Authors: Kate McMullan

Knight for a Day (5 page)

BOOK: Knight for a Day

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Wiglaf saw Mordred showing a group of boys and their parents around the castle yard.

“Knights of the Round Table often drop in to visit us here at DSA,” he told them. “They never go to Dragon Stabbers’ Prep. Or Knights “R” Us.”

Angus rolled his eyes. “Uncle Mordred is making the most of having Sir Lancelot here!”

“We have fairs like this all the time,” Mordred went on. “My students are happy boys. They love school!” He smiled at the parents. “Now, what do you say we go into my office and sign some papers?”

“Look, there’s Sir Lancelot,” Angus said.

The knight sat at a table at the far end of the yard. He was surrounded by stacks of A
Knight Like I.
Dozens of DSA students were lined up to buy books and have them autographed. A sign above the table read:

Book: 10 pennies
Signed book: 20 pennies

Angus whistled. “Twenty pennies! That is a sky-high price!”

“’Tis indeed,” Erica agreed. “My copy cost only three pennies.”

Wiglaf wished he had ten pennies so that he might buy a book. But he had never seen that much money at one time in his life.

Sir Lancelot glanced up. He beckoned. “Over here!” he called. “I need some help!”

“Let’s go!” exclaimed Erica.

“I think he means me,” Wiglaf said. “The contest winner.”

“That again!” Erica grumbled. “Come on, Angus. It’s Frypot’s turn in the dunking booth. And I feel like dunking someone!”

Wiglaf trotted over to Sir Lancelot. “How can I help you, sir?”

“I shall sign my great name in each book,” the knight said. “Then you shall blow on the ink to dry it.”

And so, for the rest of the fair, Wiglaf huffed and puffed. He grew dizzy and weak from lack of breath. But he didn’t mind. Helping Sir Lancelot was its own reward.

That night, Wiglaf walked into the dining hall with Sir Lancelot. Flames from many torches lit the room. Red-and-white Camelot shields hung on the walls. Wiglaf and the knight made their way to the head table. Boys clapped as they walked by.

So this is fame,
thought Wiglaf. He liked the feel of it.

Angus and Erica stood at their places. When Sir Lancelot took his seat, everyone sat down. Frypot hurried over, carrying Sir Lancelot’s boarburger with cheese and onion rings.

“Here you are, sir!” Frypot said. He set the plate down in front of the knight. “I made a special mushroom sauce for your burger.”

“Why, thank you,” said Sir Lancelot. He reached for his boarburger.

But suddenly Erica drew her sword and whacked Sir Lancelot’s plate across the table. His boarburger hit the floor—splat!

“Knave!” Sir Lancelot leapt up and drew his sword. “You dare to attack my supper?”

“I saved you from the mushrooms, Sir Lancelot!” Erica cried.

“Mushrooms?” Sir Lancelot said. “I am very fond of mushrooms.”

“But sir!” Erica said. “You are horribly allergic to them! On page ninety-seven of A
Knight Like I,
you tell of the time you found a clump of mushrooms in the Dark Forest. Do you not remember, sir? They made you deathly ill!”

Sir Lancelot lowered his sword. “Ah,” he said. “What a careful reader you are, boy.”

Erica beamed. “Thank you, sir.”

Wiglaf sighed. How could he ever hope to impress Sir Lancelot with Erica around?

“But that time in the forest,” Sir Lancelot went on, “I ate a rare wild mushroom. That is the only kind that bothers me.”

“Sit down, Eric!” Mordred boomed. “Frypot! Another boarburger with cheese for Sir Lancelot. Medium rare. And make it snappy!”

Erica slowly sat back down.

“Nice try,” Angus told her.

Wiglaf felt bad for Erica. But she was so greedy for attention. If only she could give it up and accept that he was the contest winner. Then things would go much better for her.

For the rest of the meal, Erica muttered darkly to herself while she pushed her lumpen pudding around on her plate.

Wiglaf lay on his cot in the dorm. He heard laughter and goblets clinking. A minstrel’s songs floated up from the castle yard.

“It sounds like a fine party,” said Angus.

“It does,” Wiglaf agreed. But inside he felt disappointed. For surely the contest winner should have been invited to the party!

Wiglaf glanced over at Erica. She had been sitting on her cot thumbing through A
Knight Like I
for hours. Suddenly she slammed the book shut. She hopped up and ran over to Wiglaf and Angus.

“I have grave news,” she whispered.

“What?” asked Wiglaf and Angus together.

“Lancelot never had a dog named Little Muffy,” Erica declared.

“That is your news?” Wiglaf groaned.

“He never had a dog named Little Puffy, either,” Erica went on. “His only dog was Little Scruffy.”

“What does it matter?” Angus asked. “It was long ago. Perhaps he has forgotten.”

Erica shook her head. “He has a perfect memory. And there is more. An evil knight stabbed Sir Lancelot through his left palm.”

“Clearly the wound has healed,” said Angus. “For we saw him wield a dagger left-handed.”

“That is my point,” Erica said. “It was a terrible wound. Sir Lancelot cannot hold even a spoon in his left hand. And,” she continued, “all mushrooms are poison to Sir Lancelot.”

“What are you saying?” asked Angus.

“I am saying,” said Erica, “that this man who says he is Sir Lancelot is a fraud!”

