“Perhaps we’ll meet somebody if we go on walking.” suggested Sylvia.” Then we can ask where she lives.”
“Yes, let’s,” said Joe.” I’d like to meet a witch. We’ve just had one nice adventure and perhaps we’ll have another. Think of it, Sylvia! We are the only two kids in the world who have ever been in an ogre’s castle—I mean the only two who have ever got out of it afterwards. Won’t the others be jealous!”
“Yes, Joe, but I wish we could go back to them. It’s getting too beastly like one of those tales Norah told me.”
They walked on and on and on, over a plain which was dotted here and there with clumps of trees but which showed nothing else of interest, until they came to what looked like a road, and this they followed for a couple of hours. Then, suddenly, they saw coming across the plain a man on a horse. The strange thing was that both man and horse were shining all over in the bright morning sun, and they stopped and looked in wonder.
“It’s a knight! “Joe exclaimed.” Look, Sylvia! Look at his shining armour and his long lance! I’ll, bet it’s swift and keen.”(Miss Watkyns used to sing “I fear no foe” at the Saturday evening concerts.)
“I hope his heart is pure,” said Sylvia, rather anxiously. (Miss Ffolijambe used to recite “Sir Galahad”.)
Gorbo said nothing, but he tried his bowstring to see if it was all right.
The Knight-Errant
The man in armour pulled up his horse when he reached the road a. little way ahead and waited for them. Both children found him rather a disappointment when they came near for he did not seem quite up to the standard of knights in books. It is true that he had shining armour and the lance as long as a barge pole and so forth, but it seemed that his mail suit had not been made to measure. The breastplate was tied on to the back part with what looked like bootlaces, and they did not join well; bits of cloth showed at the sides. The armour on his legs was on the large size and rattled whenever he moved. His helmet also was much too big and it wobbled. The plume, though not a bad plume, should have been smaller to give a good effect. The horse was big and white and hairy, and had a thing like a spiked saucepan lid on its brow.
As they came near he raised the visor of his helmet and stared haughtily at them. From what they could see of his face he had peepy eyes, a long nose and rather puddingy cheeks.
“Who are ye?” he asked in an important way, “and wherefore come ye—” here his voice was cut off suddenly, for the visor had slipped down like a trap and he had to struggle with it.
He got it up at last: “As I was saying, wherefore come ye thus unattended on the King’s ways, two children and a dwarf?”
“Who are you calling a dwarf?” said Gorbo disagreeably.” Dwarf yourself!”
The knight gave him a long contemptuous stare in reply, a stare that might have lasted a long time if the visor had not come down again and put an end to it.
“Temper!” said the knight sharply when he had got his visor open.” But we will let it pass. Tell me, have you any wrongs to redress? Sir Percival am I, sworn to succour damsels, to slay giants, wasters, caitiffs and perishers, to rescue—”
“As I was saying,” he went on lifting his visor again and propping it up with one hand, “I am sworn’ to rescue the oppressed, to right wrongs, and to—well, to generally make things happy all round.”
“That’s very nice of you,” said Gorbo.” Then perhaps you’ll kindly tell us the way to the witch—”
“Which witch? “interrupted Sir Percival.
“Mother Meldrum. If you’ll kindly—”
“Ay, she is known as a parlous witch. She lives in the dark woods where fly the large black bats, all alone with her large black cats, and she gathers herbs o’ moonlight nights and brews foul potions to harm honest folk. Which means that I am not going there with you.”
“Who asked you to? “said Gorbo.” I only want to know the way there.”
“Then in that case you had better travel with me, for I am going within a mile or so of the dark woods. And if anybody should try to oppress you on the way, why, I shall be there to defend you.”
“That will be jolly,” said Gorbo.” Many thanks. But what about these little ones? Can’t you give them a lift one in front and one behind? “
“H’m!” The knight thought over this for a time.” I’d like to oblige, of course—especially as lam sworn to do good deeds—but wouldn’t that make me look rather ridiculous? “
“Not a bit,” said Gorbo.” As a matter of fact you’d look rather sweet. Come Sylvia, I’ll lift you up.”
Before Sir Percival could make any further objection he found that Sylvia had been hoisted up and placed in front of him. The saddle was a roomy one and well padded, so it made quite a comfortable seat for hen
“Catch hold of his belt,” said Gorbo.” Then you’ll be quite safe. Now then, Joe.”
Joe, as a circus-trained boy should, took a run and a flying leap on to the horse’s crupper, where he sat at his ease.
“I say,” said Sir Percival peevishly, “aren’t you rather taking liberties with me? “
“I beg your pardon? “replied Gorbo, who was busy with Sylvia, making a comfortable pair of stirrups for her out of some odd bits of straps on the saddle.
“I said, ‘Aren’t you rather taking liberties with me?’”
“No, not a bit. Are you quite comfortable, Sylvia? “
“Yes, it’s lovely,” replied Sylvia.
