‘Get off me, Elaine!’ said Humphrey. ‘Let go, you insane woman! It’s fine. I’m not going to kill him.’
Elaine let go, falling painfully to her knees. Humphrey sprang forward, rolled the boy onto his back, straddled him with a knee on each arm, and held his sword to his neck, so tightly that he broke the pale skin. The boy moaned with fear.
‘I thought you said you weren’t going to kill him!’ Elaine was outraged.
‘Well, I’m certainly not going to let him kill me,’ said Humphrey, but he relaxed the sword slightly. A trickle of blood ran down the boy’s throat. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
‘My name’s Mar – Marcus,’ the boy replied. He had his eyes open, finally.
‘What the hell were you doing, Marcus?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied the boy.
Conrad snorted.
‘I don’t!’ Marcus insisted, an indignant tone entering his voice. ‘It wasn’t me, it was the sword! It just jumped into my hand and attacked for no reason.’ He glowered at the sword, which was lying peacefully on the grass as if butter wouldn’t melt in its sheath. ‘I thought you were supposed to be protecting me!’ he snapped at it.
Humphrey glanced at the sword, which did not react to Marcus’s admonition. ‘Conrad,’ he said, ‘secure the sword.’
Conrad dismounted from Jemima and marched over to the sword, irritated by how frightened he felt of it and determined not to let it show. He put one of his heavy boots down on top of the blade. He tried not to imagine the sword rearing up and slicing his foot in half.
‘Where did you get that elephant?’ Marcus asked him.
‘You know what it is?’ said Elaine, surprised.
‘The elephant is none of your fucking business,’ Conrad growled at Marcus.
‘Forget about the elephant. Where did you get that sword?’ Humphrey asked.
‘The sword is none of your …’ Marcus began – but thought better of it as Humphrey’s blade pressed against his throat again. ‘It’s a magic sword,’ he said instead. ‘The Lady of the Pond – of the Lake – gave it to me.’
‘If it’s a magic sword, what’s its name?’ said Humphrey.
‘Its name?’
‘Yes, all magic swords have a name.’
There was a brief pause. Then Marcus offered, ‘Leila.’
‘Leila?’ said Humphrey.
‘Leila’s a name, isn’t it?’ said Marcus.
‘Magic swords aren’t called things like Leila,’ said Conrad. ‘They have names like Excalibur.’
‘This one’s called Leila,’ said Marcus.
‘Leila’s a girl’s name,’ said Conrad.
‘So?’ said Marcus.
‘Swords are male.’
‘Why?’ said Marcus.
‘Why d’you think?’ said Conrad.
Marcus shook his head in confusion.
‘Look at it,’ said Conrad.
Marcus looked at the sword for a moment, then blushed.
‘And you claim that it’s Leila who attacked me, not you,’ said Humphrey.
Conrad rolled his eyes at Humphrey’s use of the sword’s supposed name.
‘Yes!’ said Marcus. ‘I was just riding through the woods when she jumped out of her scabbard and into my hand. She hit Silver, my horse – if the little giant thinks Silver an acceptable name for a horse?’
Everyone looked at Conrad. He nodded irritably.
‘Good,’ said Marcus. He turned back to Humphrey. ‘And then when Silver galloped towards you, Leila just started attacking you, I don’t know why.’
‘He was probably pissed off because you gave him a girl’s name and now he’s trying to get you killed,’ said Conrad.
‘It’s a black sword,’ noted Elaine.
‘So what?’ said Marcus.
‘You’ve got quite an attitude for someone in your position,’ said Humphrey, though he couldn’t help but admire the boy’s pluck.
‘Do you think it’s a coincidence that it’s black?’ Elaine said to Humphrey.
‘Let’s find out,’ said Humphrey. ‘Marcus, where were you on Saturday, a fortnight ago?’
Marcus blanched. ‘I … I can’t tell you,’ he said.
‘You think you’re in a position to deny me?’ said Humphrey. He slid the edge of his sword along Marcus’s gullet, but the boy refused to speak. Humphrey couldn’t push his sword any harder without cutting Marcus’s throat, which would be counterproductive, so instead he pressed his knees heavily into the boy’s skinny biceps.
‘Very well!’ cried Marcus. ‘I was at the Queen’s wedding! Queen Martha’s wedding, in Puddock!’
