Brightheart the Knight's Pony

by Poppy Shire

  The boy drummed his heels against the mare’s sides, but his pony didn’t go any faster than a slow trot.

  Suddenly a rabbit shot out from under a bush, and the mare leaped sideways. The boy managed to cling on, but his helmet visor crashed down over his face. He pulled wildly on the reins, and his horse galloped straight toward Amy and Brightheart!

  “Look out!” Amy gasped.

  Brightheart jumped aside just in time, and the gray mare swerved the other way. This time the boy fell off, landing on the forest floor in a clatter of armor that sounded like someone dropping an armful of saucepans. His lance stabbed into the ground beside him and stayed there, quivering.

  Amy scrambled down from Brightheart’s back. The boy struggled to get up, weighed down by his armor, but Amy was too angry to help him. “Are you crazy?” she shouted. “You could have been really hurt—and so could we!”

  The boy managed to push his visor open. He lay on the ground, staring up at Amy.

  “You should learn to ride properly! And get a helmet that fits!”

  She was just running out of breath when she realized that Brightheart was tugging at her sleeve with his teeth.

  “Shhh! You can’t talk to him like that! That’s a royal crest on his helmet. This must be Prince Henry, the king’s son!”

  Chapter 4

  Amy stopped. She turned to look at Brightheart. “Why didn’t you tell me before I started shouting at him?”

  Brightheart opened his eyes wide as if to say she hadn’t given him much chance. Amy supposed he was right. She looked back at the boy, suddenly feeling worried. She had a nasty feeling that princes in the Middle Ages could order people to have their heads cut off!

  Luckily, Prince Henry didn’t look angry, just puzzled. “Um, why are you talking to your horse?” he said.

  Amy glanced at Brightheart, but he was staring at the branches above his head as if he’d never dream of doing anything as silly as talking.

  Amy thought for a moment. Brightheart had said that she could understand him because of the carousel magic—and that probably meant that everyone else just heard Brightheart whinnying or saw him flicking his ears and wrinkling his muzzle. She turned back to Prince Henry and shrugged. “It’s, um, a long story! I’m sorry that I was rude to you. I didn’t know who you were, and…” She trailed off, not knowing what to say to a prince.

  Brightheart nudged her from behind. “Curtsy!”

  Amy looked back at him, confused, and he rolled his eyes. “Curtsy! Now!”

  “Oh!” Amy gathered up her long skirt and made a rather clumsy curtsy. It was quite difficult in the heavy velvet dress. As she struggled back up, she noticed that Prince Henry didn’t look angry at her at all. Instead, he was smiling.

  “You weren’t really rude,” he said. “You’re right—I’m no good at riding. But people don’t usually tell me things like that.”

  Amy thought that sounded rather nice, but then she thought for a bit longer and decided that maybe it wasn’t. “Not even your friends?” she said.

  Henry looked glum. “I haven’t got any friends. I mean, people want to be friends with me, but I think most of them only like me because I’m a prince.” So he was a prince.

  Amy felt sorry for Henry. Being a prince didn’t sound like much fun. “What were you trying to do with that sack?” she asked.

  “I’m practicing jousting,” Henry explained. “I’ve got to win the joust today, you see. It’s really important!”

  “Why?” said Amy.

  “Because it’s a special joust. My father has organized a competition with the sons of knights and lords to give me a chance to take part. I really want him to be proud of me—but I’m just not very good.” Henry sighed. “It’s a lot to live up to being a prince, you know. And this girl I really like is presenting the prizes.” He kicked miserably at a stone. “She thinks I’m stupid. She’s beautiful and good at dancing, and I’m so clumsy. Last time we danced, I trod on her feet about a hundred times.”

  Amy knew exactly who Henry was talking about. Lady Isabella! But why would someone who seemed as nice as Henry want to be friends with a girl like that?

  “She just looks down her nose at me,” Henry went on with a sigh. “Her nose is really pretty, too,” he added sadly.

