Pigeon Problems Read online

  Tommy had thought that Edward might be angry to be beaten by a girl, but the squire was gracious in defeat.

  ‘You fight like a champion, Tommy,’ he said. ‘And your sword is beautiful. So light and well balanced. Where did you get it?’

  ‘It’s from the sword chamber.’

  Edward frowned. ‘Really? I don’t recognise it.’ He peered at Jasper then said, ‘Wait. Isn’t that one of the Old Wrecks?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Tommy, waiting for the squire to sneer.

  But Edward said, ‘Well, it’s a beauty.’

  Winning the sword fight was only the start of the day’s delights. Tommy cheered on the smith as he beat the stable master in a test of strength, lifting a barrel of apples with six heavy rounds of cheese stacked on top, and laughed as the competitors in the three-legged race staggered across the field. At the end of the day, Sir Benedict won the jousting competition.

  ‘Did you have a good time today?’ Lil asked, when Tommy finally returned to the sword chamber to replace Jasper Swann in the rack.

  ‘Oh, Lil, it was wonderful!’ Tommy said. She and Jasper described their victory to the others, then Tommy told them about the other games and contests she had seen. ‘It was one of the best days ever,’ she declared. ‘And I’ve got the horse race tomorrow. If I come first in that too, I’ll have a good chance of winning the sword!’

  CHAPTER 8

  THE DAY OF THE HORSE RACE dawned grey and cold, with a heavy mist swirling above the fields.

  Tommy went straight to the stables after breakfast, and found them busy with riders and horses and grooms and stable boys all running this way and that as they prepared for the race. She found Bess waiting eagerly around the small courtyard outside the stables. One of the grooms had woven ribbons through Bess’s mane and her chestnut coat shone from brushing.

  ‘You look beautiful, Bess,’ Tommy began, then cried out in dismay as a stable hand carrying a bucket slipped and splashed water over her tunic. ‘Oh no, I’m all wet!’

  ‘You’ll catch a chill,’ said the horse, her big dark eyes anxious.

  ‘I’ll be right back,’ Tommy said, and ran to the armoury to dry herself.

  The armoury was so quiet that at first Tommy thought it was deserted. Then she saw to her surprise that Sir Walter was pacing back and forth in front of the smith’s forge, his face creased in a frown as he stared at a piece of paper in his hand.

  ‘Ah, Sword Girl,’ he said as she approached. ‘Have you seen the pigeon? I’ve been all over the castle but I can’t find so much as a feather. I was hoping I might find him here warming his wings by the fire.’

  ‘No, sir,’ Tommy said. ‘I haven’t seen him since yesterday.’ Guilt washed over her as she remembered the pigeon’s sad words: It seems I’m not needed at Flamant Castle anymore. She’d meant to look for him after the sword-fighting contest, but in the excitement of winning she’d forgotten. And now he was missing!

  ‘He was very upset,’ she told Sir Walter. ‘He thinks that you no longer need him.’

  ‘But I do need him!’ the nobleman protested. ‘I need him urgently. I have a message to be carried to our friends in the east. How could the pigeon just disappear like this? Why, I’ve had him since he was a chick.’

  Tommy saw that the nobleman was more worried than angry.

  ‘Well, it’s too late now. Without the pigeon, my plan is ruined.’ Sir Walter crumpled the piece of paper and threw it towards the fire, then turned and walked out of the armoury.

  The paper bounced off the bricks and onto the f loor. Tommy picked it up, meaning to throw it into the f lames, then paused. The message sounded very important; without it, plans would be ruined, Sir Walter had said. Tommy smoothed out the paper, refolded it and tucked it in her sleeve. After the horse race she would find the pigeon and let him know the nobleman needed him after all. Maybe he could still deliver the message in time.

  She stood by the forge till her tunic was warm and dry, then ran back to the stables. The other riders were already mounting their horses.

  ‘Are you ready, Bess?’ Tommy asked as she settled herself in the saddle and picked up the reins.

  ‘You bet!’ said the mare.

  The horses and riders filed through the archway leading to the great courtyard, which was lined with people come to watch the race. At Sir Walter’s signal Tommy tapped her heels into Bess’s sides. ‘Let’s go!’

