ALSO BY FRANCES WATTS
AND ILLUSTRATED BY GREGORY ROGERS
The Secret of the Swords
The Poison Plot
The Siege Scare
SWORD GIRL
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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Crows Nest NSW 2065
Australia
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Fax: (61 2) 9906 2218
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ISBN 978 1 74237 989 0
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 July 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 Lady Christa the Best (friend)
F. W.
For Matt
G. R.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Preview Chapter: The Siege Scare
About the author
About the illustrator
CHAPTER 1
‘FLAMANT FOR VICTORY!’
The battle cry was so loud it carried through the thick stone walls of the armoury and all the way to the sword chamber where Tommy was working.
‘Flamant for victory!’
The cry was echoed by dozens of voices, followed by the thunder of horses’ hooves across the great courtyard of Flamant Castle. The castle’s squires were practising their jousting skills in preparation for the tournament that was only five days away.
Tommy held up the sword she was polishing and saw the blade gleam in the flickering light of the candle on the wall. With a sigh, she replaced it in the rack then picked up another sword from the pile on the floor beside her and dipped her rag into the pot of clove-scented oil.
The squires, who were training to be knights, would be jousting with lances on horseback, but the knights themselves would be competing in sword fights. The knights had been practising every day, and Tommy had been polishing and sharpening their swords from morning till night. In all the months she had been Keeper of the Blades, she had never been so busy.
The cries of the squires were drowned out by a clatter as Reynard, the Keeper of the Bows, burst into the armoury and dropped an armful of shields on the smith’s wooden table.
‘You’ve been gone a while,’ the smith observed with a grunt. ‘Busy in town, is it?’
‘You should see it, Smith,’ Reynard replied. ‘All the houses have banners on them in the colours of Flamant Castle, and the town is full of merchants who’ve come from all over for the fair in Jonglers Field.’
Tommy, who had lifted her head from her work to listen, ducked it again when she saw Reynard glance in her direction. Reynard had hated Tommy ever since she had been made the Keeper of the Blades instead of him.
But Reynard must have seen that Tommy was listening for he raised his voice to say, ‘There are going to be dancers and musicians – I even saw some acrobats practising their tumbling. I feel sorry for anyone who’s missing all the fun.’
Reynard didn’t sound very sorry at all, Tommy thought, as she scrubbed furiously at a smudge of dirt on the blade of a sword. She had been so excited when Sir Walter the Bald announced that Flamant Castle would be holding a tournament, and all the knights and squires of neighbouring Roses Castle had been invited. There was to be a grand procession followed by three days of competitions, with a big feast held every night. And on top of that, there was to be a fair in Jonglers Field, with stalls and games and entertainment. Tommy longed to see the preparations, but whenever Smith needed an errand run to the blacksmith in town, he sent Reynard instead of her. ‘I’m sorry, Sword Girl,’ he would say, ‘but you’re needed here.’
Tommy sighed again.
‘What’s the matter, dearie?’
The voice came from a sabre behind her. It was Nursie, one of the Old Wrecks. When Tommy had first become Keeper of the Blades, responsible for looking after all the bladed weapons of Flamant Castle, the Old Wrecks had been neglected for years. But Tommy soon discovered that the swords in the small rack in the darkest corner of the sword chamber were inhabited by the spirits of their previous owners.
‘I’m just thinking about the tournament,’ Tommy told her.
‘Ooh, the tournament,’ said Nursie. ‘What an exciting time. Why, I remember when my little darling fought in his first tournament. He won, of course.’ Nursie’s ‘little darling’, Tommy knew, was Sir Walter himself; Nursie had been his nursemaid.
A long-handled dagger with a deep voice chimed in, ‘And don’t forget the fair. All those stalls … There’ll be leather goods and delicious pies and spices and candles and – oh, anything you can imagine. It’s a fine time to be a merchant. Will you be buying anything at the fair, Sword Girl?’
‘You merchants are all the same, Bevan Brumm,’ Nursie scolded.
‘Always wanting people to buy things. But our sword girl is more interested in the tournament, aren’t you, dearie?’
While the sabre and the dagger argued over which was better, a tournament or a fair, Tommy’s spirits sank lower. She’d never seen a tournament or a fair.
As she sighed for a third time, a slender sword with a slightly curved blade spoke up. ‘It must be hard to be cooped up here in the sword chamber when there’s so much excitement going on outside.’ Jasper Swann, a squire, had been close to Tommy’s own age when he died. Perhaps that was why he often seemed to understand what she was feeling.
Tommy looked at the sword in her hand. ‘I wish I could be out there in the courtyard,’ she said. ‘Riding a horse and jousting.’ She thrust the sword forward at an imaginary opponent. It was Tommy’s dearest wish to one day become a squire. ‘But they’ll probably never let a girl ride in a tournament,’ she finished gloomily.
