Feast Fight! (4 page)

I was almost at the Boar’s Bottom when a sinister figure in a long, black hooded cloak crossed in front of me. He looked about, as if to make sure no one was following him, then dived into a nearby alley. I watched, intrigued, as he hunkered down in the shadows. I couldn’t see clearly because the alley was dark and his cloak was in the way, but he appeared to be counting the contents of some sort of bag. Then his cloak briefly flapped open in the breeze.

He was counting big silver plates. And not just any big silver plates. I could just see that they were engraved with a peacock – the badge of Sir Percy’s family. It was the stolen silver!

The cloaked robber stood up and slipped out of the alley.

“Stop, thief!” I cried, and ran after him.

He gave a start of alarm and then he was running, too, pushing aside peasants and weaving in and out of market stalls. Luckily, I was much smaller and quicker than the thief and soon I was right behind him.

I reached out to grab his cloak – but then a large grunting pig suddenly came charging out of the crowd, followed by its large grunting owner.

“Come back ’ere, you stoopid sow!” puffed the pig farmer.

I was right by Simon the Pieman’s stall – and the escaped pig was hurtling straight for me!

“My luvverly pies! They’ll be wrecked!” cried Simon.

“Shoo!” I yelled, desperately waving my sack of curry powder. “Go away! Nice piggy! Shoo! Shoo!”

The pig hurtled closer and closer – and then at the very last second it veered nimbly away with a loud “OINK!”.

“Phew!” I said. “That was close – OOF!”

The pig might have been nimble, but his owner certainly wasn’t. He ran right into me and sent me flying into a big tub of herrings at the fish stall next door.

“Sorry ’bout that!” grunted the farmer, running off after his pig.

“Oi, out of my tub!” barked the
fishmonger. “You’ll spoil all my fish. They was fresh caught only last week!”

Simon the Pieman helped me out of the slimy, slippery mess. “Thanks, young master,” he beamed. “You saved my stall! I think you deserve—”

“The thief!” I suddenly remembered. “Sorry, Mister Pieman! I have to go!”

I sped off towards where I’d last seen the robber. I was sure he’d been heading for the back lane out of the village. But when I got there I could see no sign of him. Where could he have gone? I stood by the new tailor’s shop and looked up and down the lane. But it was no good. The cloaked thief had vanished into thin air.

Chapter Five

A Thief in the Night

Patchcoat was waiting for me at the Boar’s Bottom.

“What happened to you, Ced?” He pulled a herring out of my hood. “Something
fishy
by the look o f it. Not to mention the
smell
. Pooh!”

As we rode home on Gristle I explained what had happened.

“I just don’t understand how the robber got into the castle,” I said.

“Do you reckon it’s an inside job?” said Patchcoat.

“What, someone in the castle itself?” I said, shocked. “But they’d be stealing from their own master! Besides it’s obviously not you, me or Margaret. The thief was at least as tall as Sir Percy.”

As soon as we arrived back, I nipped into the kitchen and hid the curry powder behind a pile of logs while Margaret’s back was turned. Then I went straight to Sir Percy’s chamber. He was standing in front of his looking glass in a dressing gown, trying on his collection of plumed hats.

“Ah, Cedric, there you are,” he said, as I entered. “Where have you been? I need you to help me choose a hat for the banquet.”

I told him about my trip to the village – and how I’d chased the robber through the market.

“Really? The – er – market, you say?” he said, putting on a hat with a bright green plume. “Good for you, Cedric. Didn’t catch him though, did you, eh?”

“No, I didn’t,” I said, surprised. “How do you know?”

“Ah – oh – I just – er –
assumed
,” he said airily. “You’d have told me straight away if you
had
, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” I said. “But shouldn’t you try and catch him
now
? Organize a search party or something?”

“No time, dear boy, no time!” said Sir Percy, trying the hat at various jaunty angles. “I have far too much to do before the king and queen arrive. Perhaps after Their Majesties have left.”

“But what if the thief tries to break into the castle again?” I pleaded. “Won’t you be upset to lose any more silver plates?
They’re very valuable.”

“Ah, yes, alas,” said Sir Percy. “But after all, plates are only – er –
stuff
, dear boy. A noble knight such as myself has very little concern for such shallow worldly things.” He swapped the hat with a bright green plume for another with a fluffy purple one. “Now, which of these goes better with my eyes?”

It was late by the time Sir Percy had decided which hat to wear. I helped him into his nightgown, and then fetched his warm milk and honey from the kitchen.

“Goodnight now, Cedric,” he said. “You run along. I’ll see myself to bed.”

“Are you sure, Sir Percy?” I said. Normally he says he can’t get to sleep unless someone (me) plumps up his pillows and tucks him up for the night.