  They cantered through the castle gate and across the drawbridge. Bess’s strides were long and smooth, and by the time they’d crossed the first field they were in the lead. Tommy could feel her heart pumping with the pleasure of galloping hard through the crisp cool air, the horse’s body warm and solid beneath her.

  They reached Skellibones Forest well ahead of the other horses and riders. As the dark tree trunks loomed above them Tommy felt a flicker of fear and wished she was carrying Jasper. Despite knowing that the other riders would soon be entering the forest, it felt like she was on her own, with the only sounds a light breeze whispering in the leaves, the pounding of Bess’s hooves and the cooing of a distant bird. That cooing was the loneliest sound she had ever heard, she thought with a shiver. And yet it was familiar …

  ‘Whoa, Bess!’ Tommy pulled on the reins and brought the chestnut mare to a stop.

  ‘What is it, Tommy?’ Bess asked, her chest heaving from the run.

  ‘That cooing – it’s the pigeon! We have to find him!’

  ‘If we stop now, the others will catch up,’ the mare said. ‘Don’t you want to win the race?’

  Tommy hesitated as the image of the silver sword floated before her. Then she thought of the pigeon feeling sad and unloved. ‘We have to find him,’ she repeated.

  Urging Bess on at a walk, she followed the cooing. It led her off the main path and between the trees. When the bird’s call was directly overhead, she looked up to see a bundle of grey feathers slumped on a branch.

  ‘Pigeon,’ Tommy called.

  The bird looked down. ‘Hello, Sword Girl. It’s kind of you to come visit me in my new home.’

  ‘Pigeon, you can’t stay here,’ Tommy said. ‘Sir Walter has been looking for you everywhere.’

  ‘Sir Walter needs me?’ The pigeon stood up straighter on the branch. ‘Are you sure? What were his exact words?’

  ‘He said he needed a message carried to friends in the east, and that without you his plan was ruined.’

  ‘Ruined?’ the pigeon said in horror. ‘Oh no! How could I have failed Sir Walter? I’ve been a silly, silly pigeon.’

  ‘It might not be too late,’ Tommy said. ‘He threw the message away but I picked it up. I have it here.’ She reached into her sleeve for the piece of paper. ‘Maybe you could still carry it?’

  The pigeon swooped down. ‘To our friends in the east, you say? I’ll fly faster than the wind,’ he vowed. ‘Can you tie the message to my foot?’

  ‘Bess, may I use one of your ribbons?’ At the horse’s nod, Tommy drew a ribbon from the mare’s mane and tied the folded paper to the pigeon’s foot.

  As the bird soared into the air, Tommy heard the beat of horses’ hooves approaching. ‘Come on, Bess! Maybe we can still win!’

  They made their way back through the trees to the main path and joined the stream of riders galloping past. Tommy leaned low over the horse’s neck as they picked up speed. They passed Reynard, puffing heavily on a grey pony, then a pair of squires on stocky brown stallions. As they circled through the forest Tommy and Bess passed more and more horses, and by the time they’d left the cover of the trees and Flamant Castle was in sight, only a handful of riders were between them and the finish line.

  Tommy felt a surge of power ripple through the horse’s muscles as Bess put all her energy into the final gallop. Across the fields they flew, leaping fences and hedges without breaking stride. Crossing the drawbridge they passed a dark-haired boy on a sleek black stallion. The finish line was in sight.

  ‘Almost there, Bess,’ Tommy cried.
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  They cantered into the great courtyard to a chorus of cheers.

  ‘Third place! Hooray for Sword Girl!’

  Breathing heavily, Bess slowed to a trot and then a walk. Up ahead, Tommy saw the boy who had come in second sliding off his horse. Just in front of him was Edward, still astride a dappled mare, with his hands in the air. So he was the winner. Tommy was glad for him.

  ‘That was a great ride, Tommy,’ said Sir Benedict as he helped her from the horse. ‘Well done, Bess,’ he added.

  ‘Thanks, Sir Benedict,’ Tommy said.

  ‘I was watching from the battlements and it looked like you entered the forest well ahead of the others,’ the knight went on. ‘I thought you might come first.’

  Tommy patted Bess’s heaving side. ‘We had a good chance,’ she said, ‘but then I stopped to help a friend.’ She thought of the pigeon, flying east with Sir Walter’s message. She just hoped it wasn’t too late.