“And you, Joe? “
“I’m fine. This is a real adventure! “
“I hope this is not incommoding you at all,” said Gorbo politely, struck with a sudden idea.
“Oh, no,” replied Sir Percival with bitter irony. He couldn’t hold-his lance properly and he had to reach right round Sylvia to handle the reins.” Who would be incommoded by a little thing like this?” Then his visor fell down again and he roared angrily, though in a muffled way. But Sylvia’s handy little fingers soon propped it open again, and she asked Gorbo to find a little bit of stick and sharpen it with his knife. Then she deftly wedged the stick between the visor and the helmet.
“There,” she said, patting his steel-cased cheek, “now it will keep up nicely. But what you really need is some large hooks and eyes.” She had seen, with the unerring instinct of childhood, that not only was Sir Percival’s heart pure but that his head was rather soft.
His perhaps excusable irritation was soothed by this attention, and he smiled at her.
“If any enemies come,” she explained, “all you have to do is to pullout this bit of stick and there you are, ready for battle.”
Sir Percival was aroused at the mention of battle.” If any caitiffs should oppress you, little golden-haired maid,” he said proudly, “I will show you how great a man with his hands is Sir Percival. Evil-doers shake at the mention of my name.”
“I don’t believe you,” said Sylvia, giggling. The child was actually trying on with this belted knight the same ways that had tempted Joe to such flagrant acts of folly and disobedience, and to which’ their present position might be directly traced. Minx.
“I suppose you can’t find room for this little dog?” said Gorbo, holding up Tiger.
“No,” replied Sir Percival with stern decision.” I draw the line at little dogs.” He then shook the reins and the big white horse started off at a quick comfortable walk.
Sir Percival’s Job
Sir Percival seemed to have settled down to inconvenience and (I must own) grotesque appearance due to his having children fore and aft of him on the saddle, and he was quite ready to talk about himself. He was out looking for adventures because he had become enamored of a young lady, and she had told him that if he would go forth as a knight-errant for one year and conquer a reasonable number of knights and caitiffs and slay some dragons and the like, she would have something to say
to him, but she did not say what. So far he had not conquered anybody because he hadn’t met anybody who would fight, and as for dragons he really believed they had all left the country. One man, a miller, had told him where there was a dragon, but it turned out that the ribald fellow meant his. own wife, who used to go for him with ferocity, and probably with plenty of reason. But he told them he had now great hopes, for he was on his way to a castle he had heard about as being likely—though he didn’t know whose it was—for in a castle there were always knights, and knights were always spoiling for a fight. This was very good news to Gorbo because he worked it out that in a castle there was always something to eat, and the children were delighted when he told them this, for the sun was now getting high and they had had nothing to eat since last night’s turnips.
In time they came to nice wooded country, which was a pleasant change from the rather bare plain. Then they caught sight of battlemented towers peeping above the tree-tops, and a little later they halted by the outer wall of a small cosy castle, all alone by itself. There seemed to be nobody about, inside ·or outside, and everything was very peaceful and sunny and still. And hanging on the outer gate was a slug-horn like the one outside the Dark Tower that Childe Roland came to.
The Mysterious Castle
“I am going to wind this horn,” said Sir Percival to Gorbo (he meant, to blow it).” And if you will oblige me by pretending to be my squire, I shall think it very nice of you.”
“Yes, I’ll be your squire,” replied Gorbo, quite interested. He lifted Sylvia down to get her out of the way in case battle should take place suddenly.” I’d like to—Jump down, Joe—I’ll tell them you’ll take on any six of them and—”
“Not so brisk, please,” said the knight.” What I want you to do is to say that I am the famed Sir Percival and so on and so forth. Give them the idea that I am something of a terror. Don’t know what fear is, and that sort of thing. You see I don’t want to injure anybody if it can be avoided, and if any knight prefers to give in without fighting, why, let him do so by all means and save needless bloodshed. Do you get the idea? “
“Yes, I think so. Hot stuff, as it were. Now blow hard.”
Sir Percival blew at the small end of the slug-horn and a long melancholy note came out of the other end. Then there was silence for a time; but at length they heard the sound of slow shuffling footsteps. coming to the gate.
“Nothing today, thank you kindly,” said a weak and quavering voice.
“Open, varlet! “cried Sir Percival angrily.” What discourtesy is this to keep a champion waiting at your gate? Open, I say, lest I believe that the knights of this castle fear to meet me.”
“Save you, good sir! “replied the quavering voice, “here are no knights, none at all, nor indeed anybody but me and my old dame Margery who look after the castle while the family are away visiting cousins, though we should be glad if they had taken us too for a change of air would do us both good who have been in this same castle until we are sick and tired of the shape of it, to say nothing of the damp which has settled in old. Margery’s bones so that she goes ever doubled up and—”
“Look here,” interrupted Gorbo, putting his hands to his mouth and shouting through the keyhole, “this is the valiant Sir Percival, who has slain so many knights that he has forgotten how many, to say nothing of dragons and such-like. And I am his valiant squire, Gorbo, who is famed for a big appetite, and we have with us two children and a little dog who are also hungry, and the question is whether you are going to be a sport and give us something to eat or whether you are simply going to drive us into smashing up this castle.”
