Medieval Upheaval

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “There’s no time,” Frank said, shaking his head. “And we don’t know where Aunt Gertrude is to drive us back.”

  “No problem,” Joe decided. He looked around for something to write with. He grabbed a twig and carved the word “suspects” into a patch of dirt.

  “The person who stole Chet’s ring could have been anybody here at the fair,” Frank decided. “Who wouldn’t want the grand prize?”

  Joe looked around. The sword-in-the-cheese and the tree were in an out-of-the-way place.

  “Somebody could have followed us here,” Joe suggested. “But who?”

  “What about Matty and Scotty?” Frank asked. “They were acting like the prize should have been theirs.”

  “But Daisy said the twins went to some pie eating contest,” Joe said.

  “That’s where they said they were going,” Frank pointed out. “They could have been secretly hanging out back here watching us.”

  “Those twins were always trouble times two!” Joe said as he scratched the twins names into the dirt.

  “Speaking of trouble,” Frank said. “What about Adam Ackerman? He and his friends looked mad when Sir Thanksalot scared them away.”

  “Mad enough to get even,” Joe said, and sighed. “That’s Adam!”

  Joe added Adam’s name to the list. “We have our first suspects,” Joe said. “Now where do we look for clues?”

  “How about at the scene of the crime?” Frank suggested.

  The brothers went back to the tree. They looked down around the tree’s thick roots.

  “This tree is surrounded by grass,” Frank pointed out. “Footprints are going to be hard to find.”

  “Who needs footprints?” Joe said with a smile. “I think I found something better!”

  Joe kneeled down. He pointed to something shining in the grass. Brushing aside the grass, he picked up a small round silver bell.

  “It could have been there before we got here,” Frank said.

  “It wasn’t!” Joe insisted.

  “How do you know?” Frank asked.

  “Because I was sitting down in that same spot,” Joe explained. “If I’d sat on a bell, I would have known it!”

  “Okay, but what does a bell have to do with Adam?” Frank asked. “Or Matty and Scotty?”

  “Maybe the bell belonged to some other suspect,” Joe figured. “But who?”

  As Joe dropped the bell into his pocket, a rustling noise interrupted his thoughts. Frank heard it too. The brothers turned to see a knight peeking out from behind a tree in the distance.

  “Hello?” Joe called.

  The knight ducked behind the tree. All that stuck out was the red plume on his helmet.

  “Didn’t Sir Thanksalot have a red feather on his helmet?” Frank asked in a low voice.

  Joe nodded just as Sir Thanksalot slipped out from behind the tree and hurried away. It wasn’t long before the mysterious knight disappeared into the crowd.

  “That was weird,” Frank said. “It’s as if Sir Thanksalot were watching us.”

  “Yeah,” Joe said. “But why?”

  4

  Bell Boy

  The brothers decided not to look for Sir Thanksalot. They had a missing prize ring to find. But first Joe had a giant turkey leg to buy for lunch!

  “Let’s see Sir Thanksalot eat this through his helmet!” Joe said, waving the gargantuan drumstick.

  “I still can’t figure out what he wants,” Frank said. “And why he followed us like that.”

  Joe nodded in agreement.

  “I know Sir Thanksalot saved us from Adam,” Joe said, “but he’s turning into a real knight-mare. Get it?”

  “Give it up, Joe,” Frank said with a groan. “The jester contest is over.”

  Jester contest?

  “Frank, the bell!” Joe said.

  “What about it?” Frank asked.

  “Dougie had bells on his cap and shoes,” Joe remembered. “And Chet ruined Dougie’s jokes by calling out the answers.”

  “Dougie also said Chet would be sorry,” Frank replied. “Maybe he got even by stealing Chet’s prize.”

  “And dropped one of his bells in the act!” Joe said. “What do you think, Frank?”

  “I think we’d better find Dougie Skulnick,” Frank said.

  The brothers raced to the stage. The Jester Joke Slam contest was over. Only one kid stood juggling beanbags near the stage.

  “Hi,” Frank said. “Do you remember a guy named Dougie from the joke contest?”