“Quite sure,” he said cheerily. “You need an early night, Cedric. Big day tomorrow, eh? Speaking of which, I need to make one more trip to the village before the king and queen arrive. Wake me early, will you?”

“Yes, Sir Percy,” I said, stifling a yawn. “Goodnight, Sir Percy.”

I went to my own little room and flopped on the bed, thinking about everything I had to do for the royal visit. I still had to prepare the best guest bedchamber for the king and queen.
And what about Mouldybun Margaret’s horrible banquet menu? With no peacock pie my only hope was to add a bit of that new spice I’d bought. And I’d have to do that while Margaret wasn’t looking…

My mind was buzzing so much I couldn’t sleep. So I decided to nip to the kitchen again and make
myself
a warm milk and honey.

I left my room and slunk down the main stairs towards the kitchen. The castle was dark and silent.

Silent, except for –
what was that
?

The door to the Great Hall was slightly ajar. I stopped and listened. There was definitely a noise coming from inside. I peeped through the door.
Probably just rats
, I thought.
But then I saw something move. A shadow, over by Sir Percy’s chest of silver. It was the thief! I couldn’t let him get away again.

I crept into the Great Hall and slipped as silently as I could past the long banqueting table towards the hunched figure.

Then I tripped on something. I managed to stop myself from crying out and bent down to see what it was. It was Sir Percy’s big leather sack. Why had he left it there? And then I had an idea. A silly, crazy idea – but one that might just work.

Silently I picked up the sack and tiptoed towards the thief. When I was right behind him I held the sack open, raised my arms, and took a deep breath.

Here goes. Ready – NOW!

In one fast move I whisked the sack down over his head and arms.

“MMMPPPHHH!” The thief gave a muffled roar and dropped the silver plates he was holding. He struggled to his feet – and I promptly pulled the sack down to his knees.

“Got you!” I yelled. But the thief shook me off and started running – straight into an old suit of armour.

“MMMOUCH!” he wailed, as the armour collapsed noisily on top of him.

I lunged for the robber, but slipped on the spinning breastplate. To stop myself falling, I reached for the corner of Sir Percy’s new tapestry. It came away from the wall and collapsed on to me, knocking over several more suits of armour.

“Help!” I yelled, but I was drowned out by the deafening din of helmets, breastplates, greaves and gauntlets clattering to the stone floor.

I freed myself from the tapestry and saw the thief blindly bumbling his way through the door and disappearing.

“Stop! Thief!” I cried, but I knew it was no use. He had escaped again!

Then I heard a loud CLONK! and I was surprised to see the thief staggering
back
into the hall. He stopped, groaned, swayed for a moment – and toppled on to the crumpled tapestry.

I gasped in astonishment as Mouldybun Margaret marched into the Great Hall in her nightdress. She was holding a large iron frying pan.

It was still ringing.

“Gottim!” she said, as Patchcoat appeared behind her.

“We heard the commotion and came as quickly as we could,” he said. “Blimey, Margaret, that was a fair old wallop. He’s not
dead
, is he?”

As if in answer, a long muffled moan came from the leather sack.

“No,” said Margaret, “but he’ll wish he was when Sir Percy gets hold of him.”

“Shall I fetch Sir Percy now?” I said.

“Nah, wait till the morning,” said Margaret, tying the drawstring of the sack tight round the thief’s knees. “This scoundrel ain’t going nowhere. But we can’t leave him here. You two grab a leg each
and I’ll take the other end.”

“Where are we taking him?” I asked.

“Best place for him,” said Margaret. “You’ll see. It ain’t far.”

Between the three of us we lifted the robber. We lugged him out of the hall and across the landing, to a flight of stairs I’d never used before.

“Down here,” she said. “I’ll go in front.”

It was tough work manhandling a grown man down a narrow spiral staircase. The walls and steps were slippery and we were soon in total darkness.

“Nearly there,” said Margaret.

“Good,” I panted. The place gave me the creeps. It was chilly and dank, and
dripping noises and strange scuttlings echoed in the darkness.

“
Eek!
” I yelped, as something squeaked and ran across my foot. I put out a hand to steady myself, but it just slid down the slimy wall. I fell forwards – and the next thing I knew we were all tumbling head over heels in the dark.

We came to rest in a big tangled heap.

“Everyone all right?” said Patchcoat.

“I-I think so,” I said. I freed a hand and felt under me. “I seem to have landed on a couple of big cushions.”

“Oi! Those ain’t cushions!” bellowed Margaret right in my ear. “Gerroff me, will yer?”

Eeeewww.

Margaret gave me a hefty shove on to the damp stone floor. I looked around. A barred window let in a tiny patch of moonlight. In the dim light I began to make out strange shapes hanging from the wall.

“So, what is this place?” I said. “Is it one of the storerooms?”