‘Don’t be downhearted, dearie,’ Nursie advised. ‘Your turn will come.’
‘That’s right, Sword Girl,’ Jasper agreed. ‘After all, whoever thought a kitchen girl would become the castle’s Keeper of the Blades? And look how quickly you—’
But before he could finish they heard a cry so loud it made Tommy drop her sword in fright. ‘What was that?’ she gasped.
CHAPTER 2
TOMMY RUSHED TO THE DOOR of the armoury. Smith and Reynard were there already, watching the scene unfolding in the great courtyard. The squires had ga
thered around a boy who was lying on the flagstones. His face was pale and his eyes were closed.
‘That’s young Edward,’ said Smith as Tommy joined them. ‘He was Keeper of the Blades before you, Sword Girl.’ He shook his head. ‘Fell from his horse, poor lad.’
Sir Hugh, who had been leading the squires in their practice, was kneeling beside the injured boy.
‘Go fetch the physician,’ he ordered, his voice loud.
Edward moaned and Tommy felt a twinge of sympathy.
‘There now, that’s enough goggle-eyein’,’ said Smith as the physician hurried across the courtyard, his robes flapping. ‘Back to work.’
Tommy returned to the sword chamber, still thinking of the pale-faced boy and his terrible cry. She hoped he would be all right.
When she had finally finished sharpening and polishing all the swords, Tommy hurried outside to find Lil. She would know if there was news about Edward. But Lil wasn’t in any of her usual spots in the great courtyard – probably all the clamour and clatter of the knights and squires practising had disturbed her. So Tommy went through the low arch leading from the courtyard and out the castle gate. Sure enough, there was the black and white cat, lying on a patch of sun-warmed grass beside the moat. The crocodiddle, who guarded the moat, had his head resting on the bank beside her.
‘Have you heard anything about Edward, the squire who was thrown from his horse?’ Tommy asked as she joined her friends. Tommy had discovered that most of the animals at Flamant Castle could talk, though they didn’t talk to everyone – only to those who were good at listening, as Sir Benedict put it.
‘Horses,’ snorted the crocodiddle. ‘The way people go on, you’d think the horse was the only noble creature the castle had ever seen. And it’s worse during tournaments. The horses get all dressed up in coats and hoods and wear ribbons in their tails. What about the noble crocodiddle? No one bothers with him.’ He pouted and splashed the water with his tail.
Lil stretched then sat up. ‘Edward is still being tended to by the physician, Tommy.’
‘I hope he’ll be able to ride in the tournament,’ Tommy said. ‘Think how disappointing it would be to miss out. I wish I was riding in the tournament.’
‘Ah, but tournaments are not just for fun, you know,’ said the cat. ‘They’re a good opportunity for knights and squires to practise their skills so they’re ready for battle. And you have a big responsibility, Tommy. Our knights need their swords to be in top condition if they are to perform well in the tournament. They are depending on their Keeper of the Blades.’
‘You’re right,’ said Tommy, feeling guilty when she recalled her earlier grumbling in the sword chamber.
‘What about me?’ said the crocodiddle. ‘Are they depending on me too?’
‘Of course they are,’ said the cat. ‘We all depend on you all the time.’
The crocodiddle grinned, showing two enormous rows of teeth.
Tommy stood up. ‘I’d better have some dinner and go to bed,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a lot of important work to do tomorrow.’
The next morning, as she crossed the courtyard on her way to the armoury, Tommy saw the small round figure of the physician staring into the sky. ‘Pigeon … Oh, Pigeon …’ he was calling. At first nothing happened, then there was a flutter of grey feathers and a cross voice said, ‘I gave you some droppings the day before yesterday. How can you have run out already?’ The carrier pigeon came to rest on a low wall.
‘There’s been an accident,’ the physician explained. ‘One of the squires fell during practice yesterday afternoon and he’s badly hurt. I need some more droppings to make the cure.’
‘How is Edward?’ Tommy asked.
The physician looked grave. ‘Broken leg,’ he said. ‘I doubt he’ll be riding a horse again anytime soon.’
A broken leg? So poor Edward would have to miss out on the tournament after all, Tommy thought as she entered the armoury.
As usual, the air in the armoury was warm from the fire of the forge and the stones echoed with the clanging of a hammer striking metal.
‘I just saw the physician,’ Tommy reported when the smith paused in his work. ‘Edward has broken his leg.’
‘So, Flamant Castle will be one squire short for the tournament, eh?’ the smith observed. ‘Sir Walter won’t like that.’
‘Quite right,’ said a voice behind them, making Tommy jump.
‘Sir Benedict,’ she said.
‘Good morning, Tommy,’ said the knight. ‘Morning, Smith.’
The smith put down his hammer. ‘Is it your shield again, Sir Benedict?’ he asked.
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Sir Benedict. ‘The strap has broken.’