‘Oh right. You were at the Queen’s wedding,’ said Conrad. ‘As guest of honour, I’m sure.’
‘What makes you think we’ll believe that?’ said Humphrey.
‘I work – worked there. At the castle. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I ran away. I don’t want them to find me. I stole some money. And the horse. And … and the sword. It belongs to the Queen. I lied before.’
‘So he isn’t called Leila,’ said Conrad.
‘Yes she is,’ insisted Marcus. ‘Queen Martha called her Leila.’
‘Then Queen Martha is an idiot.’
‘She is not!’
‘Enough,’ said Humphrey. ‘Marcus, can you prove that you worked at the castle?’
‘I know everything about Queen Martha. I was one of her pages. Ask me anything.’
‘What’s her favourite colour?’ said Conrad.
Marcus hesitated, almost as if he had fallen afoul of this question before. ‘Blue,’ he said.
‘That doesn’t count. Everyone’s favourite colour is blue,’ said Conrad.
‘Describe her husband,’ said Humphrey.
‘Her husband? Why do you want to know about him?’
‘You were at the wedding, weren’t you?’
‘Fine. His name’s Edwin, he’s next in line to the throne of Tuft. He’s tall. Blond hair. Dark eyes. Sort of handsome, I suppose, until you see his teeth.’
‘What’s wrong with his teeth?’ said Elaine.
‘They’re gigantic.’ Marcus shuddered. ‘And he’s stupid, and a bully and a braggart. You know he’s calling himself King of Puddock now, when he’s only the Prince Consort? He’s the kind of man who lies about his jousting record.’
‘I don’t know if you’re the Queen’s page or not, but you’ve definitely met Edwin,’ said Humphrey. ‘Do you own any black armour?’
‘What? No, of course not. I don’t own any armour. Even these clothes are stolen. If I had armour, I’d be wearing it. Why aren’t you wearing armour, if you’re a knight?’
‘How do you know I’m a knight?’
‘The little giant said so.’
‘Would you stop calling me the little giant?’ said Conrad, and was annoyed to see Humphrey stifle a laugh.
‘The Knight was riding a black horse,’ Elaine said. ‘This boy’s horse is grey.’
‘People can change horses,’ said Humphrey.
‘I think you should kill him,’ said Conrad.
‘No!’ yelped Marcus, his voice higher-pitched than ever.
‘Please don’t,’ said Elaine, putting her hand on Humphrey’s arm.
‘I’m sorry but I’ve got to admit Conrad has a point,’ Humphrey said to Marcus. ‘You burst out of the woods and tried to take my head. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t take yours.’
‘We’ve already established that it was the sword to blame, not me,’ said Marcus.
‘You’ll forgive me if I don’t find that entirely persuasive.’ Humphrey’s blade pressed against Marcus’s throat once again.
Marcus lay silently for several moments, his breath coming fast, the blood draining from his already pale face.
‘Well?’ said Humphrey.
‘I’m thinking,’ said Marcus in a strangled tone. ‘Surely you can spare me a few seconds to try to save my life.’
Humphrey nodded. Conrad let out a grunt of exas
peration.
‘I can help you find the Queen,’ Marcus said at last.
‘We’re not looking for the Queen,’ said Elaine. But Humphrey raised his eyebrows with an expression of interest.
‘You’re a knight, aren’t you?’ said Marcus, appealing directly to him. ‘I thought all the knights were looking for the Queen. I met one in a tavern only a few days ago who said he had good information that she was nearby.’
‘Sir Dorian Pendoggett?’ said Humphrey.
‘No. He was called, um … Sir Gregory? Sir Gordon. Pen-something else.’
‘Gordy?’ said Humphrey, astonished. ‘But he’s a Less Valued Knight. And not just slightly less. He got caught selling fake Holy Grails. What happened to Dorian?’
‘I don’t know anything about a Dorian,’ said Martha. ‘But Sir Gordon said he was trying to get to the Queen first, because there was a reward.’
‘How big a reward?’ said Humphrey.
‘Knights don’t do things for the reward,’ Conrad reminded him peevishly.
‘Yes, but it never hurts,’ said Humphrey.