  Amy didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t liked Isabella at all. But she couldn’t tell Henry that without hurting his feelings.

  “Well, good luck in the tournament!” she said.

  Amy led Brightheart over to a nearby tree stump. She needed something to stand on to get back into the saddle. “Come on, Brightheart. Let’s go and find the person who needs our help!” she whispered.

  Brightheart jingled his bridle. “I think we should wait here,” he said. “We need to make sure Prince Henry doesn’t hurt himself!”

  Henry mounted his gray mare and rode gloomily over to his lance. He tugged it out of the ground and tucked it under his arm, nearly dropping it twice. Then he began to trot toward the sack with the knight painted on it.

  Amy held her breath. Would Henry hit the target this time?

  Thwack!

  Oh dear. If Henry had been aiming to hit that branch with the lance, it would have been a perfect strike.

  Henry turned the gray mare around and tried again. This time the lance ended up in a blackberry bush. A couple of blackberries hit the ground with a juicy plop.

  Amy had never done anything like jousting, but she was very good at sports, and she could see that Henry was never going to hit the target at this rate. “You’re not holding the lance tight enough!” she called. “Don’t let the point fly up when you get close to the target!”

  Henry gave her a long look, but he took his mare to the other side of the clearing, gripped the lance, and set off again.

  “That’s it!” Amy called after him. “Lean forward into it! Get your weight behind the lance—oh no!”

  Henry had leaned so far forward that he’d toppled right out of the saddle. His mare looked down at him with her ears pricked, as if she wondered what he was doing on the ground.

  With a clank of armor, Henry stood up and stomped over to Amy and Brightheart. “I’d have hit it that time if you hadn’t been shouting at me like that!”

  Amy snorted. “You would not! You were miles out.”

  “Right then! If you think it’s so easy, you do it!”

  Amy was dying to have a chance, but she wasn’t sure if it would be okay with Brightheart.

  “What do you think, Brightheart?” she whispered, trying not to move her mouth so Prince Henry wouldn’t think she was talking to herself.

  Brightheart tossed his head. “Of course, we should try! After all, we can’t be any more hopeless than poor old Prince Henry.”

  Amy stroked his neck. “Thanks, Brightheart!”

  She turned back to Henry. “Pass me the lance, please,” she said.

  Henry handed it to her. It was heavier than Amy expected, and she nearly dropped it. In a real joust she would have to carry a shield as well! But then in a real joust, she wouldn’t be riding sidesaddle, which made things even more difficult.

  She gathered up Brightheart’s reins in her left hand. He started trotting toward the target, and Amy lurched as the lance wobbled under her arm.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Brightheart snorted.

  Amy gripped the lance more tightly. “Yes! Come on!”

  Brightheart broke into a canter, and the sack came closer, closer….

  There was a loud ripping noise as the lance went straight through the middle of the target.

  “We did it!” Amy dropped the lance to give Brightheart a big hug.

  Prince Henry looked astonished. “Well done!” He came over and scuffed at the ground with the toe of his metal shoe. “You should be riding in this tournament, not me. I’m just going to fall off in front of Lady Isabella.”

  Amy was about to tell Henry that he needed a bit more practice, when she had a brilliant idea. “Yes! I mea
n, why don’t I?”

  Henry looked up.

  Amy beamed at him. “I can ride in the tournament instead of you!”

  Chapter 5

  It was a fantastic plan! Amy loved doing sporty things, and she was never going to get another chance to be in a real live tournament.

  Henry frowned. “Girls can’t joust,” he said.

  Amy pointed to the sack, which now had a big rip with lots of straw poking out. “They most certainly can! I’m just as good at sports as a boy! We’ve got a mixed soccer team at school, girls and boys, and I’m the top goal scorer this season.”

  Henry looked confused, and Amy realized that he wouldn’t know what soccer was.

  “That doesn’t matter,” she said quickly. “The thing is, I’m sure I could do it! With Brightheart’s help,” she added, leaning down to pat her pony. He snorted as if he knew exactly what she was saying—which, of course, he did.

