by Lou Kuenzler
“I’ll just have to ride,” he said firmly. “There’s nothing else to do.”
“Unless…” A wonderful, exciting idea shot through Grace’s mind like a bolt of lightning. She picked up the helmet from where it lay in the ditch and slipped it over her head.
“I can ride for you!” she cried, her voice sounding strange as it echoed through the helmet. “It’s my fault you fell over. I’ve already ruined the parade. If you don’t ride, the tournament will be ruined too.”
“B-but…you can’t do that!” spluttered Wilbur.
“Why not? You’re not even supposed to be a knight anymore,” said Grace.
“I was a pretty hopeless one anyway,” groaned Wilbur. “I find it so frightening when the other knights charge at me.”
“I’d love to charge like a knight.” Grace grinned. “Just once, at least. It is not the sort of thing a princess usually gets to do.”
“WILBUR!” The squire’s voice was getting closer and closer.
“Quick,” said Grace. “Climb out of your armor. Then you go to the hospital tent, and I’ll ride in the joust. It’s the best way to save the tournament.”
Safely disguised as a bold knight, Grace clanked back around the side of the stripy tent. She was glad that the long train had been ripped off the golden dress. Otherwise, she would never have been able to fit inside the suit of armor at all.
Her mouth felt dry as she peered out of the metal visor, which came down like a narrow letter box over her eyes. She was surprised how clearly she could see out. Yet no one would have any idea who was hidden beneath the helmet.
“THERE YOU ARE, WILBUR. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, BOY?” A huge mountain of a man with a bristly black mustache strode toward her. He had a black leather patch over one eye and a deep scar under the other. It was Squire Bellows for sure.
No wonder Wilbur is scared of him, thought Grace. Her own heart was pounding, and she was sure Scarlet would have fainted clean away.
“COME ALONG, THEN, LAD,” he boomed. From inside her helmet, Grace saw that his teeth were as chipped and cracked as broken plates. “I’VE GOT THUNDER SADDLED UP AND READY TO GO.”
A stableboy led a huge black charger toward them. The horse skittered sideways and whinnied, flaring his nostrils like a dragon. Grace wondered if she had made a terrible mistake. But she couldn’t run away now. Not in a suit of armor. And she had promised to help Wilbur and save the joust.
“STEADY, THUNDER,” warned the squire, patting the beast on its huge flank.
Then he picked Grace up as if she and the armor weighed no more than a loaf of bread and plonked her in the saddle.
“GET GOING, SIR KNIGHT,” he roared. “THE CONTEST HAS BEGUN.”
“B-but,” mumbled Grace through her visor.
“NO TIME TO ARGUE, YOUNG FELLOW,” snapped Squire Bellows. He threw Grace a lance and slapped Thunder soundly on the rump. “KNOCK ’EM DOWN, LAD. KNOCK ’EM DOWN, WILBUR.”
“I’ll try my best,” squealed Grace as the horse reared up and galloped toward the joust.
The rules of the joust were simple. Grace had to wield the great lance and knock other knights off their horses. She must topple them first, before they could unseat her.
A knight on a gray horse was charging toward her already, waving his lance like an enormous sword.
Grace tried for a moment to pull Thunder round and flee. Her plan had been crazy. She couldn’t fight like this. But it was no good. Thunder was determined to charge forward.
There was no choice but to joust.
I can do this, thought Grace. I know I can. She was good at knocking things down…very good!
She swooshed her lance through the air.
“Ahhhh!”
The knight on the gray horse unbalanced and tumbled to the ground.
Then a fat knight with a long green feather in his helmet charged forward.
Grace swiped her lance in front of her as if it was a pitchfork and she was shoveling dung in the stable yard.
Crash.
The knight with the green feather was gone too.
The crowd leapt to their feet and cheered wildly for the tough little rider on the fine black horse.
“BY GUM, WILBUR. I HAVE NEVER SEEN YOU RIDE LIKE THIS.” Squire Bellows’s voice rose above the noise.