‘It’s a huge reward,’ improvised Marcus. ‘And the thing is, Sir Gordon thinks that she’s been kidnapped, but I know she ran away.’
‘How would you know something like that?’ said Conrad. ‘Don’t tell me, the Queen confided it all in her beloved page.’
‘Actually I overheard her talking to her lady-in-waiting. Whose name is Deborah, if you want to check. Martha ran away on her wedding night because she didn’t want to be married to that idiot Edwin. The plan was for Deborah to dress as the Queen for her father’s funeral the next day, with a heavy veil, so that Martha could get a head start before anyone found out she was gone. Anyway, she left so quickly that she abandoned most of her possessions, and that’s when I took my chance, taking the sword and the money and the horse. I assumed everyone would think that Martha had taken them. And it would have been a good plan, except that Leila wants me to take her back to Martha.’
‘And part of her plan was to attack me?’ said Humphrey.
‘His plan,’ Conrad corrected.
‘Well, it’s worked, hasn’t it?’ said Marcus. ‘I’m telling you about the sword now, and about how Martha ran away –’
‘Queen Martha,’ said Humphrey. ‘You keep calling her Martha.’
‘Queen Martha, and now you need to find her and give her the sword back, don’t you? She might be in danger without it. And you’re a Knight of the Round Table – you can’t refuse.’
There was a lengthy silence as Humphrey pondered. At last he said, ‘Well, it’s certainly something that a Knight of the Round Table would do.’
‘And something that a knight who wasn’t of the Round Table would do to get back onto the Round Table,’ muttered Conrad.
‘Isn’t it in your code?’ said Marcus. ‘To give all maidens succour?’
‘You’re not a maiden,’ said Conrad.
‘But the Queen is,’ said Marcus.
Conrad narrowed his eyes at the boy.
‘So where is she, then?’ said Humphrey.
There was a split second of hesitation before Marcus replied, ‘I don’t know.’
‘Kill him and let’s get out of here,’ said Conrad.
‘But the sword knows where she is!’ said Marcus quickly. ‘If you spin the sword, it points towards the Queen, so you know which direction to ride.’
‘Or it just spins and points in a random direction,’ said Conrad.
‘Let’s test it,’ Humphrey said. ‘Conrad, put the sword on a patch of earth and scratch YES and NO into the dirt on either side.’
Conrad picked up Leila, holding her at arm’s length. ‘If it were up to me …’ he said to Marcus, and he drew a line across his neck with his finger. Nevertheless, he prepared the ground, embarrassed by his ungainly writing.
‘Right,’ said Humphrey. ‘Let’s ask this sword some questions. Leila, is it daytime? Conrad, spin the sword.’
Conrad put his hand on the hilt of the sword and gave it a push. Nothing happened. He pushed harder, but the sword refused to budge. He pushed as hard as he could, but still the sword did not turn.
Fury in his voice, he said, ‘It won’t move.’
Humphrey looked at Elaine.
‘Lady Elaine, would you be willing?’ he said.
‘If he can’t do it, I don’t see what I’ll be able to do,’ said Elaine. She didn’t even want to go after this queen, but she wanted Marcus to die even less, so she obligingly tried to spin the sword. Again the sword would not move.
‘Conrad, hold Marcus down,’ said Humphrey. ‘And don’t break him.’
Conrad pinned the boy down with one huge hand while Humphrey went to try his luck with the sword.
‘I could snap your neck like a toothpick,’ Conrad hissed at Marcus.
‘Not if you don’t want to get in trouble with the boss,’ replied Marcus.
Humphrey tried with all his might to spin the sword. Again, she refused to move.
‘Maybe she’ll only spin for me,’ Marcus said.
‘All right,’ said Humphrey. ‘I can see there’s only one way to do this. Conrad, release him. Marcus, you get up and walk – slowly! – to the sword. When I ask the question, spin her gently, with your left hand.’
‘Him,’ muttered Conrad, reluctantly releasing his hold on the boy.
‘And if you try anything funny, I will kill you, whether it’s the magic sword’s fault or not. Understood?’
‘Understood,’ said Marcus.
He went over to Leila and knelt down.
‘Please don’t do anything that will get me killed,’ he begged the sword. The sword did not respond.
‘Leila,’ said Humphrey, ‘is it daytime?’
