kind.’
Tommy looked up at Sir Benedict. ‘You were a Keeper of the Blades, sir?’ she asked. ‘Like me?’
Sir Benedict smiled. ‘Yes I was, Tommy.’
‘Um, Sir Benedict?’ Tommy wasn’t sure how to ask her next question. ‘Why do Lil and the Old Wrecks and the other creatures of the castle talk to some people and not others?’
Sir Benedict looked thoughtful. ‘Many things can talk, Tommy, but only to those who take the trouble to listen. And listening is a skill which can’t be taught – like kindness can’t be taught. I’ll tell you something which can be taught, though: sword fighting. Why don’t you bring Jasper out to the courtyard and I’ll show you a few moves.’
Tommy thought her heart would burst with joy. It was as if all her dreams were coming true. She was the sword girl, and she was about to have a sword-fighting lesson with Sir Benedict. With a happy sigh, she drew her sword from the rack and hurried after her hero.
CHAPTER 1
‘MAKE WAY, MAKE WAY! Fifty kinds of fresh fish coming through for the kitchen!’
It was early morning, and Tommy was crossing the great courtyard of Flamant Castle. She dodged out of the way of the cart clattering across the flagstones, only to hear someone behind her yell: ‘Watch where you’re going, girlie. I’ve got five hundred eggs in this basket!’
‘Sorry,’ Tommy said, as the egg woman barged past her.
The courtyard was busier than she’d ever seen it. She stepped out of the path of a man rolling two enormous rounds of cheese, as big as cart wheels.
‘Poultry coming through: starlings, storks and swans!’
Tommy craned her head to look at the brace of birds the poultry man had slung around his neck. What was going on?
She had almost reached the armoury where she worked when she saw a small round man in brown robes. Despite all the activity in the courtyard, he was looking at the sky.
‘Good morning, sir,’ Tommy said to the physician.
‘Eh?’ said the physician. ‘Oh, hello, Sword Girl. Have you seen the carrier pigeon?’
‘No,’ said Tommy. ‘Not this morning.’
‘Bother. I need some of his droppings for one of my cures.’ The physician looked up at the sky again.
‘Sir, why is the castle so busy this morning?’ Tommy asked.
‘Busy?’ The physician looked around at the tradespeople hurrying to and fro. ‘I suppose it must be something to do with the great banquet,’ he said.
‘A great banquet?’ said Tommy, excited. ‘What banquet?’
But the physician had wandered off. ‘Where is that pigeon?’ he was muttering to himself.
Maybe the blacksmith would know something about the great banquet, Tommy hoped.
She entered the armoury to see the blacksmith standing by the fire, softening a piece of armour that needed reshaping. Several shields and helmets were stacked on the workbench, also in need of repair.
‘Smith, have you heard about the great banquet?’ Tommy asked.
The blacksmith looked up at her from under his bushy eyebrows. ‘Oh aye, I’ve heard about it,’ he said. ‘But we’ve no time for feastin’ here, Sword Girl. Sir Benedict and his men will be leaving tomorrow to patrol Sir Walter’s lands. They’ll need two dozen swords, so you’d better hop to it.’
‘Yes, Smith,’ said Tommy. ‘Right away.’
As Keeper of the Blades, it was her job to clean and sharpen all the bladed weapons of the castle.
She went through the door to the left of the fireplace into the sword chamber and quickly got to work. Pulling swords from the long rack against the wall opposite the door, she used a file and whetstone to sharpen the blades before polishing them with clove-scented oil.
‘You’re working hard this morning, dearie,’ came a voice from a small rack of swords in the dimmest part of the room. It was one of the Old Wrecks. These were the swords that had never been carried into battle, and so were never used by the knights of Flamant Castle.
They had been dusty and neglected when Tommy first started work in the sword chamber, but now their blades shone in the light of the candle flickering on the wall. What none of the knights knew – except Sir Benedict – was that the Old Wrecks were inhabited by the spirits of their last owners.