“How brave he is!” whooped the spectators. “How fast he knocks the others down!”
Safe inside her armor, Grace did feel brave. She felt strong and fearless as her long legs gripped the saddle and her arms waved the lance in the air.
Beneath her, Thunder swerved and spun. Wilbur was right. The horse knew exactly what he was supposed to do.
He’s magnificent, thought Grace.
With no more than a gentle tug on his reins, Thunder was ready to turn and charge again.
“Good boy!” cried Grace, leaning forward to pat him gently with her enormous iron glove.
Riding the big black charger was really no different from the times she had galloped Billy through the woods or along the beach.
Bam!
Another knight fell.
“Thank goodness I am not doing this sidesaddle,” laughed Grace. “They would have knocked me down like a china ornament.”
Bam!
Another knight rolled in front of her, rattling across the ground like an old tin can.
“Who’s clumsy now?” Grace grinned. And—crash!—she knocked the last and fastest of the knights to the ground.
The crowd went wild.
Grace flung her arms round Thunder’s neck. “Thank you,” she breathed.
“The contest is won!” cried Sir Rolling-Trot, leaping out of the umpire’s chair, where he had been watching to check that none of the knights broke the rules.
“WHAT A CHAMPION!” proclaimed Squire Bellow, lifting Grace down from her horse.
“Well done, Cousin Wilbur!” cried Scarlet from the First Year seats.
Grace could see her father and Pip cheering in the front row of the stands, though they had no idea that it was her inside the suit of armor, of course.
Oh dear, thought Grace. Now what should I do?
She had never meant to win the joust.
“What a wonderful tournament this has been,” said Lady DuLac, stepping onto the grass. Her gaze rested for a moment on Fairy Godmother Flint and the First Years. “Where is Grace?” she asked. “Hasn’t she come back yet? She needs to present the trophy now.”
Grace’s face felt hot inside the helmet. Everyone would think she was very spoiled to have run away like that and not come back.
“Princess Precious will present the trophy instead,” said Flintheart calmly. “Since Princess Grace appears to have vanished…along with the golden dress.”
Grace saw her father and Pip exchange a worried glance. Scarlet and Izumi were looking in every direction, trying to spot her.
If only they knew that she was here, inside the armor. But she couldn’t show herself. She had to keep Wilbur’s secret safe.
Precious was curtsying to the crowd with an enormous grin on her face. She was clearly delighted that Grace had vanished and she got to award the trophy after all.
“WHATEVER IS THE MATTER WITH YOU, BOY?” Squire Bellows slapped Grace so hard on the back of her armor that her teeth rattled. “TAKE YOUR HELMET OFF WHEN A PRINCESS APPROACHES.”
Precious was gliding across the grass toward them.
“I can’t,” coughed Grace, trying to make her voice sound gruff like a boy’s. She held on to her helmet desperately. She was sure that everyone could hear her heart beating against the armor. “I’m too shy,” she whispered, thinking that was exactly how Wilbur would feel.
Precious held out the trophy. “Con-gratulations, brave knight.” She smiled and curtsied low to the ground.
“LET THE PEOPLE SEE YOUR FACE, MY BOY!” cried Squire Bellows. “YOU SHOULD BE PROUD OF A RIDE LIKE THAT.”
Pop!
He pulled the helmet off Grace’s head.
The cr
owd gasped.
Quickly, Grace tried to duck down inside the armor. But it was hopeless.
“I say, is that you, Grace?” Sir Rolling-Trot said, jumping out of his chair again. He slapped his sides and laughed. “Well, I never. You are the winning knight!”
“WHAT THE BLAZES IS GOING ON? WHERE IS WILBUR?” thundered Squire Bellows.
“You mean I just curtsied…to Grace?” Precious screamed. “That is so embarrassing.”
The crowd roared with laughter—especially the First Year princesses.
“This is just too funny,” squealed the twins.
“I wish you had never come to this school, Grace,” wailed Precious, burying her hands deep in her banana-colored curls.
