‘Never mind that,’ said Lady Alice. ‘A bath and a new set of clothes – we’ll soon smarten him up. Crispin, how would you like to accompany your master on an exciting adventure?’
‘Very much, my lady,’ answered Crispin.
‘Humph!’ grunted Sir Bigwart. ‘Come here, boy. What do you know about being a squire?’
‘I know how to do what I’m told,’ answered Crispin.
‘Quite right,’ said Sir Bigwart. ‘But the life of a knight can be hard. There will be daring and danger and whatnot. Are you steadfast and brave?’
‘I’m not frightened of rats,’ replied Crispin.
‘Well, it’s a start, I suppose,’ grunted Sir Bigwart. ‘What about ogres?’
‘I think I might be a little scared if I met an ogre,’ said Crispin truthfully. ‘Especially if he was tall as a mountain and wanted to eat me. But I wouldn’t run away.’
‘Really? You wouldn’t?’
‘No, I’d ask him if he liked honey cakes,’ said Crispin. ‘My honey cakes are the best in the kingdom.’
Sir Bigwart doubted that this would cut much ice with an ogre. Generally ogres are more interested in biting off your head or one of your legs – they have little time for honey cakes. All the same, he thought, it couldn’t hurt to have a squire who knew something about cooking. They had a long journey ahead of them and a knight couldn’t live on fresh air.
Thus it was that the matter was settled and Crispin became Sir Bigwart’s new squire. He went off to hunt for his master’s rusty armour. But first he had to do something that would test his courage to the limit – he had to take a bath.
Chapter 4
The Runaway Princess
King Eggnog knocked softly on his daughter’s bedroom door.
‘Marigold, my sweet? Are you there?’
‘GO AWAY!’ yelled the Princess, who didn’t sound in a very good mood.
‘Sugarplum! It’s me, Daddy. Open the door.’
‘I’m not speaking to you!’ There was a brief silence. ‘Well, I am only speaking to you to tell you that I’m not speaking to you.’
‘It’s time to go. Everyone’s waiting. Don’t you want to come and wave them off?’ asked the King.
There was no answer. The Princess wasn’t speaking to him. This happened quite a lot. Sometimes she didn’t speak to him for a whole minute. King Eggnog tried again.
‘Poppet? Surely you’re not still cross about last night?’
The door flew open and Marigold stood there with a silver hairbrush. The King stepped back – in the Princess’s hand a hairbrush was a deadly weapon.
‘You really expect me to agree to this?’ she stormed.
‘I only want you to come downstairs.’
‘I mean to marrying this … this Bigwig nitwit.’
‘Oh. Sir Bigwart.’
‘I’ve seen him! He’s old and ugly and he has a horrible beard. And he’s vain and boastful and fat and ugly.’
‘He can’t be ugly twice,’ the King pointed out.
‘He’s not even a prince, he’s a common knight!’ The Princess was brushing her golden hair so violently that the King thought she might set it on fire.
‘But, sugarplum,’ he said, ‘you didn’t like any of the princes you met. You pushed Prince Dudley down the stairs.’
‘He tried to kiss my hand,’ said Marigold.
‘This will be different,’ said the King. ‘This way you’ll be marrying a brave and handsome knight. Brave anyway. Someone who has killed an ogre to prove his worth. Two ogres actually.’
The Princess stamped her foot. It was only a dainty foot but when she stamped it people jumped and servants ran for cover. ‘I’ve told you,’ she said. ‘I am not marrying this Bogwart. Not if he brings back a dragon with a ring through its nose.’
King Eggnog looked alarmed. He hoped Sir Bigwart wouldn’t be bringing home any dragons.
‘The thing is, my sweet, it’s a matter of honour. I’ve given my word that you’ll marry whoever completes the quest. And a king’s word is his, you know … his word. You’ll see – it will all work out for the best. Every princess wants to get married and live happily ever after.’
‘I do not,’ said Marigold. ‘And if you try to make me, I shall … I shall run away!’
‘And where would you run to, my buttercup?’ chuckled the King. ‘Why don’t you go and put on your pretty blue gown and come downstairs with me? There’s a gallant knight outside who’s very –’
THUD! The Princess had slammed the door. King Eggnog shook his head and went downstairs.