Tommy glanced at the sabre which had spoken. ‘Hello, Nursie,’ she said. ‘Smith told me that Sir Benedict is taking some of the knights out on a patrol tomorrow, so I have to get their swords ready.’
Sir Benedict was Flamant Castle’s bravest knight, and he was responsible for the safety of the castle and lands belonging to Sir Walter the Bald and his wife, Lady Beatrix the Bored.
‘A patrol, eh?’ a deep voice boomed from a long-handled dagger. ‘It sounds like trouble on the borders, if you ask me.’
‘Well I didn’t ask you, Bevan Brumm,’ Nursie replied. ‘What would you know about patrols? You were a merchant, not a knight.’
‘I think Bevan Brumm might be right, though,’ said another, younger voice. This was Jasper Swann. Jasper had been a squire, training to be a knight, before he fell ill and died. ‘I heard some of the knights talking in here the other day and one of them said that Sir Malcolm the Mean had been trying to steal some of Sir Walter’s land.’
‘Who is Sir Malcolm the Mean?’ Tommy wanted to know.
‘He has the lands to the west of here, dearie,’ Nursie explained. ‘But his own lands have never been enough for him. Oh no. He wants his neighbours’ lands too.’
‘He wants Sir Walter’s lands?’ exclaimed Tommy.
‘Not just his lands, Sword Girl,’ rumbled Bevan Brumm. ‘Sir Malcolm the Mean wants Flamant Castle – and if Sir Benedict can’t stop him at the border …’
Tommy’s heart started to pound. ‘What?’ she said. ‘What will happen if Sir Benedict can’t stop him?’
Bevan Brumm sounded grim. ‘Flamant Castle will be at war.’
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
FRANCES WATTS was born in the medieval city of Lausanne, in Switzerland, and moved to Australia when she was three. After studying literature at university she began working as an editor. Her bestselling picture books include Kisses for Daddy and the 2008 Children’s Book Council of Australia award-winner, Parsley Rabbit’s Book about Books (both illustrated by David Legge). Frances is also the author of a series about two very unlikely superheroes, Extraordinary Ernie and Marvellous Maud, and the highly acclaimed children’s fantasy/adventure series, the Gerander Trilogy.
Frances lives in Sydney’s inner west, and divides her time between writing and editing. Her cat doesn’t talk.
ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR
GREGORY ROGERS has always loved art and drawing so it’s no surprise he became an illustrator. He was the first Australian to win the prestigious Kate Greenaway Medal. The first of his popular wordless picture book series, The Boy, the Bear, the Baron, the Bard, was selected as one of the Ten Best Illustrated Picture Books of 2004 by the New York Times and short-listed for the Children’s Book Council of Australia Book of the Year Award in 2005. The third book, The Hero of Little Street, won the CBCA Picture Book of the Year in 2010. Gregory loves movies and music, and is a collector of books, antiques and anything odd and unusual.
He lives in Brisbane above a bookshop cafe with his cat Sybil.
‘I want you to fight in the tournament, Tommy.’
Flamant Castle is having a tournament! But when one of the squires is injured during practice, Sir Benedict asks Tommy to take his place. He even offers her one of his own horses to ride. It’s a dream come true for Tommy. There’s just one problem: she has never ridden a horse before – and every time she tries to ride Bess, the horse throws her off! Time is running out … How will Tommy be able to compete?
COMINGIN SEPTEMBER 2012
‘We’re under siege!’
When Sir Walter, Sir Benedict and the other knights go to nearby Roses Castle for a tournament, the enemy knights from Malice attack Flamant. The only hope of rescue lies in getting a message to Sir Benedict, a day’s ride away. But the castle is surrounded and there’s no way out! With the help of her friends, Tommy devises a daring plan. Can she save Flamant Castle before it’s too late?
COMINGIN SEPTEMBER 2012
The Secret of the Swords Page 3