  CHAPTER 9

  ON THE FINAL DAY OF Lady Beatrix’s birthday games, Tommy competed in the archery contest. Although she tried her best, she came in seventh.

  ‘That’s a very good result considering that one week ago you’d never used a bow and arrow,’ Lil told Tommy when she returned to the sword chamber.

  Tommy picked up a rag and a pot of clove-scented oil and quickly began to polish Sir Benedict’s sword. The knight was about to take part in a sword-fighting contest.

  ‘You should be very proud of yourself, dearie,’ Nursie chimed in. ‘We certainly are.’

  ‘Indeed, Nursie speaks the truth,’ Bevan Brumm agreed. ‘Third in the horse race – and you won the sword fight!’

  ‘I couldn’t have won without Jasper,’ Tommy pointed out. She gave Sir Benedict’s sword one last wipe then rushed back to Jonglers Field.

  The knights’ contest was very exciting to watch, and Tommy cheered herself hoarse as they battled for the prize. Finally, only Sir Benedict and Sir Hugh were left.

  ‘Hooray!’ Tommy yelled as, with a powerful thrust, Sir Benedict knocked the sword from Sir Hugh’s hand.

  There were yet more cheers when Lady Beatrix the Bored presented Sir Benedict with the silver sword: he had beaten the other knights in every contest.

  Flamant Castle’s bravest knight came to stand beside Tommy as the winner of the squires’ competition was announced.

  ‘Congratulations, Edward!’ Lady Beatrix said, and Tommy clapped hard and long as the squire was presented with his prize.

  ‘Not too disappointed that you didn’t get a silver sword of your own, Tommy?’ Sir Benedict asked, holding out his own prize for Tommy to inspect.

  ‘No, sir,’ Tommy said as she ran her fingers over the engraved blade. ‘I don’t need another sword. I’ve got Jasper.’ And as she said the words she realised it was true: she would rather have Jasper than any other sword in the world.

  She would go and sharpen and polish him now, she decided, to thank him for competing with her. But as she turned to leave Sir Benedict stopped her.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he asked. ‘There’s one race still to be run – or to be jumped, I should say. It’s time for the sack race!’

  Tommy joined the crowd of people pushing and jostling towards a huge pile of sacks. Copying the others, she put one foot then the other into a sack and stepped forward – only to fall over.

  Hearing a whoop of laughter, she looked up and saw Edward, who was just getting into a sack himself. ‘Don’t try to walk, Tommy,’ he advised. ‘You have to jump.’ Still laughing, he jumped over to the start line.

  Cautiously at first, then more confidently, she jumped after him.

  When Sir Walter yelled, ‘Go!’, Tommy was ready. Holding her sack tightly with both hands, she began to jump.

  Almost immediately she was overtaken by Mrs Moon, who was still clutching the silver spoon she had won earlier in the egg-and-spoon race. Right behind the cook was the smith, hopping as fast as a rabbit.

  ‘Why so slow, Sword Girl?’ Smith called as he passed.

  Tommy felt the laughter bubbling up inside her. Everyone looked so funny jumping about in sacks!

  ‘Look out, Sword Girl, here I come!’

  It was Lady Beatrix the Bored, though she looked anything but bored. Her face was aglow as she bounded past in a series of giant leaps.

  By now Tommy was laughing so hard she could barely stand. The sack race was the most fun she’d ever had in her life!

  ‘Lady Beatrix is the winner!’ Sir Walter boomed as his wife crossed the finish line.

  Beaming, Lady Beatrix stepped out of her sack and turned to her husband. ‘This is the least boring birthday I’ve ever had,’ she said.

  Sir Walter beamed back at her. ‘It’s not over yet, my dear.’ He signalled to one of the pages, who came forward carrying a cage. ‘I have a present for you.’

  Lady Beatrix peered into the cage. ‘Why, it’s a little falcon chick!’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Oh, Walter, he’s so cute. I’m going to have such fun training him.’

  So that’s why Sir Walter had been keeping a falcon. It was a birthday gift for Lady Beatrix! Tommy looked around, hoping to catch sight of a flurry of grey feathers. If only the pigeon knew, she thought. But it had been a day and a half since the pigeon had flown east from the forest, and there had been no sign of him. What could have happened to him?