  The boy kept on juggling, his eyes pinned on the whirling beanbags. “Sure, I remember Dougie,” he said.

  “Where’d he go?” Joe asked.

  “Last time I saw Dougie, he was going into Falcon Forest,” the boy said, still juggling. “He said something about a ring—”

  “A ring?” Joe gasped.

  “Which way is Falcon Forest?” Frank asked.

  “How can I point when I’m juggling?” the boy complained. “Follow the signs and you’ll find it.”

  “Uh, thanks, I guess,” Frank said as he and Joe left the kid, still juggling beanbags.

  “So Dougie did say something about a ring,” Joe said after chomping into his turkey leg. “Frank, this is huge!”

  “So is that drumstick!” Frank joked. “Now let’s look for Falcon Forest.”

  All through the park were wooden signs shaped like arrows. A green one pointed toward Falcon Forest. Frank and Joe found the forest a few feet away. Another arrow pointed to the opening, a pebbly path leading into the forest.

  The brothers were nearing the opening when Joe stopped. He put his hand to his ear.

  “Frank, did you hear that?” Joe asked. “It sounds like bells inside the forest.”

  Frank listened closely. He heard it too.

  “Dougie was wearing bells,” Frank said. “That could be him in there!”

  Joe waved his drumstick at the opening and said, “Come on, Frank. Let’s go!”

  “Wait!” Frank said. He pointed to another sign that read NO BELLY TIMBER. “What do you think it means?”

  Joe read the sign and shrugged.

  “We’ve got some turkey, but we’ve got no timber in our bellies,” Joe said. He used the turkey leg to point to the opening. “Now let’s get our man!”

  The brothers followed a pebbly path into the thick green forest. They saw other guests exploring the forest, but no Dougie.

  “I kuhh I hane, ank,” Joe mumbled, taking another bite of his turkey leg. “I heard em ow and cur.”

  “I can’t understand you with your mouth full!” Frank complained.

  Frank was about to call Dougie’s name when another sound filled the air—a loud fluttering sound.

  “What’s that?” Frank whispered.

  Joe and Frank paused.

  Joe waved his hand. “Probably nothing, just some wind or—”

  Suddenly Joe’s hand froze around the drumstick. The fluttering sound grew louder and louder. It seemed like it was getting closer and closer to the boys. Until—

  Screech, screeeeeeeech!

  Frank and Joe stared straight ahead, openmouthed. Swooping toward them was a giant bird with an enormous wingspan and needle-sharp talons!

  “Aaaah!” Joe shouted. “Bird attack!”

  5

  Brave the Cave

  A man dressed in a leather tunic burst out from between some trees. He grasped a thin rope attached to the bird’s foot.

  “Drop the drumstick, kid!” he shouted. “Drop the drumstick!”

  Joe dropped his giant turkey leg onto the ground. The bird swooped down onto it. A small bell tied to the bird’s foot jingled as he pecked.

  “That’s all he wanted,” the man said, sighing.

  Frank and Joe looked up at the man, tethered to the bird.

  “Who are you?” Frank asked.

  “I’m John, the falconer,” the man replied. “I handle most of the falcons in this forest.”

  “Oh yeah?” Joe said. He nodd
ed down at the bird, still eating heartily. “How come you couldn’t handle this guy?”

  “How come you didn’t read the sign?” John asked. He pointed down at the drumstick. “No belly timber allowed!”

  “ ‘Belly timber’ means ‘food’?” Frank asked.

  “It did in the Middle Ages,” John said.

  “We don’t talk Middle Age!” Joe exclaimed. He looked down at the falcon. “And why does that bird have a bell on his foot?”

  “All of the falcons here have bells on their legs,” John explained. “It’s how we track them in case they fly away. Falconers have been doing it that way since the time of King Arthur.”

  “We thought the bell belonged to a jester we were looking for,” Frank explained.

  “You didn’t happen to see a kid jester here in the forest,” Joe asked John, “did you?”

  “Come to think of it,” John said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “there was a kid dressed like a jester here about an hour ago.”

  “Seriously?” Joe said excitedly.

  “What was he doing?” Frank asked.