Grace felt as if everything was in slow motion. The noise was almost deafening now. The squire was bellowing in her ear, and the crowd was shouting in confusion, trying to find out what was going on.
“Quiet, please,” said Lady DuLac.
Suddenly the sound of a trumpet rang out across the field.
The crowd hushed. Grace turned, ex-pecting to see a minstrel.
But it was Wilbur.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Your Royal High-nesses,” he began. He was no longer swaying with dizziness, but his voice shook with nerves as he spoke. “I have something to explain.”
Wilbur bravely told the crowd of kings and queens how Grace had taken his place.
“She did it to help me and to make sure the joust could go ahead,” he said.
When he had told the whole story, a hush fell over the field. The only sound was Grace’s trembling knees as they clanked against the inside of her armor. It felt like the stunned silence would last forever.
But Lady DuLac stepped forward and took Grace by the hand.
Fairy Godmother Flint came striding across the grass too, her face solemn and thoughtful.
“I’m sorry I made such a mess of everything,” whispered Grace. “I ruined the parade. My dress is ripped to shreds and…”
“Nonsense,” said Lady DuLac. “I am very proud to have you representing Tall Towers today. You may not be standing here in front of us in the golden dress as we expected, but you have a trophy to prove you were a worthy choice to be our Golden Princess.” Lady DuLac lifted the cup high in the air and the crowd cheered. “You rode with great talent and energy out there today. You showed courage and enthusiasm. But you also showed dignity and true grace.”
“Really?” Grace’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “All I did was knock things down.”
“Ah,” said Lady DuLac. “But you showed inner grace; that is what matters. A pretty curtsy is a useful thing for a royal girl to know how to do, but a true princess needs something deeper inside. That is what you showed us today, Grace. Although you yourself were very upset, you saw that Wilbur was in distress and you helped him. You did it for the good of everybody here. That is what true grace means.”
Grace felt her cheeks blush. She couldn’t believe Lady DuLac was talking about her. A worthy Golden Princess—it seemed impossible to believe.
But Flintheart held up her hand. “I have something to add,” she announced.
Grace’s heart banged like a hammer. What was the strict fairy godmother going to say?
“You also showed great elegance,” said Flintheart warmly. Her stern face broke into a broad, happy smile—something Grace had never seen before. “Your back was as straight as a rod when you were riding out there.”
Grace didn’t want to say that a stiff suit of armor was a great help with that.
“Perhaps we should add jousting to your deportment class,” roared Sir Rolling-Trot.
Grace giggled.
“I think that is going a little too far,” said Flintheart. Her face was stony once more.
“AND I THINK WE SHOULD HAVE A LAP OF HONOR FROM OUR YOUNG PRINCESS,” announced Squire Bellows.
Wilbur blew a fanfare on his trumpet.
The crowd cheered as Grace was lifted back onto Thunder. She could see her father leaping up and down with Pip on his shoulders.
“Well done, Grace! You were absolutely marvelous!” he roared.
Grace saw the shocked faces of Visalotta’s parents, who were standing near him. Her aunt and uncle shook their heads. But she didn’t care. So what if he was a little loud? Why shouldn’t Papa be excited? She was glad to make him proud.
“Just canter Thunder twice around the ring. That should do it,” said Sir Rolling-Trot as she found her stirrups.
Grace and Thunder charged away.
They were beginning their second lap when Grace saw a blur of movement out of the corner of her eye. Something black and white was hurtling toward her.
Oh no, they’ve sent another knight to joust with me, she thought.
But as she turned, she saw it wasn’t a knight charging across the ring. It was Billy.
He must have broken out of his stable.
He was galloping toward her, shaking his head at the giant horse and waving his horn like a lance.
He’s jealous, thought Grace.
Billy charged forward and put his horn underneath her foot.
Bam!
The next thing Grace knew, she had clattered to the ground as Billy unseated her.
“You silly old thing,” she said as he nuzzled her. “I loved riding Thunder, but I would never swap him for you.”