  Henry stopped frowning and looked thoughtful instead. “If you wore my armor, no one would know you were a girl.”

  Amy gulped. Henry’s armor didn’t look very comfortable. “Can’t I just wear the helmet?” she said.

  “Of course not! You need the full suit of armor for jousting. Do you want to end up poked full of holes? Go and change out of that dress at once.” Henry pointed toward a clump of bushes. For the first time he sounded like a prince who was used to ordering people around.

  Amy decided she liked him better when he wasn’t being royal. “There’s no need to be like that!” she said. “If you want me to help, you ought to be more polite.”

  Henry went bright red. “Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s really nice of you to do this for me.”

  Amy smiled at him. “Never mind—go on, you get changed first.” As Henry went into the bushes to take off his armor, Amy had a worrying thought. She slipped off Brightheart’s back and put her arm around his neck to talk to him quietly.

  “Is this okay, Brightheart? I got so excited that I forgot the Magic Carousel had brought me here to help someone. Shall I tell Henry I’ve changed my mind?”

  Brightheart shook his head. “Don’t worry. I think Prince Henry is the person we are meant to be helping!”

  There was a sound from the bushes like a lot of tin cans falling over.

  “Are you all right, Henry?” Amy called.

  “Nearly ready!” Henry replied, sounding flustered. “You can come and put the armor on now.”

  Leaving Brightheart standing beside Henry’s gray mare, Amy pushed her way through the bushes.

  Henry’s armor was lying in a messy pile next to him. Amy put her hands over her eyes, in case Henry didn’t have anything else on.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “I’m wearing an undershirt.”

  She took her hands away and saw Henry standing in a baggy vest.

  “Are you sure I need to wear all this?” said Amy, looking down at the heap of armor.

  “Oh yes,” said Henry. “Otherwise you’d be in big trouble if someone stuck a sword into you!”

  Amy gulped. She was really excited about the joust, but it was a bit scary thinking about swords.

  “Go and take off your dress and put the leggings and this doublet on,” Henry said, a bit less bossily this time. He handed her a pair of scratchy-looking leggings and a weird padded jacket with bits of chain mail sewn on to it. “Then I’ll help you into the armor. You’ll never get it on by yourself. Even knights need their squires to help.” He looked at her to see if she knew what he was talking about. “You know, like knights in training? They help the knights put armor on, look after weapons, and things like that.”

  Amy nodded. She had learned about that at school. She never imagined she’d need a squire of her own!

  She went behind a different bush to take her dress off—which was more difficult than she’d expected. It didn’t have anything helpful like a zipper, just lots of laces! She could hear Henry muttering impatiently on the other side of the bush as she wriggled out of the dress and the underdress and the funny sleeves that tied on. It took a long time to get out of the clothes.

  Amy took a deep breath, then pulled on the leggings and heaved the chain mail jacket over her head. It was very heavy and scratchy, but if it was going to stop people poking holes in her, Amy didn’t mind. She went to the other side of the bush so that Henry could help her with the rest of the armor.

  “Right. We start at the feet and work up.” Henry held up his long-toed metal shoes. “Sabbatons first.”

  Putting on the armor was hard work. Amy could see that Henry was more used to having a servant help him than helping someone else. He got very muddled up with some bits, and for a while Amy had the breastplate on upside down, which felt very uncomfortable, but in the end she was dressed in a full suit of armor, just like a real knight!

  “There you go!” said Henry, straightening her helmet and stepping back. “How does it feel?”

  Amy tried to lift her arms. “Heavy. You really have to fight in all this?” Amy wasn’t sure she could even walk, let alone carry a lance. It felt as if she had most of her mom’s kitchen cupboard tied to her legs.

  Henry grinned. “Yup. Come on, I’ll give you a leg up. I’ve put Snowdrop’s saddle onto Brightheart.”

  Amy slowly clanked over to Brightheart.

  “You look just like Prince Henry!” he said, tossing his mane.