  “He was just walking through the forest,” John said. “He stopped to pet one of the falcons.”

  “Did the jester say anything?” Joe asked.

  “Just something about taking a shortcut,” John explained. “But he never said where he was going.”

  Frank wanted to ask John if the jester was carrying a gold ring, until the falcon flapped its wings and took off.

  “Gotta fly!” John joked. Then, holding his end of the rope, he hurried after the falcon through the forest.

  “Thanks for your help!” Joe called after him. He looked down at the eaten drumstick and said, “Oh, and keep the belly timber.”

  The brothers hurried down the forest path. They could see a light up ahead, and they knew they’d found the way out of the forest.

  When they finally made their way to the end of the path, Frank and Joe looked around.

  “There he is!” Joe shouted. He pointed to Dougie standing in the near distance. Dougie was wearing his jester costume and holding something gold in his hand.

  “Chet’s ring!” Frank exclaimed.

  The brothers raced toward Dougie.

  “What’s up?” Dougie asked, twirling the big ring on his index finger.

  “We want that ring you’re spinning,” Joe replied. He held out his hand and said, “So why don’t you put it right there?”

  “No way,” Dougie complained. “Get your own ring!”

  “There’s only one grand prize, and you know it, Dougie,” Frank said. “It was won by Chet Morton.”

  “Did you steal Chet’s prize ring or not?” Joe asked.

  “I didn’t steal anything,” Dougie insisted.

  “Then what’s that?” Joe said, pointing to the ring on Dougie’s finger.

  “Huzzah!” a voice boomed.

  The boys turned to see another crier. He cupped his hands around his mouth as he shouted, “Prepare ye all for the Royal Ring Toss. The Royal Ring Toss shall begin!”

  “Yes!” Dougie cheered under his breath. “I’m going to ace the ring toss contest this year.”

  “Ring toss?” Frank said.

  “Contest?” Joe asked.

  Dougie nodded as he handed Joe the ring.

  “I picked this one from the ring toss bucket,” Dougie said. “It looks lucky, don’t you think?”

  Frank and Joe studied the ring. It was wrapped with a dark red ribbon. Chet’s ring had no ribbon around it.

  “It looks smaller than Chet’s ring too,” Joe said.

  “That’s because it’s not Chet’s ring,” Dougie said. “Why would I want to steal Chet’s prize anyway?”

  “Because he ruined your act?” Frank suggested.

  “Ruined?” Dougie said. He shook his head. “Chet helped me win the Jester Joke Slam!”

  “You mean you won?” Frank asked.

  “Even with Chet yelling out the answers to your jokes?” Joe said.

  “Chet is why I won,” Dougie explained. “Everyone thought he was part of the act.”

  “So you weren’t mad at him?” Joe asked.

  “Mad at Chet?” Dougie said. The bells on his cap jangled as he shook his head. “I should thank him.”

  Frank and Joe watched Dougie race to the ring toss field. Why would Dougie want revenge on Chet if he had helped him win?

  “I checked out the bells on Dougie’s cap and shoes,” Frank added. “They were blue, not silver like the one you found.”

  “So Dougie didn’t steal Chet’s prize ring,” Joe said, and sighed. “I guess the joke was on us!”

  Frank and Joe wanted to watch the ring toss contest, but they had work to do.

  “Time is running out,” Frank said. “We have to find the ring thief before the knights’ joust.”

  “Speaking of knights,” Joe said, looking past Frank. “There’s our worst knight-mare.”

  Frank turned around and frowned. It was Sir Thanksalot, following them again!

  Joe spotted a cave opening cut into a rocky mountainside. According to a sign, it was the Dragon Cave.

  “Come on, Frank,” Joe said. “Let’s lose that tin man!”

  Frank and Joe slipped into the cave. It was dark, but they could make out some chalk drawings on the stone walls. The pictures were all of fire-breathing dragons.

  “Let’s go deeper into the cave, Joe,” Frank suggested. “Just in case Thanksalot decides to come in here too!”

  The brothers walked down a cool, dark tunnel.

  “Do you think there’s a dragon in here?” Joe asked. “Why else would they call it the Dragon Cave?”