Chapter 7

“W
hat?” cried Wiglaf. “That is a lie!”

Erica drew herself up tall. “I have devoted my life to studying Sir Lancelot,” she said. “You know nothing about him.”

“I am the contest winner,” Wiglaf pointed out. “You are jealous because my essay won!”

“Dream on!” Erica cried.

“Simmer down,” Angus advised. “You don’t want Frypot coming in to take down our names for talking.”

Wiglaf and Erica glared at each other.

“That man is a fraud,” Erica said at last. “And I have a way to prove it.”

She opened A
Knight Like I.
She showed Wiglaf and Angus a drawing of Sir Lancelot.

Erica pointed to the knight’s left heel. “If this man has a sword-shaped birthmark here, I will believe he is Sir Lancelot,” she said. “But if he does not, it will prove he is a fake.”

“How do we see his left heel?” asked Angus.

“We shall look at it while he is sleeping,” Erica explained.

“What?” cried Wiglaf. “Do you mean—”

“Yes,” said Erica. “We shall sneak into the Rose Chamber tonight, after the party. Sir Lancelot sleeps like a baby. Remember?”

Wiglaf groaned. What if they were caught? If only Erica were not so jealous of him. Was it his fault that he had written a brilliant essay? But if going along was the only way to convince Erica she was wrong, he guessed he’d have to do it. “All right,” he said with a sigh.

The party went on and on. Wiglaf, Erica, and Angus played games to keep themselves awake. They had no cards. And Angus refused to let them roll his fuzzy dice. So they played “Rock, Parchment, Scissors.”

At last the sounds of the party faded. Soon all was still.

“All right,” Erica whispered after it had been quiet for a long time. “Let’s go.”

The three tiptoed out into the dark hallway. Erica lit the minitorch from her tool belt. They made their way to the tower staircase. Wiglaf kept a lookout for Frypot.

They climbed the stairs to the Rose Chamber. Erica lifted the latch and pushed open the door. The three crept inside. Angus shut the door behind them.

By the light of the minitorch, Wiglaf saw Sir Lancelot. He lay face down across the big bed. He still had his armor on. But—thank goodness!—he had kicked off his boots.

The three crept noiselessly toward the bed. Wiglaf couldn’t wait to prove to Erica that this knight was indeed Sir Lancelot of the Lake.

A wheezing noise made Wiglaf freeze. Then he realized it was only Sir Lancelot snoring.

“The
real
Sir Lancelot never snores,” Erica muttered. “Pull off his sock, Wiglaf.”

“You do it,” Wiglaf said. “This was your idea.”

“Shhh!” Angus said. “I’ll do it.”

Angus hooked his fingers under Sir Lancelot’s sock. He slowly peeled it off.

“Oh, P.U.!” Angus said, dropping the sock. “How his foot doth stinketh!”

“That’s more proof!” Erica whispered. “The real Sir Lancelot’s feet smell sweet.”

Wiglaf drew back. In truth, Sir Lancelot’s foot was anything but sweet. He bent to examine the knight’s heel. And he saw...nothing.

Wiglaf stood up. Could Erica be right? Was this man a fake?

“Oops!” said Angus. “Wrong foot.” He began peeling off the other sock.

Wiglaf smiled as the sword-shaped birthmark came into view.

Erica bent down to inspect the mark.

“Now will you stop saying that he is an imposter?” Wiglaf asked.

Sir Lancelot snorted and rolled over.

“Let’s get out of here,” Angus said.

But as they turned to go, Wiglaf heard a high-pitched noise coming from the hallway.

“How odd,” he whispered. “Sounds like a pig squealing.”

Suddenly there came a cracking sound. Then a loud pounding on the door.

“Get up!” called a gruff voice. “We got the gold. We must be off!”

There was that cracking noise again. Now Wiglaf knew the sound: cracking knuckles!

“Quick!” cried Angus. “Into the wardrobe!”

Erica blew out the minitorch. The three dove into the big wooden closet that stood at the foot of Sir Lancelot’s bed.

And just in time, too. No sooner had they pulled the doors shut than they heard heavy footsteps inside the chamber.

Wiglaf peeked through a crack between the doors. He saw the squires. Each one had a big sack slung over his back. Wiglaf gasped. Inside one of the sacks, something was wiggling and squirming—and squealing!

It’s Daisy! thought Wiglaf.
They’ve
got Daisy!

He burst out of the wardrobe.

“Stop! Thieves!” he cried. “Put down my Pig!”

Erica rushed out behind him.

“Stop, in the name of Queen Barb and King Ken!” she called to the squires.

“Right!” said Angus, still cowering inside the wardrobe.

Knuckle drew his sword. “Get back into that closet, runts!” he yelled at them.

Squint tugged at the sleeping knight. He pulled him to his feet.

“Take the gold,” Wiglaf cried. “But, please! Leave me my pig!”

“Not a chance,” said Knuckle. “Into that closet, both of you!”

Knuckle lunged forward. He shoved Wiglaf and Erica back into the closet. He slammed the door. Wiglaf heard the click of the key in the lock. He pushed hard against the doors. They were locked in!

“Let’s go!” said Squire Squint.

“Unhand me, man!” cried Lancelot. “Let me get my boots on!”

“There’s no time!” Squint growled. “Move!”

BOOK: Knight for a Day

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