Left alone, Princess Marigold flopped down in the window seat and looked out over the courtyard. It seemed as if half the village had gathered to cheer Sir Bigwart on his way. She could see him riding his horse through the crowd, waving his sword as if he’d already won a great battle. He certainly wasn’t a princess’s dream. The plume of his helmet drooped like a limp daffodil and his armour was so rusty it looked like it might fall apart. Beside him his squire trudged along, loaded down with hams, honey cakes and other essentials for a knight going on a dangerous journey.
The crowd cheered as Sir Bigwart turned his horse towards the gates. How wonderful, thought Marigold, to be setting off on an adventure, not knowing what tomorrow would bring! Marigold always knew what tomorrow would bring. Her father was always saying she should behave more like a princess. In practice this meant lolling around reading poetry or wandering the palace gardens or listening to dull princes who were as vain as peacocks. The sad truth was the Princess didn’t have any friends of her own age and she’d certainly never had anything like an adventure.
She suddenly noticed how quiet the palace had become. It sounded as if everyone had gone to the gates to wave Sir Bigwart off. Pushing open the door, she saw there was no guard at the top of the stairs. A daring idea came to her.
* * *
Once they were out of sight of the palace walls, Sir Bigwart pulled on his reins. All that waving to admirers had made him peckish. He announced that they would stop for a rest and a morsel to eat. Crispin looked surprised.
‘But my lord,’ he said, ‘we haven’t come half a mile. Shouldn’t we push on through the forest?’
His master’s reply was drowned out by a loud drumming of hoofs. Thundering towards them at high speed was a white horse with a knight seated on its back. Actually, ‘seated’ wasn’t really the word – the knight looked like he was clinging on for dear life. His arms were wrapped round the horse’s neck while the rest of him was slipping out of the saddle.
‘Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelp!’ he screamed, galloping past at tremendous speed. Sir Bigwart wiped a speck of mud from his eye.
‘What did he say?’
‘I think he said: “Heeeeeeeeeeeeeelp!” sire,’ replied Crispin.
‘That’s what I thought,’ said Sir Bigwart. A startled yell reached them. The white horse had suddenly pulled up, catapulting its rider over its head. Luckily the knight landed in something soft – a large muddy puddle.
Crispin ran over to help. The horse had galloped off, leaving the knight sitting in the puddle having a tantrum. He was wearing a red velvet robe. Below this peeped white petticoats and a pair of dainty silver slippers When he pulled off his helmet, out tumbled a long coil of golden hair. Crispin thought he was looking at an angel.
‘Well, don’t just stand there, stupid! Help me up!’ stormed Princess Marigold.
Crispin flushed a deep pink. Ever since last summer, when he’d caught sight of the Princess wandering in the palace gardens, he had fallen hopelessly in love. Normally it is pointless for a kitchen boy to love a princess – princesses sleep in palaces while kitchen boys sleep with the dogs. But Crispin believed that if he could only meet his golden angel and speak to her something magical would happen. So when Princess Marigold held out a muddy hand to him it was the moment he’d dreamed of a thousand times. That was why he went very pink and mumbled something like ‘Oh, um, sorry …’ and then bowed so low he almost fell o
ver. Princess Marigold rolled her eyes and squelched past him, muttering to herself.
‘Look at me! I’m filthy!’
‘You are, um, well, a bit muddy,’ said Crispin, wishing he could think of something witty and clever to say.
‘Well, don’t stand there mumbling, do something! Fetch me some clean clothes!’
Crispin looked around as if he thought a silk dress might be growing on one of the nearby trees. Sir Bigwart arrived on Hotspur and climbed down off his horse.
‘Princess Marigold!’ he exclaimed.
‘Oh. You’re Sir Bigwit.’
‘Wart.’
‘What?’
‘No, Wart. Sir Bigwart. I am Sir Bigwart.’
‘You don’t have to keep repeating it – I’m not deaf,’ said the Princess.
‘How may I be of service?’ asked the knight, making a stiff bow, which was the best he could manage in a rusty suit of armour. ‘Are you lost? Shall I have my squire escort you back to the palace?’
