Rotten Luck! (9 page)

“Aargh!” cried Lurk, as several well-aimed apples bounced off his head. He turned and ran back past us, but then Jack stuck out his staff and tripped him over. The royal guards instantly pounced on him and held him fast.

“To the dungeons with them!” said the king. “I’ll think of a suitable
punishment later. And I suppose I’ll also need a new sheriff.” He sighed. “I should never have believed that letter. I’d give Sir Edward his job back if I knew where he was.”

“Actually, he’s not very far away, sire,” said the Ghost.

“Really?” said the king. “Where is he?”

The Ghost peeled off his mask to reveal a handsome face with piercing blue eyes.

“Here, sire,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. He bowed deeply in his saddle. “Sir Edward Worthington, at your service.”

There were gasps of astonishment.

“Great galloping gargoyles!” exclaimed the king. “Sir Edward. So you’re the Ghost of Grimwood!”

“And the dung merchant,” I piped up. His disguise had been very convincing. And, let’s face it, most people avoided getting too close to a dung merchant if they could help it.

“Indeed,” smiled Sir Edward. “I never fled abroad at all. That was just a story I spread so no one would suspect that I was the Ghost, hiding in the forest with my loyal followers.”

The outlaws stepped forward, and bowed to the king and queen.

“I suspected the sheriff was behind the letter, but I couldn’t prove it,” Sir Edward continued. “The dung merchant’s job was the perfect means of getting in and out of the castle to do a bit of spying. I didn’t find out about the letter, but I overheard the sheriff telling Lurk to collect more and more tax off the peasants but
none at all
from the sheriff’s rich cronies. I thought that wasn’t right, sire. So I decided to – um – make things a bit fairer.”

“By robbing the sheriff’s wealthy friends?” frowned the king. “I see. Well, I don’t really approve of stealing, you know, Sir Edward.”

“Of course not, sire,” said Sir Edward.
“But we didn’t keep anything for ourselves. We gave it back to the peasants to make up for all the extra tax they were paying.”

“Oh well, I
suppose
that’s all right,” said the king. “I shall be happy to say no more about it. If
you
will forgive
me
for believing that letter, Sir Edward.”

“Of course, sire. It was very convincing,” he said. “The sheriff was an excellent forger.”

“And a thief!” said the king. “He was keeping some of my tax money and hiding it in a secret cave in the forest! Your gang came across it today.”

“Actually, it was young Master Cedric who discovered it!” Maud piped up.

“Did he indeed?” beamed the king. “Good lad!”

I blushed. “Well, it was by accident really, Your Majesty,” I said.

“
And
he saved Sir Percy,” added Patchcoat.

“By the way, where is your master?” asked the king.

At that very moment there was a muffled groan from the platform. The mountain of manure appeared to be moving. Then a head popped up out of the stinky heap. It was Sir Percy.

“I say,” he whimpered. “Will someone kindly get me out of here?”

A few hours later Patchcoat and I were in the stable yard preparing to leave. We had just hitched Gristle to the cart while Sir Percy stood nearby checking his armour in a downstairs window. You’d think the first thing you’d say to someone who’d
literally
just saved your neck was “Thanks!”. But not Sir Percy. Once we’d hauled him out of the manure mountain he’d told me to fetch a cloth at once and clean the horse-poo off his armour. Oh well.

I was about to fetch Prancelot from her stall when the ex-outlaws arrived to say goodbye. Jack and Billy were both wearing
smart coats of mail and scarlet tunics bearing Sir Edward’s emblem, an eagle.

“What’s with the fancy outfits?” said Patchcoat. “We almost didn’t recognize you!”

“I used to be head of the castle guard,” said Jack. “Till Earl Crawleigh de Creepes sacked me. Sir Worthington gave me my old job back. He’s my boss now, along with the new deputy sheriff!”

“Deputy sheriff?” I said. “Who’s that?”

“Me!” said Maud. “So this lot had better mind their Ps and Qs!”

The ex-outlaws all laughed.

Billy had his bow over his shoulder. He unslung it and handed it to me.

“This is for you,” he smiled. “I saw you admiring it when we were in the forest.”

“Really?” I gasped. “Are you sure?”

“Oh yes,” he said. “I’ve got tons of bows now Sir Worthington’s put me in charge of all his archers!”

I thanked Billy again. Then the ex-outlaws said goodbye and returned to the castle.

“Wow! My very own bow!” I said after they had gone. “I can’t wait to try it out!”

Sir Percy came over from the window. “Right, chaps, I think we’re ready,” he said. “Cedric, fetch Prancelot and we’ll be on our way.”

“Yes, Sir Percy,” I said. I put my bow on the seat of the mule cart and was about to step into the stables, when who should appear but the king.

“Ah, there you are, Sir Percy!” he boomed. “I was hoping to catch you before you left. All cleaned up now?”

“Yes, sire,” said Sir Percy.

“Good! Otherwise we’d have to start calling you Sir Percy the Poop instead
of Sir Percy the Proud, eh?” the king guffawed.

“Ha ha ha!
Most
amusing, sire!” winced Sir Percy. “Well, I suppose we must be off. Long journey home and all that!”

“Ah, good old Sir Percy,” the king chortled. “You’re such a joker!”

Sir Percy looked a bit bewildered. “Um – I am, sire?” he said.

“Come now, Sir Percy,” the king chuckled. “As if you’d really try to leave without giving me … my
birthday present?
”

Sir Percy went pale. He looked about frantically. And then something caught his eye.

“Ah, there it is, sire!” he declared.
“Phew! I-I wondered where my squire had put it!”

My heart sank as Sir Percy reached over to the seat of the mule cart and picked up … my bow!

“Of course I-I knew Your Majesty must have one already, but … but it’s always useful to have a spare, eh, sire!”

The king was delighted. “Quite so, Sir Percy, quite so!” he exclaimed. “Especially as I managed to snap mine while I was hunting. It’s the perfect present. Now have a good journey home!”

And the king swept back into the castle, clutching the bow.
My
bow.

That’s another one you owe me, Sir Percy!