  Her fretting was interrupted by the thunder of hooves. ‘Riders approaching,’ cried the sentry. ‘Looks like a hundred or more!’

  ‘Everyone to the castle!’ a voice shouted. ‘We’re under attack!’

  CHAPTER 10

  TOMMY CLIMBED OUT of her sack, ready to run. She could hear sounds of alarm as the mood of the crowd changed from celebration to panic.

  As the first riders appeared on the horizon, Tommy saw they were waving red and white banners.

  ‘The riders are from Roses!’ the sentry called.

  Phew! Sir Percy the Pink and the knights of Roses Castle were good friends of Flamant. But what were they doing here? Tommy wondered.

  She realised that they were calling something. What was it? She strained to hear their cries, then smiled.

  ‘Surprise!’ they were shouting. ‘Surprise! Happy birthday, Lady Beatrix!’

  Lady Beatrix turned to her husband. ‘Walter? What is this?’

  ‘It’s the guests for your party, my dear.’ He raised his voice. ‘Tonight we are having a birthday party in the great hall, and you’re all invited!’

  Everyone roared their approval.

  ‘But, Walter, how did Sir Percy know?’ Lady Beatrix demanded.

  Sir Walter winked and held out his arm. Tommy watched in delight as, a few seconds later, the pigeon swooped down and landed on his wrist.

  ‘Oh, Pigeon,’ said the nobleman. ‘I should have known you would never let me down.’

  The pigeon let out a happy coo before fluttering into the air. Tommy watched as he circled the crowd once … twice … then she gasped as he suddenly dived down to where she was standing. As his wing brushed her cheek she heard the bird murmur, ‘Thank you, Sword Girl.’ And then he was gone, soaring and circling again, before finally coming to rest once more on Sir Walter’s wrist.

  Tommy felt a hand on her shoulder. ‘So,’ said Sir Benedict, ‘you lost the horse race because you stopped to help a friend in the forest. Is that right, Tommy?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I wonder if you’d mind helping another friend …’ Sir Benedict was holding out the silver sword he had won in the contest. ‘I’d like you to put this in the small rack in the sword chamber, and take extra-special care of it for me.’

  Tommy glowed with pride as she took the magnificent sword in both hands. ‘I will, sir,’ she promised.

  CHAPTER 1

  CLIP-CLOP, CLIP-CLOP, CLIP-CLOP.

  Tommy woke to the sound of a horse’s hooves on the flagstones of Flamant Castle’s great courtyard.

  She sprang out of bed, worried that she must have slept in, but there w
as no light coming through the small window set high in the thick stone wall. Puzzled, Tommy climbed back into bed.

  Who could be arriving in the dead of the night? It must be a messenger, she thought. And the message must be urgent for him to arrive at this hour. The castle’s sentries would never have lowered the drawbridge otherwise.

  She listened for signs of activity in the courtyard below. A groom would be fetched to lead the messenger’s horse to the stables, and a page would be sent for to take the messenger to Sir Benedict, the castle’s bravest knight. If the news was very serious, maybe even Sir Walter the Bald, the nobleman who owned the castle, would be woken.

  All was quiet, however, except for a soft, ‘Woah there,’ followed by the clip-clop of hooves heading in the direction of the stables.

  Tommy lay awake, wondering about what she had just heard. Where had the messenger come from? And why had no one come to greet him? The questions chased round and round in her mind until at last she fell into an uneasy sleep.

  The next thing she knew, sun was streaming in through the little window. Down below she could hear carts clattering across the flagstones of the courtyard as the local merchants made their deliveries to the kitchen.

  Oh no! She’d slept in!

  Tommy leaped out of bed and pulled on her tunic and leggings. She didn’t want to be late for her work in the armoury. Since becoming Flamant Castle’s Keeper of the Blades, Tommy looked after all the bladed weapons. It was a very important job, as the knights who defended the castle relied on her to keep their swords sharpened and polished. If she did her job well, Tommy hoped that she might become a squire and train to be a knight herself.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Moon,’ Tommy said as she entered the kitchen. Even though she wasn’t a kitchen girl anymore, she still took her meals at the long table where she used to peel potatoes, dreaming that one day she would be holding a sword instead of a paring knife.