‘Lost?’ snorted the Princess. ‘Of course I’m not lost. I’ve run away from home. I’d have thought even an idiot could see that.’
‘Oh,’ said Sir Bigwart. It explained why the Princess was dressed in men’s clothes. ‘And where were you running to?’ he asked.
‘Are you always this slow?’ she snapped, rolling her eyes. ‘I’m coming with you!’
‘With me?’
‘Yes! You’ve no idea how boring it is being a princess – everyone telling you what to do all the time. That’s why I decided it’s high time I had an adventure.’
Sir Bigwart was looking flustered. He wasn’t used to dealing with runaway princesses.
‘I am sorry, Highness,’ he said, ‘but it’s out of the question. We can’t possibly take you along.’
The Princess’s eyes flashed dangerously. Her cheeks had turned red – a sure sign that she was about to explode.
‘You dare to say “No” to me?’
‘Your Highness,’ sighed Sir Bigwart, ‘it’s not that I don’t want your company – nothing would give me greater pleasure, but a quest is no place for a princess. There may be daring and danger ahead of us. Wolves in the forest and hobgoblins in the trees.’
‘And ogres – don’t forget the ogres,’ added Crispin.
The Princess stamped her foot, splattering them all with mud. ‘If you don’t take me with you, I shall scream,’ she warned.
Sir Bigwart laughed softly. ‘Do as you like, Highness. My advice is to go back to the palace and change out of those wet clothes before you catch a chill.’
He swung himself back into the saddle and plodded off on Hotspur. Crispin followed behind, glancing back over his shoulder at the furious princess. They hadn’t gone twenty paces when an ear-splitting scream stopped them in their tracks.
‘HEEEELP! THIEVES! MURDERERS!’
When Princess Marigold screamed, rabbits ran for cover, crows flew startled from the treetops and Hotspur reared up, almost throwing his master from the saddle. Sir Bigwart pulled on the reins and turned back. If anyone heard the Princess shrieking like that, they were all in trouble. The King would probably chop off their heads.
‘HEEEEELLP!’
‘All right! Stop, stop!’ pleaded Sir Bigwart.
The Princess stopped in mid-scream and smiled at them sweetly. ‘Then I can come?’
‘Yes, yes,’ sighed Sir Bigwart. ‘As long as you promise never to do that again.’
The Princess reached up a hand. ‘Good. Then help me up.’
‘What?’
‘I’m a princess. You don’t expect me to walk? Since my horse has run off I’ll have to ride behind you. Boy, kneel down.’
Poor Crispin knelt down on all fours in the mud while the Princess used him as a mounting block to climb up on to Hotspur’s back. Sir Bigwart shook his head. They hadn’t got half a mile from home and already this quest was turning into a disaster. The last thing he needed was to babysit a spoilt princess.
Trotting along beside them, Crispin hummed a tune to himself. In his view, life could hardly get much better. Yesterday he was a humble kitchen boy dressed in rags. Today he was a squire setting off in search of adventure and the most beautiful princess in the world had actually spoken to him (even if it was to call him ‘stupid’). Who knows? thought Crispin. In a few days’ time I might even be able to speak to her without blushing.
Chapter 5
Whispering Wood
Night was falling as the three of them journeyed on through Whispering Wood. Princess Marigold shivered with cold. She wasn’t used to being out in the woods after dark. Crispin kept a tight hold on Hotspur’s bridle in case he got left behind. They had been travelling all day and now they were hungry, tired and aching.
‘Are we almost there?’ asked Marigold.
‘Not far now,’ replied Sir Bigwart.
‘You said that an hour ago. Are you sure you know where we are?’
Sir Bigwart knew exactly where they were. They were lost. It seemed to him they had been travelling through the same part of the forest all day. In the darkness, the trees all looked much the same, apart from the ones that looked like witches and hobgoblins. The wind stirred the branches above his head and the brave knight clutched at his sword.
‘You’re not scared, are you?’ asked Princess Marigold.
‘Scared? Me?’ scoffed Sir Bigwart. ‘I am a knight of Eggnog!’
‘Only, your armour keeps squeaking.’