“Nay, be not rash, good squire,” replied the voice.” I’ll open the gate and let you in, for my master hath bidden me give food and drink to wayfarers that need it and especially to those who are liable to damage his stronghold if it be denied them.”
The door opened, and to their astonishment there appeared before them, not a doddering old henchman, but a pert young man dressed in the brilliant and fantastic costume of a jester, with one leg of his tights red and the other yellow, and who seemed, from his immoderate laughter, to the having the time of his life.
“Ha, ha!” he cried, joyously, leaping out and slapping Sir Percival on the nose with a bladder tied to the end of a stick.” Did I not befool thee, thou pumpkin face? Even now your jaw is dropped and your eyes goggle with wonder and you have a general resemblance (saving your presence) to a parboiled codfish. Laugh, thou jingling hundredweight of ill-fitting harness”—hitting him again—“and grant this to be a pleasing jest.”
Sir Percival’s Annoyance
Sir Percival recovered from his astonishment and prepared to do what seemed the only fitting thing to in a case like this. He heaved tip his lance to smite this gay young man to the earth.
“For shame!” The young man had dexterously leapt out of the way and crouched down with Sylvia and Joe caught to his bosom.” Would you strike a child? “
“Malapert insect!” said Sir Percival.” Unhand those young ones that I may cudgel you.”
“Listen to reason! “bellowed the other, now groveling on the earth.” This castle is deserted, and I alone know where the larder is. Without my help you will go away an hungered! “
“There is something in that,” said Sir Percival, lowering his lance.
“There is a whole lot in it,” shouted Gorbo.” Don’t hit the poor man! “
The jester bounded up like a tennis ball and flew at Gorbo, enfolding him in his arms.” By this kiss” (kissing him daintily on the top of his head) “I swear eternal friendship.”
“Lead on, thou nimble loon,” said Sir Percival.” I pardon you if you will take us to the larder without delay.”
The jester turned swiftly to the children.” You see yonder door,” he said, pointing to a small open door in the main building of the castle, “I’ll give you a start of half-way and race you there. Are you ready? Go!”
Sylvia and, Joe went off at top speed, and when they were half-way the jester gave a shrill whoop and flew after them, catching up with them just as they reached the door.
The Castle Kitchen
“This is glorious!” cried the jester, taking a hand of each and leading them into a large comfortable kitchen. Then he turned and looked anxiously at the top of the open door.” No, there’s no time to make a booby-trap. Come along and put on aprons.”
Sylvia and Joe, both highly delighted with these joyous happenings, were soon dressed in little aprons and caps made out of napkins and busily helping their new friend. He sliced up a ham and got two large frying pans going, while they put stools round a big table in the middle of the floor and laid plates and mugs and so on.
“Do you think forty eggs will be enough?” asked the young man.
“I think it will be almost more than enough,” replied Sylvia, doing a quick sum in her head.” It will be eight each.”
“I’ll make it fifty then,” said the strange being, breaking them thick and fast into the frying pans.
A heavy clanging sound without indicated that Sir Percival was coming; he and Gorbo, had been attending to the horse, supplying it with hay and so forth. As the knight entered the door, the jester turned with an egg poised ready to throw at his head. But he hesitated; then broke it into the pan instead.” I dare not,” he said to Joe.” What a pity! “
Gorbo paused as he care in and stood sniffing the delicious smell. He went across to the jester.” Bend low towards me,” he said. And when the other had done so Gorbo kissed him on the top of his head.” I also swear a friendship. What are you going to give us to drink.”
“I have here,” replied the other, making a flying leap over the table to a rough sideboard, “both milk for these little ones and beer for us men. Kindly pledge me,” he added, filling up two mugs.
While these two sportsmen were clinking their mugs and gossi
ping, Sylvia, standing on a stool by the stove, was dripping hot butter on the eggs to give them a choice flavour, and Joe was on another stool pronging out the slices of ham and laying them on a hot dish. They were very happy, because this was a really superior adventure, with food and cheerful things taking place. The castle, too, judging from the kitchen, was a self-respecting place, clean and well kept, and a nice change from the beast of a tower they had spent the night in.
Breakfast
Sir Percival was given a stool at one of the tables and Sylvia was put at the other—to serve the food, as she was the only lady present. The ham and eggs were perfect, and they had in addition buttered toast and a pot of damson preserve which the jester said they really must taste as he had made it himself. Tiger had a large plateful of everything and was busily engaged in putting his shape as it should be. (It may be noticed that almost all the news I have to give of this little dog is of the rotundity or otherwise of his stomach.)
The Marvellous Land of Snergs Page 8