Sir Rolling-Trot caught hold of Thunder, who was quaking with fear. Billy snorted at him.
The First Years—all except Precious—streamed onto the grass and helped Grace to her feet.
Even the twins joined in, patting Grace on the back and making her armor clang loudly. “That really was hilarious,” they squealed.
“I don’t think it made me or Billy look very elegant.” Grace smiled as Scarlet and Izumi appeared beside her.
Grace’s bun had come undone when Billy nuzzled her, and now her hair was flowing wildly down the back of her suit of armor.
“Jousting is so incredible,” said Visalotta, pushing to the front of the group. Grace was amazed to see that her eyes were sparkling. She had never seen Visalotta excited about anything. “I’m going to ask for a suit of armor for my birthday!” she cried. She was leaping up and down now, and her whole face was bright and alive.
“Golly! I bet it will be made of solid gold,” gasped the twins.
“I don’t care if it’s made from an old tin can.” Visalotta shrugged. “I just want to have a go at jousting.”
“Good for you,” said Grace, putting her arm around Visalotta’s shoulders, delighted that the princess had at last found something that made her happy.
“We should get Sir Rolling-Trot to teach us.” Visalotta clapped.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” said Grace.
“We could have a school jousting club!” cried Princess Latisha. “With contests. It would be amazing.”
“So you’re not furious with me for ruining the parade?” asked Grace as she looked around at her classmates.
“Of course not,” said Izumi.
“It wasn’t even your fault,” said Scarlet.
Grace knew her friends were just being kind. The whole parade had been spoiled the minute she tumbled down the steps.
“Of course it was my fault,” she said. “You know how clumsy I am. I—”
“No.” Scarlet opened her hand. “It really wasn’t your fault. Look!”
“Pearls?” Grace stared at a little pile of loose beads in Scarlet’s palm. “I don’t understand.”
“We found them on the steps. Right after you slipped,” said Izumi.
“But those are Precious’s pearls. The ones I broke,” said Grace. “How did they…? Oh…”
Suddenly everything made sense. Grace remembered how her feet had felt as if they were rolling away from underneath her.
“Precious said she was going to teach you a lesson,” Visalotta said. “She was very excited about something all last night.”
“I think she must have put the pearls
on the steps deliberately,” said Izumi. “To make sure you would trip.”
“How absolutely rotten,” gasped the twins. And for once they did look truly shocked.
“She was jealous you were the Golden Princess,” said Scarlet. “Precious wanted to make you look foolish even if it meant risking her valuable pearls.”
“But her plan didn’t quite work, did it?” said a stern voice.
The First Years looked round to see Fairy Godmother Flint standing behind them. Her eyes were flashing with anger.
“I’ll take those,” she said, holding out her hand for the pearls. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to have a word with Princess Precious.”
As the kings and queens climbed into their royal boats, ready to sail away for the holidays, twelve First Year princesses lingered on the shore for a moment before they joined them.
“It really has been a wonderful term, hasn’t it?” said Grace.
“I almost wish it wasn’t the holidays,” said Visalotta.
“I’m going to miss Beauty,” said Scarlet. “Who’d have thought I was scared of unicorns just a few weeks ago.”
Grace smiled. She was going to miss Billy too. She had tucked him into his stable with a bowl of fresh peaches and made Sir Rolling-Trot promise to let him out into the meadow every day.
“Hold on a minute,” said Princess Emmeline. “There are only twelve of us here. Who’s missing?”
“Precious,” said Princess Latisha. “Old Flintheart was absolutely furious about the horrible trick she played with the pearls. Precious isn’t allowed to go home until she has scooped up all the poop in Silver Meadow.”
“Golly,” squealed the twins. “That really isn’t a very princessy job.”
“And there’s going to be a lot of poop from all that jousting,” said Grace.
She looked across the harbor and saw her aunt and uncle pacing impatiently on the deck of their speedboat.
The clouds looked heavy now, and a large white snowflake fluttered down toward them.