  “Good,” Amy puffed. She didn’t have enough breath to say anything else. Moving around in armor was seriously hard work!

  She stood on the tree stump, and Henry heaved her into the saddle with a lot of panting and complaining. Even though the armor wasn’t very comfy, it was nice to be back riding in a normal saddle again, with her legs on either side of Brightheart.

  “Good luck!” Henry said as he passed the lance and the shield up to Amy. “Remember not to take the helmet off! It’s got my blue crest on it, and the shield has my coat of arms—the blue lion—so everyone will think you’re me. I’ll set off for the arena now, too. I should make it just in time if I run. I’ll wave to you from the stands, Amy—you can do it! See you after the joust! And thanks!”

  Amy spent a few moments figuring out how to hold the lance and the shield and Brightheart’s reins. Then she lifted the lance to salute Henry, and Brightheart set off at a trot back through the trees. They were going to fight in the tournament!

  Chapter 6

  “Oof! You weigh a ton,” Brightheart muttered as they reached the road. “I can’t help that,” said Amy. “Henry said I had to wear the armor.”

  She could see the jousting arena just up ahead. Bursts of cheering rang out from the crowd, and there was a sound of hooves like thunder. They sounded like very big hooves, belonging to a very big horse.

  Suddenly there was a huge crashing noise. A knight had fallen off! Or rather, he’d been knocked off by his opponent’s lance. Amy started to feel a bit nervous.

  “Brightheart?”

  “Yes?” Was it her imagination, or did he sound nervous, too?

  “Have you done lots of jousting before?”

  Brightheart hesitated. “Not exactly…”

  “Um, have you done any at all?” Amy asked hopefully.

  “Well, I’ve watched quite a few tournaments. It can’t be that hard, can it?”

  But by now they had reached the jousting arena, and there was no time left for worrying.

  A steward dressed in a bright red coat rushed over to them. He had a long, thin trumpet tucked under his arm. “Where have you been, Prince Henry? You’re only just in time!”

  Amy opened her mouth to reply, then realized she would sound like a girl. She coughed and muttered, “Sorry!” in a gruff voice.

  Even though the visor made it hard to see clearly, there was something very familiar about the steward. He had the most twinkly eyes, and Amy felt sure she’d seen him somewhere before.

  Was it Mr. Barker from the fairground, dressed in a red steward’s coat? It did look like him, but what would he be doing
here? The steward swept her a low bow. As he straightened up, he gave Amy a wink, as if he knew she wasn’t Prince Henry.

  Amy was just about to tell the steward she wasn’t sure this was a good idea after all, when the huge wooden gates swung open. The jousting arena stretched ahead of them. There was a broad sweep of grass with a wooden barrier down the middle, surrounded by rickety-looking stands packed full of people.

  When the crowd caught sight of Amy and Brightheart, they started cheering. “Look! It’s Prince Henry!”

  Amy gulped. It was too late to back out now!

  The knight who had lost the last round cantered out of the arena. His armor was dented, and he miserably shook his head.

  The scarlet-clad steward lifted his trumpet to his lips and blew a fanfare. Brightheart jingled his bridle and snorted. The cheering was far too loud for Amy to talk to him. She patted him on the neck as gently as she could in her metal gloves, and they were off!

  They cantered past the royal enclosure where the king was sitting. He looked like an older version of Henry, and very grand. He wore a blue doublet embroidered with little golden lions and a dark blue velvet coat. His grand wooden chair had lions carved into it, and they were on the banners flying above his head. Amy realized that the lions must be his family symbol—and she was carrying it, too, on Henry’s shield! She spotted Lady Isabella sitting in the enclosure, looking bored and sulky.

  “That horse isn’t nearly as handsome as my Beauty,” Amy heard her say. “Henry’s got no chance. He’ll fall off as soon as he tries to gallop!” She laughed cruelly, and a thin-faced woman sitting beside her frowned. Amy guessed she was Isabella’s mother.

  “Isabella, be quiet! The king might hear you!”

  Lady Isabella just shrugged.