The smith took the shield Sir Benedict held out and inspected it. ‘If you didn’t sling it around so much, you wouldn’t have so many broken straps,’ he told the knight.
If Flamant Castle’s bravest knight minded the smith telling him how to fight, he didn’t show it. He smiled and said, ‘You’re probably right, Smith. But can you fix it?’
The smith squinted at the strap then said, ‘I s’pose I could do a quick fix with tacks, but you’ll have to leave it with me – I’ve got all these other shields to see to first.’
‘Of course,’ said Sir Benedict. ‘And how about you, Tommy? Are we keeping you busy too?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Tommy. She led him into the sword chamber and showed him the pile of swords waiting for her attention. The pile seemed to have doubled in size overnight. ‘But I don’t mind.’
‘Good girl. But I’ve got another job for you, Tommy. As you just heard, Edward’s accident has left us one squire short for the tournament. What do you say?’
Tommy wasn’t sure she’d understood. ‘Do you mean … me?’ she asked.
Sir Benedict nodded. ‘That’s right. I want you to fight in the tournament.’
CHAPTER 3
TOMMY STARED AT the knight in amazement. ‘Me?’ she repeated. ‘In the tournament?’
Sir Benedict nodded again. ‘Would you like that?’
‘Yes!’ exclaimed Tommy. ‘I mean, yes please, sir.’ For a moment she just beamed at him, so full of excitement she was unable to speak. Then something occurred to her. ‘But Sir Benedict, I’ve never ridden a horse before,’ she confessed.
Sir Benedict frowned. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. I’m sorry, Tommy. It looks like I’ll have to find someone else.’
Tommy’s heart sank like a stone as he turned away.
‘She can learn,’ said a voice behind them.
Sir Benedict turned around. ‘What was that, Jasper?’ he asked.
‘I said Sword Girl can learn, sir,’ Jasper Swann repeated. ‘She’s as quick as anything.’
‘It’s true,’ Nursie broke in. ‘I’ve never seen anyone pick up new skills like our sword girl. She’ll learn to ride a horse in no time.’
‘Is that right?’ said Sir Benedict.
‘They are not wrong,’ said Bevan Brumm in his dignified manner.
‘Of course we’re not wrong,’ snapped Nursie. ‘Now, what do you say, Sir Benedict: will you give our sword girl a chance?’
Tommy’s heart pounded as Sir Benedict gazed at her thoughtfully.
‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘I will. Tommy, I’ll ask the stable master to lend you one of my own mounts. Go to the stables tomorrow morning straight after breakfast. You can practise riding in the mornings and then join the other squires for jousting practice with Sir Hugh in the afternoons. You’ve got a lot to learn, and only three days to learn it in.’
‘But what about all these swords?’ Tommy asked, pointing to the pile.
‘Don’t worry about that.’ Sir Benedict stepped out into the armoury. ‘Smith, I’ve asked Tommy to take Edward’s place in the tournament. She’ll be doing a lot of practising in the next few days. Can you see to it that she has help with the work in the sword chamber?’
‘That’ll be no problem, Sir Benedict,’ the smith assured h
im. Then his face split in a huge grin. ‘Our sword girl fighting in the tournament, eh?’
As Sir Benedict left the armoury the smith shouted, ‘Oi, Reynard!’
‘What?’ Reynard asked rudely from the bow chamber.
‘Sword Girl needs to practise for the tournament. You’ll have to help out looking after the blades.’
‘What do you mean she’s practising for the tournament?’ the Keeper of the Bows demanded. He appeared in the doorway of the bow chamber, face set in a scowl.
Smith shrugged. ‘Just what I said, lad. Sir Benedict has asked her to be in the tournament.’
Reynard’s face turned as red as his hair. ‘Her?’ he spluttered. ‘In the tournament? And you want me to do her work?’
‘No time like the present,’ said Smith. ‘There’s a stack of swords that need cleaning. You can get started straight away. Sword Girl, I need some more of these small tacks to fix Sir Benedict’s shield. Would you go to the blacksmith in town for me?’
‘In town?’ said Tommy, remembering Reynard’s tales of the preparations going on for the fair. ‘Yes please!’
She raced out of the armoury so fast she almost collided with Sir Benedict, who was standing outside talking to Sir Hugh.
‘Where are you off to in such a rush, Tommy?’ he asked.
‘I’m going to town, sir,’ she said. ‘On an errand for Smith.’
‘Hmm, that reminds me … While you’re there, Tommy, perhaps you’d call by the cloth merchant and ask him to have two lengths of pink cloth and one of sky blue sent to the castle.’
‘Yes, Sir Benedict.’
As she ran across the flagstones towards the castle gate, Tommy had never been so happy. She was going to be in the tournament! She was going to learn to ride a horse! And best of all, she was closer than ever to her dream of being the first-ever girl squire!
Tournament Trouble: Sword Girl Book 3 Page 1