‘It does that when it’s cold,’ said Sir Bigwart. ‘Anyway, it’s not the first time I’ve been lost in a forest.’
‘I thought you said we weren’t lost,’ frowned the Princess.
‘We’re not. We’re just not where I thought we were.’
‘Sire,’ interrupted Crispin, ‘I may be wrong but haven’t we crossed this stream before?’
Sir Bigwart didn’t know. Streams were like trees – they all looked the same in the dark. What he needed was a big broad path, preferably with a large arrow pointing ahead saying ‘This Way out of the Forest’. He was beginning to regret coming on this quest. Whatever possessed him to think he could fight a pair of ogres? All day long Marigold had done nothing but grumble. Her clothes were wet through, her slippers were muddy and her feet were cold. She seemed to believe there was a palace around every corner where you could find a bed for the night and servants to run you a warm bath. If he ever got out of this forest, he vowed he would never boast about anything again.
Crispin pulled on Hotspur’s bridle and stopped to sniff the air.
‘Sire, I can smell something.’
‘It’s not my fault,’ replied Sir Bigwart. ‘Armour makes me sweat.’
‘No, not that. I think I can smell woodsmoke.’
Sir Bigwart sniffed. ‘Well, what of it?’
‘Sire,’ said Crispin, ‘if there is smoke then it’s coming from a fire. And if there’s a fire then perhaps there’s a house! And if there’s a house –’
‘Yes, yes, I get the point,’ said Sir Bigwart.
Crispin was right. Following the stream, they eventually came to a small stone cottage beside a wooden bridge. Smoke curled from the chimney and the windows glowed with warm light. Crispin had never seen a more welcoming sight in all his life.
Sir Bigwart rapped on the door but it creaked open by itself. Inside, the cottage was cramped, dark and untidy. An ancient black pot bubbled over a fire, filling the room with the smell of woodsmoke. Crispin peered inside but could see nothing but clouds of smoke that rose up the chimney.
In every corner there were stacks of dusty leather-bound books rising almost as high as the beams of the roof. Books crammed the shelves on the walls and lay open on the table. Crispin picked up the top book and read the title: Talking to Toads. Underneath he found 101 Easy Curses and The Wizard Book of Spells (Volume 3 ½). He had an uneasy sense they were being watched. Looking up, he saw a snowy owl staring down on him from the rafters with large amber eyes.
‘Sire,’ he whispered, ‘I�
�m not sure this is safe. There’s something odd about this place.’
‘What’s odd about it?’ asked Sir Bigwart. ‘It’s warm and dry and out of the wind. What could be better?’ He pushed a pile of books on to the floor and flopped down in a chair with a weary sigh. Crispin knelt at his feet and began the struggle to pull off his rusty armour.
Princess Marigold cleared her throat loudly. ‘And who is going to show me to my room?’
Crispin looked around. She seemed to be under the impression that there was a secret staircase leading to the upper rooms.
‘Um, I think this is the only room there is, Highness,’ said Crispin.
‘Don’t be ridiculous! There must be bedrooms. Where am I supposed to sleep?’
‘Try the floor,’ yawned Sir Bigwart, who had already bagged the only armchair for himself.
Princess Marigold looked at the floor. It was bare and filthy. There were probably spiders lurking in the corners. She shivered.
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Boy, bring the sheets and pillows and make up the bed.’
Crispin looked at Sir Bigwart, who just rolled his eyes.
‘Which sheets and pillows?’ asked Crispin.
‘The ones you brought with you, of course!’
At a loss, Crispin took off his own cloak and folded it several times before handing it to Marigold.
‘What is this?’
‘My cloak, Highness. You can use it as a blanket to keep you warm.’
Marigold wrinkled her nose as if she might catch something nasty. She made a feeble attempt at moving piles of dusty books to clear a space.
‘Well?’ she said, looking at them pointedly.
‘What now?’ groaned Sir Bigwart.
‘You may leave me while I get ready for bed.’
Outside it had started to rain. Crispin and his master shivered while they waited for permission to go back in.
‘Princesses!’ snorted Sir Bigwart. ‘They’re nothing but trouble.’
‘Are they?’ asked Crispin. ‘I suppose you’ve met quite a few?’
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