  “Give me a break,” Frank said with a grin. “There’s no such thing as—”

  Frank stopped midsentence as laughter echoed through the tunnel. The brothers froze. They listened as the laughing voices began to speak. . . .

  “Morton didn’t have a clue we took it!” a boy said, and snickered.

  “Yeah.” Another boy chuckled. “We just grabbed it and ran!”

  Frank and Joe traded stares.

  “I know those voices,” Frank whispered.

  “Me too,” Joe whispered back. “It’s Adam and his friends—and they stole something from Chet!”

  6

  The Pits!

  Frank and Joe heard footsteps. They flattened themselves against a wall as three shadowy figures rushed past them through the tunnel.

  The brothers raced to the mouth of the cave. They looked outside. Adam and his friends were walking away.

  When Adam stopped to buy a snow cone, Joe spotted something that made his jaw drop. A medieval-style pouch was hanging from Adam’s shoulder. Inside the pouch was the outline of a ring!

  “Adam’s got Chet’s ring!” Joe exclaimed. “And it’s in that bag!”

  Frank and Joe shouted Adam’s name as they charged toward the snow cone stand.

  “We know what you stole, Ackerman!” Frank said.

  “Give it back!” Joe demanded.

  Adam, Seth, and Tony spun around, snow cones in their hands.

  “What are you talking about?” Adam demanded.

  “That thing you said you stole from Morton,” Joe repeated. “We want it!”

  Cracking a small smile, Adam said, “You want it? Come get it!”

  Adam handed his snow cone to Tony, then took off.

  “Two snow cones!” Tony exclaimed. “Am I lucky or what?”

  Frank and Joe didn’t feel lucky. Adam was getting away with Chet’s ring!

  “We’ve got to get him!” Frank declared.

  Frank and Joe ran as fast as they could. They chased Adam through a giant puppet parade, an acrobat show, and the archery court. They were about to dart across the human chessboard when the brothers screeched to a stop.

  “Frank,” Joe said, trying to catch his breath, “do you see what I see?”

  Frank nodded as he panted too. Adam was entering the Medieval Maze!

  Joe
stared at the maze. Jumping over the muck pit wouldn’t be easy, but how else were they going to try and catch Adam?

  “We’re going in too, Frank!” Joe insisted.

  “Great,” Frank groaned as they ran toward the gate. “Muck pit, here we come!”

  Joe was inside the maze first. He could see Adam making his way across the rope bridge. First Joe had to crawl through the slinky Serpent Tunnel. He scrambled through the tunnel, as fast as lightning. Now he was just a few feet behind Adam.

  The chase was on. Adam climbed over a wall, swung on a rope, and crawled under a fence made of painted tires. Joe did the same. But just as Joe was about to walk after Adam across a balance beam, another kid ran in front of him!

  “Aw, come on!” Joe complained.

  By the time Joe jumped off the beam, Adam was already at the final stop. Joe gulped. It was the muck pit. Adam stood a few inches from the edge of the pit. He looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Game over, Hardy!”

  Holding the bag, Adam took a few steps back. He then made a running jump and—SPLAT!

  Joe couldn’t believe his eyes. Adam Ackerman had fallen right into the mud!

  “Arrrgh!” Adam cried.

  The bag flew out of Adam’s hand. It landed with a CLUNK on the other side of the muck pit. Joe stared across the pit at the bag. Adam was trying to stand up but kept slipping back down.

  Frank caught up with Joe and shook his head. “Forget it,” he said glumly. “I don’t think you are going to catch up. Ask them to let you skip this part!”

  “Skip it? No way!” Joe exclaimed. “I can do this!”

  Joe ran back a few feet. He gritted his teeth, scrunched his fists, and ran for it. With a flying leap Joe made it across the muck pit to the other side!

  “Go, Joe!” Frank shouted.

  Joe picked up the bag. He waved it in the air and yelled, “Game still on, Ackerman!”

  Adam slipped and slid in the muck pit as he tried to stand up.

  “Coming through!” Frank shouted as he leaped over Adam and the muck pit too.