Marcus put his left hand on the sword’s hilt, feeling the familiar thrill beneath his fingers. He took a breath and spun the sword, which turned easily at his touch, coming to rest pointing at YES.
‘Leila,’ said Humphrey, ‘is my name Humphrey?’
YES again.
‘Leila,’ said Humphrey, ‘is Marcus telling the truth?’
The sword turned for a long time before finally coming to rest pointing at NO.
‘Interesting,’ said Conrad.
‘Well?’ said Humphrey.
‘It’s because Queen Martha’s favourite colour is actually brown,’ said Marcus.
‘Nobody’s favourite colour is brown,’ said Conrad.
‘Why would you lie about something like that?’ said Humphrey.
‘Because nobody ever believes me when I tell the truth!’ said Marcus, looking pointedly at Conrad. ‘Martha likes brown because it goes with her hair, and it reminds her of animal fur.’
‘Martha sounds like a bore,’ said Conrad.
‘There’s no right or wrong reason to like a colour,’ said Elaine.
‘Whose side are you on?’ said Conrad.
Elaine held up her hands.
‘What else are you lying about?’ said Humphrey to Marcus, in an attempt to return to the point.
‘Nothing, I swear!’ said Marcus. ‘Nothing important,’ he added under his breath. Then, louder, he said, ‘I was at the wedding, Martha did run away, and Leila does know where she is.’
‘Leila, do you know where Queen Martha is right now?’ Humphrey asked the sword.
This time it was a swift YES.
‘Which direction?’
The sword came to the end of its spin pointing at Marcus.
‘East,’ said Humphrey.
‘Oh, come on,’ said Conrad.
Elaine took a step forward. ‘I’ve got some questions for the sword.’
‘By all means,’ said Humphrey.
Elaine knelt on the ground beside the sword. ‘Leila, did Marcus have anything to do with the disappearance of my fiancé, Sir Alistair Gilbert?’
Marcus spun the sword. The answer was NO.
‘Leila,’ said Elaine breathlessly, ‘do you know where Sir Alistair is?’
&nb
sp; Marcus spun the sword. Leila spun round and round so many times that they began to think she was never going to slow. But suddenly, abruptly, she stopped, at the exact midpoint between YES and NO. They all stared.
‘I think she means maybe,’ said Marcus eventually. ‘Leila, can you help Lady Elaine find this Sir Alistair?’
He pushed on the hilt. The sword spun round. YES.
‘Marcus can stay,’ said Elaine, standing. ‘The sword too.’
‘Since when is it your decision?’ said Conrad.
‘It will save us lots of time,’ said Elaine. She brushed dirt from her knees. ‘Now when we find the knights in black armour, Humphrey doesn’t have to fight them. We can just ask Leila if they were involved.’
‘So everybody’s calling it Leila now?’ said Conrad.
‘Get back on your elephant and shut up,’ said Humphrey. ‘We’re heading east.’
Twenty-Nine
Sir Humphrey took custody of Leila, and Martha felt the loss as if she had been wrenched away from a friend. She rode at the front with him, Silver’s bridle roped to his horse’s saddle, while Lady Elaine and the irritating little giant followed. She was only allowed to touch Leila when spinning her for directions. This Martha did with the cold blade of Humphrey’s own sword at her throat, so there was no way that she could pick Leila up and attempt to fight her way out of her predicament. She would ask the sword, ‘Leila, which way should we go?’ knowing that asking Leila to direct them to the Queen would not only fail to get them to wherever Jasper was, but would also unmask her very quickly, assuming the others were smart and paying attention. The knight and the maiden seemed sharp enough, she supposed; less so the little giant. He probably used most of his brainpower getting commands to his distant hands and feet. Fortunately nobody seemed to pick up on Martha’s duplicitous choice of words. Leila was sending them in a broadly south-easterly direction, yet again back the way Martha had come, though not with enough predictability to make either herself or Martha surplus to requirements. Why Leila had forced her to do a massive detour, with the sole result of getting her captured by Humphrey, Martha could only speculate. All she could think was that Jasper, himself, was on the move.
Meanwhile she was terrified that her secret identity was going to be revealed. It was one thing pretending to be a man for a few hours in a crowded and noisy tavern. It was something else entirely to pass as male for day after day after day.
The Table of Less Valued Knights Page 12